BlueDevil
Super Penguin Number 2
So begins yet another sorrowfully gloomy, grey morning, with the same flavor of hot tea on the table, and a wooden rocking chair that smells of lovely greens settled next to the window of the simple, but cozy apartment room overlooking the distant city below, and the harbor beyond that, and the grey sea beyond that. Some find this to be a drab life, but I, however, find it to be, well, perfect. My name is Sparda. And I work for the Daily Bugle. On a side note…I am SUPREME SAVIOR OF THE WORLD. How so? A mighty demon, I am. I do not share common views with my brethren however, and to be honest, I do NOT like humans. Not at all. I despise them. But, because I preferred lord Mundus’ chefs to boil them, and not fry them…I was looked at like a traitor, and cast out. So I made the decision to learn how to boil my own humans, Mundus sent his legions to take them all away, so I fought and fought until they stopped coming, and then sealed them back in Hell.
But what happened next surprised me, stunned me even. Humanity bowed to ME as their Savior. I guess they didn’t know I meant to cook them. But, you know, being treated like a king by your food kind of makes you not want to eat it. Besides, there’s this one girl that actually likes me more than a Savior or something…she loves me, I think. I’ll be sure and keep her around. Everyone else is expendable though. I think her name is Eva…I’ve decided that I want to make babies with her.
“SPARDA! WHAT IS THIS LOAD OF CRAP?!” An angry, squat, balding man yelled at me. Mr. Cross, my boss. Unintentional rhyme. ;D
“Why…it’s my entry for the newspaper…”
“FIRED.”
So I go home after a long, grueling lunch with some workmates who want to say bye, and pick up Dante from school. Ah, Dante…a wonderful young lad. Every bit as great as me. Hopefully when he grows up, he’ll be better than me…but not better…because then he’d be better than me. No father wants that. As I walked through the door holding the tot, I was confronted by the wife. Frightening.
“Sparda, where’s Vergil, still in the car?”
“What’s a Vergil?” Many have told me that I’m a neglectful father, only treating one of my children with the love and compassion every child deserves from their father. Nay! They don’t understand. I’m a father to one. Not two. I have no idea who this Vergil child is that EVERYone keeps on babbling about, but they need to stop making this junk up. I’m tired of it. I LOVE my son…My son, Dante.
“YOU IDIOT! I told you to pick Vergil up from the library after you got Dante from school, and I’m sure he’s stuck there all alone, worried sick about, oh I don’t know! Whatever little boys think of.”
“Tits.”
Dante giggled and repeated, “Tits!”
“Look what he’s saying now, you oaf!”
“I can’t help it my boy knows what he likes!”
“Tits!”
“That’s right son.”
“Go pick up your other son, NOW.”
“Fine. I’ll go find and deliver to you, said child.”
“Tits!”
“SHUT UP, DANTE.” Eva screamed. Dante cried.
“How could you be so mean to our only son, you old hag!”
“HAG?!”
----Meanwhile----Vergil----
The place smelled of rich mahogany. Mahogany. I thought about the word. There are many words in the world. And letters too. But even more numbers. As a matter of fact, there are infinite numbers. I, Vergil, firstborn of the honorable Sparda bloodline, know this for sure. However, my train of thought on this matter is being completely shattered by the low growl from across the library. The short, morbidly obese librarian is staring at me. I feel her eyes burning into me. She resembles my favorite kickball, however if I kick her, I know it would be a different story. The growl was almost completely silent, but threateningly feral. Almost like that you would expect from an angered, aged and tiny dog. This disturbed me deeply. My hyper intelligent, five year old mind can only handle so much...old lady.
But what happened next surprised me, stunned me even. Humanity bowed to ME as their Savior. I guess they didn’t know I meant to cook them. But, you know, being treated like a king by your food kind of makes you not want to eat it. Besides, there’s this one girl that actually likes me more than a Savior or something…she loves me, I think. I’ll be sure and keep her around. Everyone else is expendable though. I think her name is Eva…I’ve decided that I want to make babies with her.
“SPARDA! WHAT IS THIS LOAD OF CRAP?!” An angry, squat, balding man yelled at me. Mr. Cross, my boss. Unintentional rhyme. ;D
“Why…it’s my entry for the newspaper…”
“FIRED.”
So I go home after a long, grueling lunch with some workmates who want to say bye, and pick up Dante from school. Ah, Dante…a wonderful young lad. Every bit as great as me. Hopefully when he grows up, he’ll be better than me…but not better…because then he’d be better than me. No father wants that. As I walked through the door holding the tot, I was confronted by the wife. Frightening.
“Sparda, where’s Vergil, still in the car?”
“What’s a Vergil?” Many have told me that I’m a neglectful father, only treating one of my children with the love and compassion every child deserves from their father. Nay! They don’t understand. I’m a father to one. Not two. I have no idea who this Vergil child is that EVERYone keeps on babbling about, but they need to stop making this junk up. I’m tired of it. I LOVE my son…My son, Dante.
“YOU IDIOT! I told you to pick Vergil up from the library after you got Dante from school, and I’m sure he’s stuck there all alone, worried sick about, oh I don’t know! Whatever little boys think of.”
“Tits.”
Dante giggled and repeated, “Tits!”
“Look what he’s saying now, you oaf!”
“I can’t help it my boy knows what he likes!”
“Tits!”
“That’s right son.”
“Go pick up your other son, NOW.”
“Fine. I’ll go find and deliver to you, said child.”
“Tits!”
“SHUT UP, DANTE.” Eva screamed. Dante cried.
“How could you be so mean to our only son, you old hag!”
“HAG?!”
----Meanwhile----Vergil----
The place smelled of rich mahogany. Mahogany. I thought about the word. There are many words in the world. And letters too. But even more numbers. As a matter of fact, there are infinite numbers. I, Vergil, firstborn of the honorable Sparda bloodline, know this for sure. However, my train of thought on this matter is being completely shattered by the low growl from across the library. The short, morbidly obese librarian is staring at me. I feel her eyes burning into me. She resembles my favorite kickball, however if I kick her, I know it would be a different story. The growl was almost completely silent, but threateningly feral. Almost like that you would expect from an angered, aged and tiny dog. This disturbed me deeply. My hyper intelligent, five year old mind can only handle so much...old lady.
