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With a roar of courage, Baltoh swung the lariat of Hell chains and rosary bonds with Amon at the end like the head of a battle flail, bringing it down onto the Titan with enough strength to shake all of New York wildly and temporarily incapacitate the creature from the shear pain of the impact. Snapping the cords with his tail, Baltoh clapped his hands together to name the next spell. “Demon Art: Mausoleum Prison!” he cast, harnessing the power of the nearby Hope Beacons to increase the size of the spell.Covered in symbols of Hellscript and adorned with carvings of human skulls, a mausoleum of such size that it could be seen from space rose up around the Titan and the Master of Torture, locking them away like money in a bank vault.“Demon Art: Debt Retrieval!” Baltoh then called with his smile growing.At his command, almost a hundred massive skeletal hands burst up from the ground and grabbed onto the mausoleum. With one great heave, they all combined their strength and threw the. As I attempted to blot the spill I whispered " I mean it I will do anything to make this better, please it won't ever happen again." Mr. D just laughed while he looked around the cafe, " Anything you say? Than you better come to my office and help me finish cleaning up this mess." Pushing me back he got up and put a closed sign on the door and drew the blinds. I slipped off my shoes to be better able to follow him to the back. I was definitely willing to do anything save my job. Following him I never realized what a big man he was at least 6 foot if not taller and so broad in proportion. I found myself wondering if all of him was so big. Once we were in the office he locked the door behind us. This is when I got a little scared I thought maybe before he was teasing me and just wanted me to put some stain remover onto the spots. I was standing watching him as he sat in his office chair. His hand moved slowly to the zipper on his pants, his voice was husky with lust when he spoke ".
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Besides, we're called to be salt and light in this world, this universe, really. I think we're doing that." Do you think you'll ever go back to being a pastor someday? I mean, you still believe in Jesus, right?"I nodded. "I still believe—some days more than others—but no, my pastor days are long gone. The Apostle Paul was very specific: A pastor, if he is married, is to be the husband of but one wife. That's not me anymore." Well," my daughter began with smirk, "technically you're not married."I couldn't help but chuckle. "Actually, the Greek literally says that a pastor or 'overseer' is to be a 'one woman man'—so even your technicality doesn't help, though I appreciate the effort." Mom's miserable," she then told me, somewhat out of the blue."I know."She lifted her head up and gave me a strange look."Oh, you mean she's miserable NOW as opposed to how she usually is," I corrected with as straight a face as I could maintain. "My mistake." Dad!" She protested, slapping me lightly on.

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