This is a simple story
About a Priest named Kree.
Who went and had himself
A little, killing spree.

First was his mum,
With a butter knife.
Next with a spoon,
He did his wife.

He traveled the world,
A friendly dear
Then he would slice you,
from ear to ear

If they're unlucky,
Survive the first strike.
Always they'll ask,
Why they deserve the pike.

I'm God's flock,
A faithful sort.
All i ever do,
Is pray a lot.

And old Kree would smile and
SWISH!
Why? Am i not granting your wish?


Note : An intro for an appearing character in the Excerpts