Chapter 25; The Pony
The Imp knew that he should be happy or at least not so depressed. His Master finally had a Tower of Doom, a symbol of Darkness and Evil. Yet there was something that was ruining this evil moment… And that something was the darn cute pony that his Master had wished for.
That damn idiot had sold his soul to the cruelest of all Demons… in exchange for a damn pony… How pathetic was that?
"Can you please stop patting that damn pony?" – growled the Imp.
The Necromancer was always patting that damn animal. And the Imp hated that… He liked to be the centre of all the attention. Sharing wasn't part of the Imp's dictionary.
"Oh, Imp! Are you feeling jealous?" – asked the Necromancer.
Of course he was! But he would never admit that… Admitting such feeling was showing a weakness. And besides… He wouldn't give the pony that satisfaction…
"Me? Jealous of that damn fish?" – mocked the clearly jealous Familiar.
The Necromancer scratched his head in confusion.
"I think that ponies are mammals." – offered the Wizard.
"Who cares?" – yelled the Imp.
"Well… If he was a fish, he couldn't breathe out of water." – explained the Necromancer.
"Shut up, you fool!" – ordered the Imp.
Okay! So there was a minor setback in the Imp's plan. His Master was an idiot and the damn pony was here instead of being eaten alive by a pack of dire wolves… But at least he had the Tower of Doom. A worthy prize, for an evil fiend from Hell.
"I like this Tower of Doom. You can practically smell the evil of this place." – stated the Imp.
The Wizard looked ashamed all of the sudden. The Imp's glare reflected curiosity and at the same time pure hatred. A very difficult combination, which the fiend had mastered to perfection over the time with his Master.
"Errr… I don't think that smell is from the evil of this place…" – squeaked the Necromancer.
"What?" – raged the Imp.
How he hated to be corrected… especially by this damn idiot…
"The pony had to go to the bathroom…" – continued the Necromancer.
"Huh?" – growled the Imp.
"Only we don't have a bathroom for ponies… So he had to do it on that corner over there." – concluded the Wizard.
"That's just gross…" - mumbled the Imp.
"And stinky." – added the Necromancer.
"How I hate that pony…" – murmured the Imp.
"Duck." – stated the Wizard.
Suddenly, the Imp ducked and threw himself on the ground. The Necromancer just stood patiently observing his Familiar. The Wizard concluded that it must have been the Imp's nap time.
"What happened?" – demanded the Imp, looking a bit paranoid.
"Well… I don't know… I was just talking to you and…" – explained the Wizard.
"Why did you tell me to duck?" – yelled the Imp.
"I didn't tell you to duck." – replied the Necromancer.
"You didn't?" – asked the Imp.
"I said Duck." – corrected the Necromancer.
Well… That didn't make much sense. But the Imp should have been expecting that. His Master rarely made sense. And when he did make sense, the Imp often wished that he hadn't.
"Huh?" – questioned the Imp.
"It is the name of the pony." – said the Necromancer.
"The name of the pony is Duck?" – shouted the Imp.
"That is what I said." – confirmed the Wizard.
"You called the darn beast Duck?" – demanded the fiend.
"Yeah! I think he likes it! Don't you, Duck?" – asked the Necromancer.
The pony didn't answer the question. He just stood there looking cute.
"Just… just… order a Zombie or two to clean that up, okay?" – begged the Imp.
"Will do!" – answered the Necromancer.
The Wizard looked around and found two Zombies that were standing guard near the stairs. The Imp had ordered to the Necromancer to put Zombies guarding every floor… something about distracting adventurers or the milkman.
"Clean that up, please." – stated the Necromancer.
"Brains… Brains… Brains…" – growled one of the Zombies.
The other Zombie looked rather surprised at the Wizard's request and scratched his head.
"Oh, I say old chap. That is a very nasty order that you are giving us." – replied the Zombie that had been surprised at the request.
"What?" – inquired the Necromancer.
"I mean, I know we are Undead, but we have feelings, too." – added the Zombie.
"I am sorry…" – said the Wizard, looking ashamed.
"I mean, as a Lawyer I could sue you and all of that jazz." – warned the Zombie, but always maintaining his posture.
"Oh, no, no! I wouldn't want that! I promise that next time I will clean it myself!" – promised the Necromancer.
The Zombie nodded and gave a friendly slap on the Wizard's back.
"That's okay! Just be more thoughtful next time, old chap." – begged the Zombie.
"Very well…" – agreed the Necromancer.
The Imp's look reflected confusion and horror. How could his Master be so spineless?
"I forget… Who commands who?" – jested the vile Imp.
"That guy is one of the best Lawyers of the realms… I don't want to be sued." – explained the terrified Necromancer.
He didn't have any problems selling his soul for a pony, but he couldn't stand being sued? The Imp's eyes were red with anger.
"Shut up!" – ordered the Imp.
"But…" – cried the Necromancer.
The Imp tried to focus on the Tower of Doom. It was his prize, his greatest of dreams. His Master was an idiot, but an idiot with a Tower of Doom. The fiend chuckled at the thought.
"Have you thought about a name for the Tower of Doom?"- inquired the Imp.
"Oh? Should it have a name?" – asked the Necromancer.
"It would be more helpful for the postman when he brings us some letters." – reminded the Imp.
"I guess you are right… Hey! Don't we have the only Tower of Doom in the swamp near Neverending?" – pointed out the Necromancer.
"Well, okay, but you must think in long terms. Who knows? Maybe some Dark Elder God will build a Temple or two in here, or maybe some Orcs will choose to live in the caves we found near the Tower of Doom… You must think of everything, Master!" – explained the Imp.
"I guess that you are right…" – murmured the Necromancer.
"I am always right." – corrected the Imp.
"What about Roger´s Tower of Doom?" – questioned the Necromancer.
"Who the hell is Roger?" – growled the Imp.
"Well… I am Roger." – answered the Necromancer.
"What?" – demanded the Imp.
"Didn't you know that?" – asked the confused Wizard.
"Roger?" – muttered the fiend.
"Yeah!" – confirmed the Necromancer.
"You must be joking…" – begged the Imp.
"No… My name is Roger." – repeated the Wizard.
"Roger the Necromancer?" – cried the Imp.
"That's me." – stated the Necromancer with a joyful smile.
"You must promise me one thing…" – murmured the Imp.
"What?" – inquired the Necromancer.
"Never tell the Heroes your true name." – begged the Imp.
"Huh? What is wrong with Roger?" – demanded the Wizard.
"It just isn't… well… very evil…" – explained the fiend.
The Necromancer scratched his chin, and seemed very thoughtful for a moment or two.
"Roger seems quite evil for a name." – offered the Necromancer.
The Zombie decided to join the conversation, while his companion was occupied cleaning the corner. The Zombie picked up his monocle and coughed, in order to be noticed.
"Actually, old chap, it seems a name more appropriate for a Pirate." – said the Zombie.
That statement seemed to make the conversation even more pointless and complex. The Zombie took a small pipe from one of pockets and used a match on it. The smoke that came out of it was green and slimy.
"A Pirate?" – demanded the Imp.
"Well… I mean Captain Roger seems quite catchy." – added the Zombie.
"But aren't Pirates evil?" – asked the Necromancer.
The Zombie seemed to think about his answer, while he smoked his pipe.
"Most of them are just drunken savages, really." – confessed the Zombie.
"Oh!" – exclaimed the Necromancer, feeling even more confused than usual.
"And Captain Roger seems an appropriate name for a drunken savage." – concluded the Zombie.
"An evil drunken savage?" – questioned the Necromancer.
"No. Just a drunken savage." – replied the Zombie.
The Imp was sick and tired of this dirty imbecile. That and that damn pipe was getting on his nerves.
"Shut up, you idiot! Go and clean the floor!" – growled the Imp.
The zombie looked at the Imp, as if the fiend was a mere dust ball.
"I say… How rude, old chap! Where are your manners?" – demanded the Zombie.
"I am a fiend from Hell! I don't have any manners!" – answered the Imp, showing him a cruel and vile smile.
"Well, I am a flesh eating Zombie and you don't see me burping and cursing at everything that moves. I mean, we have to be civil, old chap. Being civil is what separates us from furniture." – explained the Zombie.
The Imp sighed. He was beginning to get another headache; he could endure one idiot, but two idiots? He wasn't sadistic enough for this kind of torture.
"Go away!" – raged the Imp.
"Ah, ah! What is the magic word?" – asked the Zombie.
"Errr…" – murmured the Imp.
"You can do it, old chap! Say it!" – offered the Zombie.
"Please… go away…" – begged the Imp.
The Zombie started applauding the Imp's effort, which made the Imp feel really ashamed by his actions. What would the other Demons and Devils think? He had a reputation as an evil and rude creature to maintain.
"Super, old chap!" – stated the Zombie, before he left.
The Imp shrugged and examined his Master. The Necromancer was making funny faces, as if he had suddenly gone mad. That would kind of neat, the Imp thought.
"And you… Don't you dare use your damn name!" – ordered the Imp.
But his Master wasn't paying any attention to him. He was still making some funny faces and walking in an awkward way.
"Argh, matey!" – yelled the Necromancer, almost giving the Imp a heart attack.
"What was that?" – squeaked the Imp.
"Shiver me timbers!" – shouted the Necromancer, while jumping up and down.
"Huh?" – mumbled the Imp.
"Walk the plank, ya land lover!" – ordered the Necromancer, while pretending that one of his hands was a hook.
"Shut up, you fool!" – raged the Imp.
The Necromancer showed him a sad look, as if the Imp had ruined his fun.
"Oh, but the Lawyer Zombie guy said that Roger was a Pirate name." – cried the Wizard, while looking at his feet.
"The other Zombie said "Brains… Brains… Brains…", but that doesn't mean you have one." - mocked the fiend.
"I guess that you are right." – admitted the Necromancer.
The Imp nodded in agreement. Finally, his Master was beginning to calm down and forget all those eccentricities.
"I get really seasick and all…" – added the Wizard, while showing a joyful smile.