Satan went shopping, online , with little knowledge of the state of affairs in the frozen fridge department. Satan went shopping, online, ticking most of the square boxes from previous perilous purchases, keeping the new snake suggestions an option for a later date. Satan went shopping, online, expecting a swift delivery but had to consent to dreary days of waiting, days without liquid fires bottled. Satan went shopping, online, and waited in anguish for the delivery man to arrive, to quench the thirst for every birth unexpected. Satan went shopping, online, only to find the delivery man delivering too much for the frozen fridge to swallow, too much for the fucking square peg to fit in the round hole, too much for the writer in anguish to cope with. Satan went shopping, online, while the writer sought peace among the vegetables not fitting, sought a piece of broccoli withering, then died.
