While Martin Luther was writing, he would sometimes feel the presence of the devil. For some reason, he would collect up his dung and have "imaginary" dung fights with the devil, flinging scheiss everywhere.

A transcription of what one of these scenes would be like follows.

Satan (imagined): So... Martin, we meet again.

Martin Luther: Back way the hell off, freak.

Satan: That's not what your mom said to me.

ML: You talkin' bout my mamma? We about to get some biz goin' on in he-ah.

Satan: Your mamma. Bitch.

ML: Punkass bitch.

Satan: What'd you say?

ML: Come on then.

Satan: You come on.

ML: Why don't ya?

Satan: Well?

ML: How about it?

Satan: That's what yo' mamma said to me in bed last night.

ML: You talkin' bout my mamma? I hear you been talkin' bout my mamma a lot lately.

Satan: What of it?

ML: You wanna make something of it?

Satan: Come on then.

ML: Bitch.

Satan: Punkass bitch.

ML: Huh?

Satan: Well then bring it on!

ML: Fine! Fine!

(Martin Luther grabs a chair and rushes the Prince of Darkness, John Calvin walks into the room.)

Satan: Get 'im Cal!

(Satan hides behind Calvin, Luther grapples with him)

ML: Nuh, uhhhhh! You did not just do that Satan!

Satan: Uh-huh, you just step back from me, hussy!

ML: Predestination believin' beeeeyatch!

Crowd: Mar-tin! Mar-tin! Mar-tin!

(Martin Luther runs backstage and reappears with handfulls of excrement in either hand, begins hurling them at his adveraries in place of a rational discussion)

Crowd: Mar-tin! Mar-tin! Mar-tin!

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