The diaries of a long time Satanist

Dear Dingo

By Pineapple Pig
Chapter 3: Dear Dingo
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This is a place of no judgement.
This is a place of trust.
A place of kindness.
Love.
And peace.
Also dark souls, but that's not necessarily important right now.
So today my diary.
I ask not of you to judge.
Hate.
Or even begin your new life as a mass murderer.
I ask of trust
Peace.
Forgiveness.
Love.
Also to buy me the latest dark souls game- they were all sold out -but that is irrelevant.
I ask you all to open your heart as I have.
To my toy stuffed Dingo.
His name is Dodgy.
Every morning as I make my bed- no none of my 666 Devils do it, this is personal- I even out my sheet, place my pillow down then my glittery second pillow in front of that and then Dodgy the Dingo on top of it all.
As if she were a Queen.
Or maybe a princess, who sits with her ankles crossed, and's country is know for its pears.
I'm just saying.
Dodgy is 6years old.
Has been for 250 years.
I can remember when I was a newly appointed devil over-lord, she was there, by my side.
And now every night.
I take Dodgy off her throne, tuck her under my arm, fling glitter, disco, pillow across the  room, plop regular, non-disco pillow at the end of my bed, pull down my sheet, put regular pillow at the top so I have something to place my head atop and snuggle down into bed with my only love. Dodgy.
Dodgy and I are very close.
Playing pranks on one another.
Having tea, with one another.
Building pillow forts, with one another.
Starting a war, with one another.
Loving one another.
And occasionally inventing plagues and such. Alway together.
Because we are two halves of a whole.
And when you sing Beyoncé with one another, you just know that the other is. Special.
Oh I'm gonna cry.
No, no. I got this, I can do this.
Just do it!
I need you guys to understand that I'm not all death, decay, misery, torture.
But that times two.
Because everything happens with that sexy-son-of-a-gun.
We sleep together.
We eat together.
We poop together.
Well sometimes we poop at the same time, sometimes one of us will be pooping and the other will be in the same room, it can vary.
Now don't judge me.
I'm not the only one.
I hope.
Ok I'm pretty sure I am the only one, but hey, I'm an individual.
One-of-a-kind.
Unique.
Like the mysterious whale.
And his companion the octopus.
Satan has 5 letter three-of-which are not vowels, a triangle has 3 sides, the illuminati is a triangle, satan is illuminati confirmed.
Wait, what was I trying to prove again.
Wait, illuminati confirmed, shit you guys weren't supposed to find out about that 'till we got drunk on New Years together.
Holy crap.
I mean, sweet Jesus.
Barbecue Jesus.
Peri peri chicken Jesus.
Ground up cats Jesus.
I'm actually allergic to cats so go away ground-up-cats-Jesus. That's just nasty.
Good god, what do they feed them up in the REALMS OF GOD.
Cats clearly.
Well now that we are sufficiently weirded out, toodle, pip, pip, cherrio.
Love from
Your Satanic friend.
XOXO
P.S. Do you guys wanna hear a joke:
"My coffee tastes like dirt."
"What do you expect, it was ground just this morning."

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Yup, Men in Black references. I've reached a new low. Whatever, whatevs, hoped you liked, please remember to vote and as always:-drum roll please-.
Would You Rather- be president or an astronaut?
It's up to you.
Peace Bruh.
And just so I don't have to say this later. Any books or movies or TV shows or videos/photos or- you know what, you guys get the gist- I reference, I don't own.