"Bloody unfair, that's what I call it, eh, Clem?"
The floppy demon barely acknowledged Spike with a nod. He just kept searching the alley.
"Not enough they run all the bleeding games in this bloody town - well, they run off all the honest operators, didn't they? Not enough their bleeding establishments are bloody crooked! Well, prolly crooked. Yeah?"
Clem nodded again, barely looking up.
They impose this bloody ridiculous currency system on the whole bleeding Sunnydale supernatural community - kittens? That's not a worldwide mode of exchange, let me tell you! I've travelled, I have! This is all on them! Not everywhere, not by half!"
Clem shook his head and kept searching.
"But now, now! Now they're imposing a bleeding tax? How is that fair? Why do we put up with it, eh? Riddle me that! We are bloody demons! Why do we just go along with this tomfoolery?"
Clem shrugged. Then he snatched up a young cat from under a dumpster. "Think this'll do?"
"Yeah, prolly," Spike sighed, adding it to his sack. "Well, that's four for each of us. Let's go pay our bleeding kitten tax."