Lovely Lumpy Linda Lonely sat in the corner, the Ring of Tuth the Whacko gleaming evilly on her finger. Her soul succumbed to the ring's evil with no fight. Eric paced the other side of the room, trying to find a bright side.
"Vell, dear its vonderful you have such ambition now. Still, I zink sacrificing a million mortals is a bit..."
"Shut up, you twit." Her voice was deep and menacing. Eric was accustomed to fear, but not of his fiancé. "And stop pacing. With that stride of yours you look ridiculous."
"Sorry dear..."
"Shut up."
She continued to stare into the ring and become more and more enveloped in its beauty. "Humanity doesn't need to survive for the universe to go on. We can leave our remains as a monument to our achievements for those who visit us later!"
"Ve could achieve more."
"Shut up!! We could achieve complete annihilation - what would that leave?"
"Nothing I guess."
"You're a simp Eric."
Eric tried again to lift his pants, but they were still too heavy. Linda looked into the Ring. "I want to drink from the skulls of America."
"I'm zhure you could find zomezing with more in it..."
She looked at him.
"I know. `Shut up.'"
All the while the Ring of Tuth the Whacko whispered into Linda's mind its plans and desires.
It had such sights to show her.
The Phoenix flew by the window, shrieking, "What am I doing here?!?"
Linda glared at Eric. The ring whispered. She stared into his eyes. His stare held the never dying love that was starting to falter and develop a cancer. Removing part of the heating radiator from the wall with one arm, she held it above her head.
"Vat are you do-ink sveetheart?"
"You're a fucking loser Eric. I can't allow you to exist among the elite."
The radiator came crashing down onto Eric's helpless frame, crushing him to death, and putting a few stains on the freshly sanded floors. It crashed again, and again, and then Linda pounced on the body, rending and stretching it into a more pleasing form.
She smiled. It was perfect. The legs were seven feet long, and the body hung between them. The face sat in the bottom of the torso, the arms protruding from behind the ears. Its enlarged genitals hung below the chin.
She punched its forehead with the Ring. With a spasm, life flooded back into the cadaver. It grinned back at her.
"How may I serve, mistress?"
"Any way I desire. What is your name?"
"Balldrip the Assassin."
