This is all your fault, by the way.
Okay, I admit it. I can be a little wild sometimes. I have occasionally drank alcohol in excess and thrown up at other peoples' parties...BUT I have never, to the best of my knowledge, unleashed a Satanic demon at a house party.
Now I know you didn't break the ironing board. You weren't there for the diving competition, because you were upstairs messing up my internet history. But you put it there.
Rule No.1 at every party ever...
Wait, that's not right.
Rule No. 8 at every party ever, don't mess with other people's ironing boards.
The truth is, I'd never even seen the ironing board either. It was locked in a vault several millenia ago by the Illuminati, we found out later. It was like the Holy Grail for Satanists, but nobody ever thought to look behind the bookcase in my living room.
So yeah, I adapted pretty quickly to the whole "All of my friends are being consumed by Satan" situation. I'm kind of annoyed because I have that Gorillaz song stuck in my head because Satan nudged the iPod player when he was devouring Cathy's intestines and now it's on loop. Is 'Sunshine in a bag' a euphemism for cocaine? The debate over the morals of the growing glorification of sex, drugs and sausage rolls in popular media continues.
But that's beside the point, because right now I'm about to be consumed by Satan. An interesting end to my life. I always assumed I'd die holding the hand of an elderly Robert Pattinson. But not Robert Pattinson because he's meh, but that kind of thing - you know?
One thing's for sure, if I somehow survive this - I will kill you.
Never touch my fucking ironing board again.