may i frice you a question

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"WHO WANTS TO SPAMMED WITH ART?!"

An onslaught of children's screams echoed around the room.

"NO!"

"MOMMY HELP!"

"SPARE ME!"

"MEEERRRRCCCCIIIIII!!"

"Same."

The voice that asked the apparently terrifying question laughed. "Me too, kids!" (They collected a few of the children's tears in a bottle for the daily Frice cult meetings. Frice the Dicer nodded in approval.)

"So here we are!"

 The merciless person stated "That one in the corner is my favorite- here, let me zoom in

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The merciless person stated "That one in the corner is my favorite- here, let me zoom in."

"Also, this one is pretty good too

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"Also, this one is pretty good too."

"Next page!"

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"Next page!"

A few tears shed later, the metaphorical demon (how does that work? They didn't know either.) finally got a good picture.

And more tears of the damned, of course.

But that'll be in the next chapter, for the demonic... thing (was it even a human?) had to eat dinner first.

Not that they were complaining. The muffled screams of the children were really getting on their nerves.

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