Baking the Doom Pie

[Wyvern]

The two ghouls standing beside Wyvern's Office desk rasp as they set down the large moss-covered vat they carry. The hideous creatures both sport trendy (albeit torn and dirty) T-shirts, funeral caps, and gloves made out of their own deteriorating flesh. The taller ghoul on the left has "Party till the Undeath!" scrawled on his Tee, while the one on the right simply sports a picture of Marilyn Manson.

 

"Sssorry to keep you all waiting."

 

Wyvern strides into the Office and grins. He stuffs what appears to be a black glove into his pocket, then approaches the ghouls and sneers at each of them in turn. He nudges the tall one with a scaly shoulder, but pauses and cringes as he cracks one of the ghoul's ribs by accident.

 

"Errr, sorry about that." Wyvern jitters. "You must be some frat ghouls who saw my add for imported air. Am I right?"

 

The shorter ghoul grins, dislocating his jaw.

 

"Paarrty at Jooooe's Cuuurrrsed Graaaaveyard... Flesh fall off Jamie, skelllleton now. Weee ceeellllebrate."

 

"Aiirr kegs gooood." The tall ghoul slowly nods, evoking several cracking sounds. "Unnndeead get hiiigh. Take the air plain, huh huh huh."

 

"Exxxcellent, I've been waiting for a pair like you to arrive." Wyvern rubs his scaly claws together and cackles. "You brought the product?"

 

"Seeeee fooorrr seeellllllf." The short ghoul kicks the moss-covered vat as the tall ghoul begins opening its lid. Wyvern's eyes widen upon viewing the contents of the vat, and he marvels at the batter within. The lizard gently strokes a claw through the substance, testing its worth.

 

"Ohhhh, this stuff is fresh." Wyvern lifts his claw from the batter, pulling out a bat wing. "I'll take it! Help yourself to all the imported air you want. It's at the bar in the back."

 

The ghouls let out a collective moan of joy, then both turn towards the air bar area. They tear open their stomaches and begin stuffing themselves with cans of imported air. Wyvern waits until the ghouls have stored their shares of air, then watches as they exit from the Office. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his black "glove," slipping it onto his claw and cackling to himself. He pauses and frowns, however, when the "glove" comes to life and turns its head towards him.

 

"I, the Cursed Sockpuppet of Unholy Corruption, Eternal Damnation and Doom, known to mortals as Satan's Sockpuppet, am finally awakened! Thank you my liege, I assure you that the decision you have chosen to take in awakening me is a most wise and cunning one."

 

Wyvern stands in silence for a very long moment, staring at the "glove." He raises a brow.

 

"You... talk?"

 

"Indeed. A most astute and intelligent observation, my liege." The puppet seems to bow its head slightly. "I shall act as your most humble and trusted associate from this point forward. With my power, wisdom, and knowledge, you shall always be assured that you are doing the right thing."

 

"Ummm." Wyvern continues staring at the "glove." He frowns. "O.K."

 

"I must say." Satan's Sockpuppet waves back and forth on Wyvern's claw as the lizard wanders towards the Office door. "This seat is not quite as comfortable as those I've experienced in previous years. I suppose I should have expected as much, given your superior scales and demeanor. Yes yes, far superior."

 

Wyvern raises his "glove" to turn the knob of the Office door, only to find that the knob is stuck.

 

"What'sss the problem, Woody?" Wyvern's frown deepens as he stares at the door. "I need to get out."

 

"I'll tell you what the problem is." Woody's grainy voice comes out in a growl, and he nudges open a little. "I don't like the way your new 'associate' is staring at my frame."

 

"Silence, you inferior piece of wood!" Satan's Sockpuppet raises a puppet fist and shakes it. "If Wyvern wants to exit these quarters, you shall let him through immediately, is this understood? Look into my eyes, you oversized bed frame. You never even saw me here."

 

"Piece of wood?!" Woody slams open with a bang. "Well I got news for you, puppet: us doors don't have eyes. You're gonna get yours!"

 

Wyvern stares at his "glove," then at Woody. The lizard sighs and shakes his head, then wanders off into the hall in search of Bravery.

[Wyvern]

"Look, I'm O.K with playing on this Almost Dragonic Brand Portable Mini-Organ™ for a bit." Bravery shuffles half of a piece of white plaster in his hands. "But do I really have to wear this mask?"

 

"The massssk adds atmosphere." Wyvern grins at the "Phantom of the Opera" set up in his office, tapping a claw on the Mini-Organ sitting next to Bravery. The wet halfling gut wobbles and squelches, causing Bravery to twist his nose and cringe.

 

"It sure is a weird instrument..."

 

"It is the perfect instrument and costume for the situation." The voice of Satan's Sockpuppet echoes from Wyvern's right claw. "I assure you of its perfection, my Lord Wyvern. And as to you, dwarf: the great Wyvern should not be questioned! Look into my eyes."

 

Bravery rolls his eyes and places the mask over half of his face.

 

"No thanks."

 

Wyvern hums and nods as Bravery begins playing on the Mini-Organ, evoking odd squelching sounds and bursts akin to flatulence. The reptilian Elder turns to his vat of fresh batter and pushes it towards the AARKaSL. He pauses as he examines the large weapon.

 

"Yes, your moving this vat from one side of the room to another has been an excellent course of action, my liege. Truly excellent."

 

"Let'sss see here." Wyvern examines the AARKaSL from each side, tapping different parts of it with his claw. "Some adjustments will probably have to be made."

 

"Adjustments, yes, that sounds like a brilliant idea my sire. Adjust it, and it shall work towards your purpo-ow! Please my liege, mind where you tap my head."

 

"Hmmm." Wyvern unlatches a plate from the AARKaSL and stares into the dark hole of circuitry. "The egg beatersss'll go in here, I guess. I'll just put the pie tin under th-"

 

"Yes, install the egg beaters there my liege, that would be a most cunning and innovative idea." The flatulence noises of the Mini-Organ rind loudly in the background. "Yes, the pie tin, yes. Underneath the nozel, a most intriguing idea my liege."

 

Wyvern stomps his foot on the ground as he lifts himself from his kneeling position. He stares at the ceiling and grits his teeth for a moment, then turns to the "glove" on his claw.

 

"Listen, glove... would you stop talking so much? It's distracting me."

 

"Oh yes my liege. Yes, that would be a most excellent command to give me, I assure you."

 

"Fine." Wyvern growls something under his breath, then begins searching through the piles of paper that litter his office. "Now where did I put that-"

 

"Yes, your searching for the pie tin is an excellent way to go about commencing the project, my liege."

 

The flatulence of the Mini-Organ rings out in an off-key squelch.

 

"The continuence of this search is a most courageous and intelligent course of action to take, my liege."

 

Wyvern freezes in place and bars his razor-sharp teeth, then glares at the "glove." He shakes his head in frantic disbelief and slams his right claw onto his desktop.

 

"That does it!" Wyvern points with his other claw. "You're not speaking another word! Bravery, come here!"

 

The Mini-Organ melodies cease as Bravery drops his mask and lifts himself from his seat.

 

"Get me a needle and some thread." Wyvern shakes his head in the direction of the Office Door. "We're sowing this glove's mouth shut."

 

"Ah yes my liege, that would be a most strong and- you're what?"

 

"Sure thing Wyv. I'll be right back."

 

"You cannot sow my mouth shut. I am the Cursed Sockpuppet of Unholy Corruption, Eternal Damnation and Doom! My alluring words and advice make those of vaudevillian sockpuppets seem petty and obscure."

 

Bravery reenters the Office holding a needle and some thread.

 

"I-I shall teleport myself back to Satan's Sockdrawer, as I always do when encounting danger. Bwahahahaha, foolish mortals. I shall see you in Hell!"

 

The "glove" suddenly vanishes from Wyvern's right claw, causing both Bravery and Wyvern to gape. After a moment of silence, Wyvern begins tearing at the scales on his head.

 

"I don't believe thisss, what a rip-off! To think that I gave a Swiftness Potion for that piece of junk! I'm gonna demand a refund for thi-"

 

"I don't think that'll be necessary, Wyv." The grainy voice of Woody the Door booms through the Office in an amused tone. "Let me handle it."

 

Wyvern and Bravery listen in silence as Woody begins muttering a number of arcane words under his breath, mentioning the phrase "Mahogoney Closet" several times in his prayer. They both jump in shock as a large wooden sockdrawer materializes in the middle of the office out of thin air. The drawer is colored in a deep crimson red, and has the framed pictures of numerous succubi sitting on top of it.

 

"Ah, I've escaped once again." The muffled voice of Satan's Sockpuppet comes from the top drawer. "That foolish red gecko is probably stunned at the moment, along with that pathetic little dwarf of his. Hahaha, just imagining the looks on their faces is a pleasure in and of itself..."

 

Wyvern smiles, then silently takes the needle and thread from Bravery's hands and approaches the sockdrawer.

[Wyvern]

Wyvern carefully tilts the moss-covered vat, pouring its contents into the upper-nozel of the AARKaSL. The overgrown lizard squints and bites his lip as a hint of batter dribbles down the side of the cannon. His scaly knees tremble a bit as he readjusts the position of the container. Underneath the large vat, the "glove" on Wyvern's right claw stares towards the ground with a glum demeanor, its former-mouth decorated in a pattern of cross stitches.

 

You'll never get away with this.

 

Wyvern empties the last of the batter and tosses the large vat to the side. He grins and dusts off his claws, only to pause and cringe as he recognizes the voice.

 

"You again?! Didn't we sow your mouth tight enough?"

 

Satan's Sockpuppet stares up from Wyvern's claw, his gemstone eyes indifferent given his motionless mouth.

 

I can still communicate to your mind via Terrorpathy, you foolish lizard. It's only a matter of time now before the Forces of Light arrive to stop your evil plans. Then, I'll have your claw!

 

"Geeze, you never shut up do you?" Wyvern claps his claws hard. "Haven't you caused enough trouble already with that bad breath of yours?"

 

Wyvern turns Satan's Sockpuppet in the direction of Bravery to illustrate his point. The dwarf continues to play on the Almost Dragonic Brand Mini-Organ,™ his face and hands charred black with burn marks. Bravery pauses in his playing to cast Wyvern an uncertain glance, confused as to who the lizard might be talking to.

 

My jets of flame are only a tiny fraction of the wrath you will feel for defacing my beautiful visage. It is only a matter of time now, you bloated gecko.

 

"Sure sure, forces of light yadda yadda." Wyvern rolls his eyes and makes a few final adjustments on the AARKaSL, tweaking knobs and gidgets. "Yeesh, I'm beginning to think that you're a worst investment than those Almost Dragonic Brand Stinky Troll Sockpuppets™ I fabricated years ago. And those things made Athlete'sss Foot look like minor league mold."

 

You dare to compare me to filthy secondhand puppets? Surely, you jest! Your time will come, lizard. Your time will co-

 

"Lisssten." Wyvern growls through his teeth and raises his right hand to his face. The lizard's beady eyes narrow. "If you keep 'Terrorpathying' me, your gonna force me to get really nasty. And trust me, you don't want nasssty."

 

Wyvern examines sockets and switches on the AARKaSL for a moment without interruption, the Mini-Organ squelching harmoniously in the background. He then balls his left claw into a fist as the Terrorpathy cues up again.

 

You don't scare me, lizard. I've seen and experienced dictators far more evil and-

 

"O.K. You've just decided for me." Wyvern stands from his position and sneers at the "glove" with malice. "The pie'll have a few extra decorations."

 

Extra decorations? What are you- no! NO!

 

Wyvern gingerly narrows his claws around the fabric under the puppet's gemstone eyes. He tears at it for a moment, then plucks the gems out one at a time.

 

Aaaiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeee! Y-you bastard, I can't see! M-my hypnotism, what will I-

 

"If you don't quiet up now, I'm stuffing you with cotton and using you as a Melba voodoo doll after this project is over. Capiche?"

 

Wyvern slowly nods upon being answered by silence. He gives the AARKaSL a final inspection, then signals to Bravery with a claw.

 

"Bravery, have we completed the list?"

 

Bravery ceases in his playing and turns over his Mini-Organ sheet music, revealing a checklist scrawled on the back.

 

"Looks like it Wyv. All the ingredients and kitchen utensils used for making a good pie... Not sure how it'll work with that cannon of yours, though."

 

"We'll see." Wyvern grins and cackles, spreading his scaly arms. "Dwarfs, Doors, and Annoying Talkative Gloves... you are about to bear witness to an historic moment in pie baking history. The Automatic Alternating Repeating Kendricke and Scorn Launcher shall function as a mixer, beater, meader, and oven simultaneously, baking the pie of the century. The Automatic Alternating Repeating function of the weapon shall feed shots into the cannon itself, thereby causing a destructive turmoil within the batter and other ingredients. The cannon shall then overheat, acting as an oven and spouting its contents into the pie tin located underneath the lower nozel of the device. Gentlemen, please don your sssafety equipment."

 

Bravery puts on a pair of dwarven goggles, Wyvern tosses on a some googly eye glasses, and Woody covers himself in a white lab cloth. Satan's Sockpuppet does nothing, given his lack of eyes.

 

"Let the baking begin!"

 

Wyvern slams the 'ON' switch of the AARKaSL with his tail. The device begins rumbling and trembling, the batter within going through countless atrocities. Sparks fly as the rumbling grows louder. The weapon grows red with heat and begins bouncing up and down. Wyvern and Bravery duck and cover as a loud roar fills the Office. The room goes dark with a crack and a bang before the noises cease.

[Wyvern]

Epilogue

 

"You're sure you want to keep that thing, Wyv?"

 

Woody remains motionless, his voice directed at the tattered black sock that rests on Wyvern's desk chair

 

"Well, of courssse. I paid for it, didn't I?" Wyvern grins and brushes a claw along the red sockdrawer that rests at the center of the room. "Besides, now that his arms have been cut off and the holes have been sewn up, I think it'll make a pretty nice sock."

 

"Errr, fair enough."

 

Woody swings open for a moment as Bravery reenters the Office. The Elder Dwarf shakes his head and wipes some sweat from his brow. He catches his breath for a few minutes, then turns his head to Wyvern and gasps:

 

"The remains of the AARKaSL *pant* have been disposed *pant* like you asked Wyv. Shame, *pant* looked like a pretty nice weapon."

 

"Oh, I'm sure somebody'll find something to do with the little bits and pieces that remain of it." Wyvern grins and circles around Satan's Sockdrawer. "I bet the remains of that dented circuit board'll make a nice halfling shoulder pad or something."

 

"Yeah." Bravery sits and leans back against the Office wall. "But it's not the same..."

 

"Well." Wyvern grins and tilts his head towards a sheathed pie tin that rests on his cluttered desktop. "At least the experiment was a successss."

 

"*Ahem!*" Wyvern and Bravery both turn towards Woody. The door begins to concentrate. "Whenever you give the word, Wyvern."

 

"Sssure, just give me one second."

 

Wyvern examines the crimson sockdrawer for a moment, then plucks one of the picture frames from the top of it. The picture details two succubi in a position so tantalizing and suggestive that no mortal words can properly describe it. The lizard casts a quick glance in both directions, then licks his lips and pulls the photo out of the frame. He places the empty picture frame back in its former position, and whistles innocently while hiding the picture behind his back.

 

"Take it away, err, y'know, Woody."

 

Woody begins muttering Mahogoney prayers under his breath, detailing countless centuries of fallen trees as well as a certain special 'Closet.' As Satan's Sockdrawer begins to dematerialize, Wyvern searches for a place to hide the picture. He smirks upon arriving at the tattered sock that rests on his seat, and carefully tucks the picture within it.

 

"Well, at leassst your good for something."

 

;-)

 

Fin~