Last Chance

"Any last words, before we execute you?" asked His Highest Omnipotent Inquisitor Sir The Constable Sledgeling DeVito IIV. Popularly, he was known as His Highest Slime "Sludge Depravito".

"I've got nothing," said the turncoat in the snazzy coat.

"Really? Someone, somewhere else, far off, maybe? No? Someone who cares about you and doesn't realize what a down-spiraling cock you are. That's what you've got, I wager," Depravito begged. He enjoyed his job torturing infidels to death too much, you see.

"Well, I've got myself. I care deeply about my own well being," said the turncoat.

Someone, somewhere else, far off; someone who cared about the turncoat was waiting for a word to be spoken.

"This is absurd. It's time to die, habibi," sneered Depravito.

"Wait, I do have last words, after all--" the turncoat's voice sputtered to a halt when the axe came between his head and his body. His head rolled onto the sapphire sand, and the woman in the barrel with a crossbow, waiting for the turncoat to say "I love you", got shipped away to a sugar plantation somewhere in Trinidad.