Diary of a Demon Dog #30 (Patreon)

I’m not perfect. Nobody is. That doesn’t stop me from trying. I want to be like the gods and angels I heard of in those lovely scented chapels and underfunded classrooms. I want to be a seraphim spinning on a pole for God’s enjoyment as Jesus spins the tables on a sick DJ set. Don’t take all of this as me being some mega christian. I honestly don’t see how you could but I digress. I’m simply a product of my environment. I heard about all the perverted priests that supposedly filled the practice. I wondered where they were. I wonder if I scared them off. I make this really sick and twisted face when I am really happy. It scares my mom shitless. It makes my dad laugh his ass off. Any other person would be confronted with either trying to wrangle me into a mental institute or seeing if they are a good enough shot to take me out quickly because you won’t get a second one out without some scars. What were we talking about again? Oh! Right… perfection. That dime a dozen whore that lies to you and says she loves you as long as the money keeps flowing. She doesn’t care about you bro. Cut it off before it gets into your lymph nodes. Marla has been helping me a lot more recently. I have been letting her take the wheel whenever I don’t know what to do next. She always knows her next move. It’s uncanny how quickly that bunny thinks. If you ever think you’ve got the drop on Marla, wait five seconds then tell me how it went. She’s as close to perfect as anyone can be, to me at least. I’d kill every single person on this train just to see her face again. But in reality I think that would work against my interests so for now, the demons remain contained until Marla says “OK”.