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Squeaks of TerrorI stare with deep hatred at my targets. For as long as I can remember, we've always had a love-hate relationship. Many of them have deep, horrific wounds. One or two even have their innards spilling out in front of me. The feeling I get at seeing this is beyond satisfying.
There is a moose whose legs are hanging by little threads, and he and his twin both have chunks missing from their horns. One of the victims I had missed and merely wounded his horrible red Santa hat.
I pounce at my victims, some of them scatter as I land (the thrill of the chase is indescribably amazing). I manage to get one of them around the gut, and clamp down with my powerful jaws. I feel my teeth sinking into its flesh, and I know this one has no chance. I feel a rush, a thrill, as I hear its squeaks of terror, as though it is begging me to release it.
My jaws move in a chewing motion, getting more squeaks from my victim. Suddenly, someone grabs my victim from me and throws him across the room. I run after him,
In Your ArmsI see your face and
I'm changing here,
Inside my heart.
There's so many things
That I can't explain,
'Cuz I don't know where
I should start!
Every moment that passes by,
I see the light gleaming
In your eyes
And I know where I belong
Is right here in your arms!
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