"Ah. Ha-HAAAha! Lookie here and look at that, you multicultured plump little sunburned faggot of Gay! How long has it been?"
"Oooh. So a madman enters my plane… Not long enough, I assure you of that."
"It would've been longer, I tell ya! Had I not found you on the first try… to think—to imagine—that I found you on my first try? Just what are the odds?"
"One in One hundred thousand."
"Ha! Imagine that! Well, I suppose the odds tend to work in one's favor when you're an immortal god and all that. Eternity does give a certain way for planning—a certain way for predicting the predictable."
"So to what do I owe this… 'pleasure?'"
"¨A hundred thousand?¨ I have to say, no matter how many times I hear it—so many times I've struggled with the thought—I dare say, my fat-bellied friend, that I hold you—I hold you—in my utmost regards—and respect! To think that you, alone, rule over a hundred thousand realms in our own little eternity. When I, myself, barely do struggling with taking care of my own single one—my utmost respect!"
"Enough with the insults, Madgod, why are you here? Have you not your own realm to rule?"
"Oh, haha. I'm afraid my own little corner is quite the… well? Let's be honest, it's a madhouse, and one can only take so much.
"Isn't it always?"
"Ha! Quite the jest!—or was that a threat?"
"We've never been at one another's necks before, does it need to be?"
"Oh, I kind of hoped it was."
"As… as if I'd ever spend my time threatening you. So?"
"Boredom!—uttermost and borderline boredom I dare say—it's sickening! And here I was thinking to myself: hmmmm…. what better way—what better place to fight such a thing, where to find such a cure for something like that rather than here? Aaah, yes indeed, what better place than here with you, the Prince of—nay—the God of Entertainment?..."
"Ha!"
"...The man who rules a hundred thousand realms alone, amongst us who only has our own single one—our single little own?!"
"Enough with the eager asslicking, I have servants for that right now, so don't take me for a fool, you know as well as I do that numbers matters not for what we are."
"Oh, I've never taken you for a fool. A lazy bum, on the other hand! Or perhaps a twisted pervert with nails and roots digging as sharp and deep into sadism as my own?"
"If only Molag had a sense of humor, he wouldn't be that far off?"
"Aah, yees, poor little—chain-fingered, bloodstained, and utterly disturbing desecrating piece of a–!—Molag. I lost my taste for his humor the second he married that sexless elffffgod-thing. Bad sporting. Speaking of humor, that one's quite the bore. Not to mention his kin-brother—¨Stop you meddling or we'll end you all!"—as if they could, were it not for–"
"We all agreed, even you."
"All of us?"
Most of us. Enough that it mattered. I remember something like that taking place before, don't you?"
"Oh, how booring! Sooo utterly booooring!"
"Bha… bhahahahaha!"
"Saap! Ooh, sorry, old mate. My utmost apologies, getting off track! You know me, you know me—my tongue goes where it goes and my mind is a bit shattered, fractured everywhere else and in between. So many places it shouldn't be, a few more."
"Quite so. So get to the point then before I gather all those pieces and gobble them up!"
"Ah… I wouldn't want that—not at all—I wouldn't want to inflict that, that, that would be quite the predicament. So you wouldn't—no you wouldn't—deny an old friend and brother—a friend—a fiend—the possibility of being pleased with the sole moment of being one-self?"
"You rarely annoy me, but I dare say today you do."
"well, we rarely meet. But, oh, my dear, dear, dearest of little, tiiny, tiny—overflowing and fat— Sanguine? If I know you—which I do—I know you'll be the one to never say nay to them lost little souls like me. You—you— have your realms in the hundred of thousands, and, as I said, I'm bored—bored!—and I dare say my boredom has come to… well? Demand execution? I demand vacation. You must understand; it is so hard and exhausting to keep track of the Isles on my own—the work that is needed—the Isles is ever-demanding and ever-crazed—insanity in overabundance—or rather, not insane enough—and I only wish for a moment of your time—to revel in the distractions I so, sooo, very much am in need of—the life I live!—people have gone mad for less. If only for a while?"
"Ha! Well tried, I'm well aware of the implication of ¨a while¨ amongst us immortals! If you are to stay, rules need to be agreed upon first hand."
"Post haste then?! An agreement?—a pact? Oooh—a blood-treaty between brothers. A sacrificial bowl to fit your bowel. Of course. How about we make that the single most important subject of our first supper? So that, in case we disagree, I have at least been fed?"
"Agreed. I won't deny room for another guest at my table—mad as they may be."
"Brilliant! Utterly fantastic—oooh, the butterflies inside my belly!—where do I put my lard of bunnies? My coat of rags—my rags of coats—I need a place for them all—and my buttocks?! Oooh, my buttocks!—I can't sit down without my buttocks. And what of me old bones?—my weary old bones—I need a place to rest my old and weary bones!?"
"My plane holds enough chambers that I am sure we can find you your own."
"No need! A chest will do. Yee-big, yay-high. Any old box really. I mean, It's literally just a bag of old bones—I'll have Haskill bring them over shortly."