Dobby relished his groinsaw’s roar as he withdrew the flesh-choked blade from the astronaut’s ruined skull. He then turned to Harry, thrusting his bloody, retina-covered pelvis with elfin fervor.
“How does Ronnie Ron taste, master?”
Harry spat out an eyeball. “Like some kid with eyes”
Dobby ducked an astronaut’s poisoned barbed fist, digging his groinsaw into the beat’s abdomen and letting the spray of viscera wash over his elfin space armor. The skull’s eye sockets on his shoulders grew brilliant with an infernal cast and vomited a bolt of light through an astronaut; he was thrown back against the deathwall, his flesh boiling in another dimension.
Harry slapped Dobby, who giggled.
Harry reminded himself to kill himself later.
“Master, look out!”
Dobby’s groinsaw screamed as it flew off the armor, rocketing through the air like an early dream of mankind. It flew through three astronauts who dropped their hellspears as the saw cut a hole in the ground beneath them so they fell to hell and the demonic spheres rape them to this day, boys and girls.