I made the vine crawl up his chest. “In a few hours, I’ll plant you in my backyard and watch you grow into a majestic, albeit ugly, tree—a new species which I will name the Giant Bradwood. Your consciousness will live there, entombed in bark and leaves, until I chop you down for lumber. And even then, fragments of your tortured soul may endure, raging silently in immortal agony, while I—”
Dying laughing
