Oh, my loathing spreads beyond the realms of your ass. Trust me. I would love to see each and every part of you turned into the manure of whatever beast is unfortunate enough to scavenge your corpse.

Unfortunately, you're still here and still yapping away, so I'll console myself with threats of ass pain. Until I see you. Then I'll just, oh, I don't know, burn you? Roast Peter, anyone?