The Battle of the Bedroom

Spammy slaps his alarm clock. It says "Ow! I'm just trying to help you!"
"Yeah, well, if you really wanna help..." Spammy rubs his eyes and looks at the alarm clock. He eyes bulge. "Then don't wake me up at two forty-one in the afternoon!" He grabs the alarm clock and shakes it. "What's wrong with you? Can't you tell time?"
"Umm, well," The clock squirms in Spammy's grip. "I might have been reset, umm...while I was asleep?"
"Traitor!" Spammy throws the clock across the room."Treasonous bass-turd!"
"Resorting t' euphemisms, are we, brother spammy?" A sulfurous voice says from behind Spammy.
Spammy whirls. "You. It was you! Ghhhhhhaaaaagahhhhhhhrrrr!" Spammy leaps on top of the seven-foot-six-inch tall demon.
The anti-punctuality demon roars and throws Spammy across the room , hurling a five-foot flaming cheese curl after him.
Spammy rolls aside as the cheese curl starts the wall paper and carpet on fire. Spammy grabs a vuvuzela and charges the demon, swinging the horrendous instrument at the demon's head.
As the vuvuzela connects with the demon's head it snaps into three pieces. "Arrrgh! Dame safety precautions!" Spammy drops the now-useless piece of plastic. The demon advances on Spammy, the light from the spreading fire glinting in his dark eyes.
Spammy leaps over his bed and runs to the bookshelf, hurling flaming book after flaming book at the demon. The demon knocks them aside and jumps over the bed.
"Take the sword of the spirit, hell spawn!" Spammy takes a huge, flaming bible from the bookshelf and chucks it at the demon.The demon catches it between the eyes and staggers backward, tripping over the bed.
"Hah!" Spammy says, grabbing an umbrella and chucking it at the defenseless demon, just for good measure. He leaps over the demon's motionless body and runs out of the fiery bedroom, laughing maniacally.

The Epitome of Insult

I recently bred a special breed of fish that could be trained to make a very loud, annoying noise at the same time every day (I did this by breeding an electric eel with a vuvuzela) to replace my alarm clock which was deep fried in batter by the horrendous monstrosity, the Anti-Punctuality demon, who has been plaguing me with lateness of late. The biggest advantages to this eel are its distinct unfryability and its inability to be reset to some erroneous time or stopped from ringing. 

But this eel, it was...it was more than an alarm clock to me. To me it was...it was a friend. It didn't just wake me up every morning, it sang to me every morning, in the single monotonous note that was its voice. He had...a name (it was नागेन्द्र) and to me, he was more than an eel with a name in Hindi, he was an eel, with a name in Hindi. The italics make a big difference, you see. He and I listened to "House of the Rising Sun" together...so many times...
And what did that god-forsaken demon do to my eel, and the friendship that had grown between us? He ate it, the gluttonous barstud!
Now, I'm terribly sorry for the euphemism (me using euphemisms means I'm really going insane) but I am in the deepest shadow of the tallest mountain of despair I have ever attempted to climb, the broadest ocean full of sharks with fangs of depression I have ever attempted to swim. That goose-down demon (Gasp! another euphemism!) has stolen from me the one thing I ever wanted, the friendship of a half eel, half vuvuzela with a  name in Hindi. Oh Time, can you not strike down this affliction which causes so many to waste thee?


(By the way, I am going on vacation, so I may or may not be able to post while I'm gone. Depends on whether or not I have access to the internet.)