Davey Assicle

When I was but a small child I was dragged, until my buttocks bled through my torn hand-me-down jeans, to the lair of a man mascarading as the Easter bunny. "Why the mascarade?", one might ask. Because this was not the Easter bunny in flesh - oh no. I was thrown into a single beam of light that had descended unto my confused face. He extended a single long claw, attached to it hundreds of tiny spoons glowing red with the heat accumulated from his endless masturbatory wake. I commented unwittingly, "Why, that doesn't look like something I would want against my body." He beat me with the scent of mother.