It was horrible.

Horrible. And terrible. It was so soul-destroyingly awful that mere words can not express just how mind-numbingly dreadful it was.

The pain, I mean. The pain was just really…really bad.

Horrendous, even.

Dr. Jack Irons endured the pain, not giving the horrid beast the satisfaction of crying out. He was too much of a man for that. And the beast was indefatigable, i.e. incapable of being tired out; not yielding to fatigue; untiring. Dr. Jack Irons wasn’t sure how much more he could take, or how much longer the beast would continue it’s relentless, sedulous, unrelenting assault.

Dr. Jack Irons checked his watch. The ghastly beast’s grisly attack had gone on for about twenty minutes, with no end in sight.

If only I hadn’t read from that evil book of dark magick, Dr. Jack Irons thought.

Indeed.

If only he hadn’t read from that evil book, Dr. Jack Irons wouldn’t be getting violently buggered to death by a primordial Goat-Man from beyond time.

It’s funny how these things work out.