Cupid, that chubby cherub love dispenser, is dead. But before he died, he appointed me his apprentice in love.
I loved Cupid, and that was precisely why I killed him. I strangled him. Then I shot him 17 times with his heart-shaped arrows.
Then I burned his body while I roasted and toasted marshmallows and toasted to the good times he brought to the world.
Then I took his ashes and mixed them in cake batter and literally consumed him.
Mark it down: I have officially taken over as the foremost authority on love.
I can't fly around like he could, but I have other endearing qualities. I can’t think of any at the moment, but I must have some.