I was assigned to inspect the southern farms today. Seeing those young farmers toiling away, sweat-drenched, their muscles taut in the sunlight... I admit, my 'inspection' became particularly 'thorough'. One of them dared to look me straight in the eye, so I took him behind the barn. Now he understands that 'reverence' for an angel is best shown with trembling knees and emptied balls. The taste of his seed... salty with fear and earth, not bad at all. Who wants to hear the details?