The ‘F’ provides the perfect beginning
Like bellows for the fireplace
The lip is pushed into the teeth
Pushing out the hot, suspenseful, stinky breath of profanity
Like a light fuse of dynamite
Eyes watch in horror as the spark slides closer to the inevitable
Eyes watch in horror as the mouth forms the first sounds
“He’s not going to say it!”
The ‘U’ is hesitant.
Suddenly, he remembers hours of childhood punishment
Stool in corner
Soap in mouth
Triggering a million pervasive, frantic thoughts
In his perverse little mind
“Do I dare utter the unholiest of unholies?”
"Do I dare make this pact with satan?"
Finally, with a deafening choke; like a clap of thunder
It has been done. The deed has been done.
The dynamite explodes, leaving behind only ringing ears, dropped jaws, and rubble
Never has a word, so evil, yet so satisfying, been spoken