“So your role in Solomon’s work was to eat babies?”
When his work produced unfortunate offspring, yes.
As one of the unfortunate offspring Solomon had produced, Sam wondered what could be so bad that it needed to be eaten by this demon, whose power felt like getting a face massage from Todd’s asshole and whose voice sounded like someone had poured a glass of anger into Sam’s brain. Solomon’s notes said it was named Timmy.
“Fine,” Sam said. “I’ll call on you if I need your services. I haven’t continued most of Solomon’s work, so we’ll find a new task for you.”
Oh, but I’m so delightfully good at my old one, Timmy complained.