Climax

They fell in love.

As with all good fiction
they fell in love at first sight.

It was the purest love with all the
vengeance and spite hell could muster.

A love of hate and wrath and evil deeds;
but boundless, indescribable love nonetheless.

Each time they saw one another
their love blossomed like foxglove
at the edge of a ditch where deer won’t feed.

And, with each passing moment,
their passion grew into

visceral rage

so unfathomably large it knocked Satan’s
worst cherubim to earth.

It grew and grew.

It blossomed!
It seeded the earth with millions of
hate filled thoughts and wicked wishes
for the other at every turn of the
tickling hands of fate.

Until one day they had to speak
a thought or two about some
innocuous topic of mutual vehemence,
leading to that one thing he swore he could

never do with her of all people on earth!

They kissed!

They made up!

They made up together in one grand, passionate scene
described in such a lascivious manner that any
good Christian might soon wander into the nearest pub

in search of a devil!

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