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You smack your backside in a taunting manner as you wrap up your final act. “You’re nothin’ more than a petulant sad sack o’ hog meat charading as a pantheon for pigs!”
“<span class="mu-r">grrgGHAHRRN HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA YOU-</span>” The flames rise with fervor! But… they die out as soon as you got further away, going back to their usual calm in comparison burning state.
<span class="mu-r">Kaaahuhuhuh!</span> If that bastard would have not been a non-physical thing oooh, you <span class="mu-r">would have gotten a kick</span>out of how mad he was! But, you know better. Especially after what happened to aunt May… Or was it aunt Petunia?
No.. you’re pretty sure it was Mayflower who burnt her home and part of the village that one time, you remember attending the funeral and everything. You don’t mind experimenting with danger but fire is in a whole other section of its own for someone like you that is so susceptible to it, your losses are testament to it. Oh well that’s the past though! You’ve got some moving to do.
Sadly not being able to stomach it at the moment and not wanting to carry it with you at the moment, you leave your roasted arm in the table nearby, it’ll get cold but you can always reheat it over at your friend Peogh’s place, eh? Keheh.
