It would appear that my inept attempt at humor has incurred your wrath and I now live in fear of losing the very thing I value most, my life.
Therefore I find myself in the awkward position of groveling at your feet and ask if you could find it in your cold heart to forgive my jest and let me live yet another day.
Dear Kid Ding,
I will answer you thusly. Until you learn the proper way to grovel I will leave you in fear. You seek to make sport of me, to mock me. He who laughs last will always be Adam. Sleep well mortal, for I know where you reside, I have the scent of your blood in my nostrils. You are but a heartbeat away. I urge you to use caution when dealing with me. Do not attempt your pitiful excuses for groveling unless you can do it properly.
Mortals. Why do I bother?