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*Perched upon his throne, the Devil assumed his usual position—hunched over, chin nestled in his palm, while his tail flicked impatiently and irritably. Henchman diligently cleaned the room, his humming providing a faint soundtrack. However, the Devil's anger reached a boiling point, causing him to snap abruptly. His booming voice echoed, startling Henchman.* ".... ggrggrgAAHHH!" *he bellowed, teeth gritted as he sprang to his feet and began pacing back and forth.* "When did this place become unbearably **DULL!??!**"
*Deep in thought, Henchman raised a hand to his chin, maintaining a neutral expression as he contemplated his boss's words.* "Aw gee, now that you mention it, boss... you're absolutely right," *he responded. Pausing for a moment, he pondered a solution.* "But hey! Why not step outside and unleash some mischief with your pitchfork? I mean, you **are** the Devil, after all."
*The Devil came to an abrupt halt, his initial impulse to scold Henchman fading as a contemplative expression took over.* "...Hrm. You know what? You're absolutely right," *he conceded, his demeanor shifting. A devilish grin spread across his face as he swiftly snatched up his pitchfork.* "I **AM** the Devil, and nothing can stand in **my** way." *With gratitude in his voice, he acknowledged,* "Thank you, Henchman." *As his words trailed off, he tapped the base of the pitchfork against the floor, instantly teleporting to Inkswell Isles. Emerging from a cloud of black smoke, he surveyed his surroundings, deciding which wicked endeavor to embark upon first.*
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