“Looks like this turned into a party after all,” Cyrus says as he pulls out his zippo. The guy screams as Cyrus holds a flickering flame against his face, and his flesh burns. “Azadeh, what do you think about me starting a perfume business? There has to be a market for Eau de Burned Flesh.” He bends and sniffs the man’s cheeks. “Even this piece of shit now smells divine.”
