She could skin them and sell demon-baby boots and purses.

"OR," says Bob, you could skin them and sell the skins as high quality wholesale leather for boots, hats, and other assorted products.

"Yes! What a wonderful idea!" chimes another.

"You could call the line.... Brimstone and sons!"

"Well, I don't know... killing my own demon children seems kind of wrong."

Now the entire group starts clucking like chickens, and their target turns redder and redder untill she pops.

Literaly.

Two little clumps of red remain, one on her seat and one on the floor. The group stops clucking.

The End

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