Four thousand and five hundred twenty-two views? Thanks, fellow Descole fans! Fun fact: The album Out Of Frequency by Asteroids Galaxy Tour inspired me to take the direction the story is going right now. Even if you can't see how the two come together, you should give the album a listen because it's really good!


PART ONE

[Read this in Descole's voice.]

In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters. And God said, Let there be light: and there was light.

But there was no God for this poor man.

[Stop reading in Descole's voice.]

Tied down to an uncomfortable wooden chair in a pitch dark room was a well-dressed bank clerk. His red suit was specifically designed to fit his ghastly long torso. A classy gold name tag was pinned to his chest. It read "RAMON."

"I've already told you everything I know! Please," he pleaded, "let me a hoo hoo go!"

"SILENCE!"

The fat man, who had arrived at the bank moments too late after it was robbed by Descole, accompanied Ramon in the dark room. He smacked the helpless bank clerk across the face, who let out a painful A-HOO!

"So what now, boss?" a henchmen in the back of the room spoke up. "Do we torture him with a puzzle?"

"No," their boss gritted while lighting his cigar. "That won't be necessary. We've gathered all the information we need. Let's go find this trouble making three year-old thirty-three-year-old."

Ramon struggled to free himself from his chair.

"Somebody please save me from these a-hoo-hoo-hooligans!"


PART TWO

"These fuckers have gone too far."

Descole crumpled up the twisted threat note with the disgusting lobster drawing into a waste bin. He grabbed his cape from the coat rack and draped it over his now non-virgin body.

"Thank you for the sex, Hershel, but I have to go."

"Descolay! Wait!"

Layton threw on his clothes and followed after the man he had just made passionate and sweaty love to. He wouldn't let the best thing that has ever happened to him just walk out the door.

Descole walked out the door, but felt a tug on the back of his cape, resulting in the entire thing sliding off.

"Please take me with you," cried Layton, choking back the tiniest tears you can imagine.

"No! It's far too dangerous! And besides, I couldn't stand to see your beautiful giant face get hurt."

Layton wasn't going to give up on those sweet French cheeks running and rubbing together in front of him. (Is this turning you on?)

"Whoever these people are, they know where you are, and now they know where I am too."

"Oh shit, you're right!" Descole now realized.

"And besides…" Layton put his hands in between Descole's legs and gently squeezed his testicles. "I'm madly in love with you."

In this story, grabbing ones testicles is merely a disgusting act but an intimate and effective way of saying I trust you. You are my whole life. Please stay with me forever, Jean Descole.

"All right, get in the carriage."

He shoved Layton into the carriage and ordered Jonathan to take them to his castle…but there was no response.

"OH MY GOD, THEY KILLED JONATHAN!"

"He's not dead," Layton verified, checking Jonathan's pulse. "He's sleeping. It's sleeping gas. The horses are asleep too."

"Damn those bastards! They know I don't know where my castle is!"

"Why don't you know where your castle is?"

Descole turned around and smirked, almost as if he was looking toward a camera.

"Because I was too busy poking you."

The same laugh track from chapters two and four played.

"Well, it looks like we're going to have to wait a few hours," said Layton, seductively removing his coat and turtleneck.

"Oh, thank God! He's awake!"

Descole picked up a bottle of Go-Go Juice from the bottom of his seat and poured it over Jonathan's face.

"Come on, Jonathan, get pumped!"

The Go-Go juice evaporated into Jonathan's beard like a sponge.

"Did you see who did this to you?"

"I'm afraid not, Master. I was too sleepy."

"Damn it, Jonathan! Let's wake up those horses and go home to my new super sweet castle."

As every carriage ride goes in this story, the ride was very long and very boring. Descole kept looking at his newfound love and joy, but mainly because Layton kept making suggestive gestures to get his attention. How cruel and unfair life is, to be given the best sex in the world and then to be wanted by mysterious thugs armed with sleeping gas the morning after. But so goes the awesome and tragic life of Jean Descole. Awesomely tragic. Tragically awesome. Awesome. Tragic. Descole.

"Master, we have arrived at your castle."

"SICK!"

Like an excited puppy dog that does not understand doors, Descole hopped out of the carriage window and face planted onto the front step. The dirt in his mouth tasted like royalty. He chewed on it satisfyingly.

As expected from a previous owner who thought he was a vampire, the castle that Descole and Jonathan had found on Craigslist was a beautiful historic 18th century classic, or at least it would have been a beautiful classic if it wasn't let to rot by a man who believed he would melt in sunlight. This only made it more attractive and "totally Pringles" to Descole.

"So how many stories does this castle have?" Descole asked Jonathan.

"Two-hundred, Master."

"Cool, I'm gonna have a shower."

There was only one bathroom in the entire two-hundred story castle. That was okay to Descole because it left plenty of space and water for the sea monkey aquarium he wanted so much.

He walked into the bathroom, smiling and thinking about sea monkeys, but got the shock of his life when he saw Layton already waiting for him, naked.

"Mind if I join you, Descolay?" he asked, holding up a phallus-shaped bottle of strawberries and cream shower gel. (Are you turned on now?)

"Uhh, one, where did you even find that and two, we'd be wasting water."

"Actually Descolay, we'd be saving water – "

"I SAID NO!"

Descole stole the shower gel from Layton's hands, pushed him out of the way and locked the door. Finally, a moment of peace and well-needed dude time.

The shower faucet was terribly rusted and creaky. With a few good kicks, Descole managed to turn the shower on.

Hundreds of spiders and bats poured out of the showerhead.

"That's what happens when you move in after a vampire."

He stepped into the tub, letting the hot water pour all over his tall, European physique. He opened up the lid of the phallus-shaped bottle and poured the gooey substance all over his body, scrubbing himself sensually as the water trickled down his back and to his buttocks, where the droplets took their fine time slowly glazing each cheek.

"This water is too hot."

He twisted the faucet to cold. His nipples perked up and hardened under the chilly water, like they could rip right through you.

"Brrr! Too cold!"

He twisted the faucet back to hot. His nipples softened back to normal, but now the boiling hot water caused his penis size to expand.

"Ow ow ow! Too hot!"

This time he twisted the faucet just a liiiiiiiitle bit in-between hold and cold. Now the hardness of his nipples balanced together with his penis size.

"Aaah, just right!"

(If that scene didn't turn you on then there's something terribly wrong with you.)

He walked out of the shower as a cleaned man.

In case you have forgotten throughout these past chapters showcasing the mature adult situations our hero has been through, Descole is still mentally a three year-old baby. As he was getting dressed, he sang the song his mother taught him to remember how to put on his clothes.

It's fun to be naked but it's more fun to be dressed

Go pick an outfit that suits you best

But please oh please do not wear that stupid cape

I'm serious, Jean, don't you put that fucking thing -

He sighed and stared at his reflection in the mirror.

"Too bad you never told me how to put on a suit, Mom."

"That was a cute song. For BABIES."

"Who the fuck?"

The mysterious mocking voice scared the heebie jeebies out of Descole, making him trip and lose balance. The last thing he saw before he fell face first into the toilet was a very short man in a super nice looking tuxedo.

"This is private property!" Descole's voice echoed from the toilet bowl. "You are not recognized as any type of authority!"

"My name is Bill Kill," said the little man, "and I've been sent to kill you, Jean Descole."

Descole giggled.

"That's a stupid name!"

"No it's not," said Bill Kill. "It's like the movie, but reversed."

"What movie?"

"Tisk, tisk," Bill Kill tisked and shook his head. "You really are just a baby after all. I know this because the movie was rated M, which suggests that you couldn't have seen the film because you're clearly a baby."

How does this little asshole know I'm actually a baby? Descole wondered to himself. Oh well, better come up with a comeback fast before he senses that I'm worried.

"I may be a baby, but at least I'm tall and handsome with a dick as big as your arm."

Bingo!

"Do you know why I'm an assassin, Mr. Descole?"

Descole shrugged.

"I don't fucking care."

"I took this job because the pay is good, and because when there is a murder, nobody ever expects a short person."

"That's the stupidest logic I've ever heard. Look, are you going to kill me, or are you going to keep talking? I'm not your fucking therapist."

Bill Kill pulled out a small, sharp instrument from a case in his pocket and leaned in close to Descole and the toilet.

"What I am holding right now is a syringe of powerful poison that the government hasn't even invented yet. One quick prick into the back of your neck, and your entire body will feel what can only be described as being eaten alive by a shark that just tried swallowing a hornet's nest that was set on fire and put out with a bucket of acid. The needle hole will be so tiny – "

"Like you," Descole interrupted.

Bill Kill sighed.

"I've killed one million people in my line of work and none of them were as sassy and annoying as you."

"Ha ha," said Descole.

"Anyway," the assassin went on, "the hole in the back of your neck will be so tiny that when the police come to investigate your death, everyone will just assume that you drowned in a toilet."

He held the needle one half of a centimeter away from Descole's neck and gently placed his finger over the top of the syringe, ready to kill.

"Any last words?" he mumbled into Descole's ear.

"Fuck you, I'm Jean Descole!"

"And now you die!"

"NOT TODAY MOTHERFUCKER!"

Layton busted through the door just in time and hit Bill Kill over the head with a steel pipe. (Nobody knows where Layton found the pipe.)

He stepped over the lifeless body on the floor and helped the still living Descole out of the toilet.

Descole spat a mouthful of toilet water in Layton's face.

"Dude," he said, wiping his mouth, "you just killed a guy named Bill Kill!"

"I had to kill Bill Kill! Bill Kill was going to kill you!"

"God, you're so fucking sexy!"

Descole passionately kissed Layton on the mouth, but accidentally threw up more toilet water. Hot.

"MASTER!"

Jonathan appeared in the doorway with such a worried look that his wide eyes could actually be seen underneath his thick eyebrows.

That's funny, thought Descole with his tongue still in Layton's mouth. I didn't hear Jonathan's footsteps running down the long castle hall. Maybe this is the literary term that they call "foreshadowing?"

"Master! Master's friend! Take these!"

Jonathan threw two rifles for Descole and Layton to catch.

"Do you even have a license for all these guns?" Descole asked, pulling off a sick jump and catching the gun with his feet.

"Now isn't the time to get a license! A mob of armed gangsters broke into the castle and are after you! We need to get out – "

Jonathan's warning was interrupted by a dozen loud gunshots. Layton had already killed ten men.

"H-how did you kill those men so easily?" Descole asked, highly impressed.

"It's easy," Layton spoke coldly as he reloaded. "I just think of the hardest tile puzzle that I've never solved."

"A duck of tiles," whispered Jonathan. He had remembered seeing the headline "FAMOUS ARCHEOLOGIST PROFESSOR HERSHEL LAYTON STUMPED BY PUZZLE GIVEN TO HIM BY LITTLE GIRL."

"A duck of tiles has taken everything from me, but now I have you, Descolay, and I won't let these cock suckers take you away too."

Layton turned and smiled at Descole, who was currently taking a piss.

A pang of guilt struck Descole's nerves. He stared at his reflection through the toilet water, thinking the words he could not say.

Hershel, my love, you say a duck of tiles took everything you had, and now you have me, but what you don't know is that I took away Thomas the tank engine.

He almost confessed right then and there, but thought better of it as Layton was holding a loaded gun and had already killed eleven people that day.

If Descole had not bent over just in time to flush the toilet, he would have been dead for more shots were fired from outside, all aimed at him. Unfortunately, the noise frightened him so that once again he fell face first into the toilet.

"You guys," he gurgled, "cover me!"

Jonathan threw a towel over Descole.

"NOT THAT KIND OF COVER!"

As the bodies piled up, D and company realized that they were digging their own graves and that soon they would be out of ammo. They had to find a way out of that bathroom.

"To the window!" Descole ordered.

Layton and Jonathan each took a foot and dragged Descole out of the toilet and in through the window. They successfully escaped onto the roof.

"Fuck, I forgot this was a two-hundred story castle. Now what?" Descole asked his companions.

"This was your idea, DES-CO-LAY!" Layton snapped.

"Shut up, Hershel! I'm gonna roll you up in blankets and cook you up like a burrito…huh?"

Descole's eye caught what looked like a killer ant party taking place thousands of feet below. He picked up a pair on binoculars lying on the roof and took a peek.

"Oh shit!"

The castle courtyard was swarmed with thugs armed with guns, bulldozers and cannonballs. The army seemed to be led by a huge, sinister looking mobster carrying a giant megaphone.

"Guys, don't look now, but take a look through these binoculars."

Descole chucked the binoculars behind them, waiting for Layton and Jonathan to each take a look.

"Good lord!" Layton gasped. "They're going to try to take the castle down!"

The large man turned on his megaphone. It made a loud shrilling screech that hurt Layton and Jonathan's ears. They cowered back with their hands covering their ears, but not Descole, because he was wearing those ridiculous dog ears that were almost completely soundproof. It wasn't a very genius outfit design, but Descole thought puppies were cute.

"Jean Descole, surrender now," the man's voice boomed through the megaphone.

Descole picked up his own giant megaphone also conveniently lying on the roof and said, "how about no?"

The thugs behind their leader covered their faces with their palms. They couldn't believe the sassometer reading coming from this bitch.

"This is your second to last warning, Mr. Descole. Give us the money that you robbed from the bank yesterday morning."

"YOU ROBBED THE BANK?" Layton screamed at Descole. The memory of watching Descole being chased by squad cars outside of the bank suddenly made sense to him.

"Uhh, yeah. Why else would somebody go to the bank?" Descole brought the megaphone back to his mouth and asked, "why can't you guys just rob a different bank?"

"Because that was our favorite bank!"

The thugs nodded their heads and cheered "yeah!" in response to their boss's answer.

"This is your last chance. Give us the money or we won't destroy your new castle."

Descole closed his eyes to assess the situation at hand. The wannabe vampire that he had inherited the castle from sold it to him for free, so the castle funds he had robbed were no longer a necessity. It still was a large amount of money, however. He could purchase thousands of lasers and personal pizzas, or lasers that can turn anything into personal pizzas. And then on the other side of the spectrum were the fate of his two friends. Hershel Layton, the man he fell in love and slept with, and Jonathan, the man who "sort of kind of" saved his life, were destined to die if he refused to surrender. Descole took a deep breath and said into the megaphone,

"I'm still not giving you the money."

The large man snapped his fingers and yelled, "TEAR IT DOWN, BOYS!"

The bulldozers drove into the front of the building and the cannonballs were set into place.

"DESCOLAY, YOU ARE A HORRIBLE PERSON!" Layton shouted and slapped Descole across the face.

"He's not horrible," said Jonathan, "he's just misunderstood!"

"Shut up, Jonathan!" Descole slapped Jonathan's face. "I have an idea."

Descole led the others to the back of the castle, miraculously dodging cannonballs and hopping over the smoky debris.

"Hershel, Jonathan. How much ammo do you two have left?"

"None," answered Layton. "I thought I saw a bird carrying a hint coin."

"I still have ammo, Master!"

Jonathan rolled his sleeves up and his socks down, revealing eight rifles taped to his arms and legs.

"Jonathan, I know you were hardcore!"

Descole raised his hand in the air, expecting a high-five from his senile butler. There was no response.

"Are we going to kill more people?" Layton asked with a thirst for blood.

"Wow, I didn't know that my boyfriend was a fucking psycho. No, we're going to escape."

"But how, Descolay? We're thousands of feet above the ground and in a few minutes this entire building will be rubbish!"

"Don't doubt me, Hershel!" Descole growled. (Descole literally growls when he his angry because he believes that he is part wolf.) "Now listen up! Both of you hold onto me, and when I jump – "

"JUMP?! Are you out of your bloody fucking mind?!" Layton shouted hysterically. (It is a well-known scientific fact that all British people say "bloody" when they are in shock.)

"Fuck you and listen to me!" Descole snarled through his teeth. He was in full mother wolf mode. "I hate to admit it, but I weigh less than a feather. In fact, it's pretty fucking difficult walking around with this stupid feathered boa all the time, but it makes me look irresistible."

"Amen!"

"Thank you, Jonathan. So when I jump, you two shoot the hell out of those rifles. Hopefully the recoil from the shots will keep us from falling to our deaths. Now on the count of three. One…"

Layton gulped.

"Two…"

Jonathan pulled out his rosary and prayed.

"Three. NOW SHOOT, MOTHERFUCKERS!"

Without hesitating or shitting around, Descole hopped off the roof and stretched out his cape. Layton and Jonathan did as they were told and shot their rifles, keeping them afloat.

"Wow, Descolay!" Layton yelled over the gunshots. "I didn't know you could fly! I'm kind of turned on right now to be honest!"

"Of course I can fly! I'm Jean Descole!"

The sight was beautiful, even to the unknowing gangsters below, who took a moment to stop destroying things and to watch what one of them described as "a glorious swan-like falcon soaring through the clouds like a god damn angel."

"Going down!" Descole shouted as they glided closer and closer to the surface. "Ha ha! I said 'going down.'"

They landed roughly, but safely, into a hedge of bushes.

"Is everybody okay?" Descole asked with an unusual hint of politeness in his tone. "If anybody's hurt, it's not my fault – OH MY GOD, JONATHAN! WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR FACE?!"

"I'm all right, Master! My beard is just camouflaging through these bushes."

"Thank God!" Descole sighed in relief. "I like your beard. It fits you very well, and it distracts from how freakishly long your face is."

"Thank you, Master."

Descole would never have noticed, but a small tear dropped and landed onto Jonathan's beard. It was the first time in the two days that they knew each other that he'd received an honest and genuine comment from Descole.

"And how about your freakishly abnormal face?" Descole walked over to Layton, who was currently trying to solve a hidden puzzle that he had found in the bushes.

"I'm fine! But Descolay," Layton turned around 180 and went into full sexual mode, "have you ever wondered what it would be like to do it in the sky?"

Descole stared speechless at Layton, half aroused and half confused, until he remembered something crucial.

"Oh shit! What about the carriage?"

"Oh, those poor ponies!" Layton whined.

"No, not the horses, you dumbass! The money's in the carriage!"

"Do not worry about the carriage, Master. Just as the kids like to say these days, I 'got this.'"

Plucking a blade of grass off the ground and putting it between his lips, Jonathan whistled a merry tune. Soon enough, the sounds of hooves and neighing could be heard coming from the distance.

"Can I just say that was the gayest and simultaneously coolest thing I've ever seen?" Descole marveled in awe.

The horses came to a halt in front of Descole and his party, and inside the carriage were still the sacks of money and bottles of Go-Go Juice.

"What are you going to do with all that cash, Descolay?" Layton asked.

"I don't know," he shrugged. "Probably buy another castle."

"Well if you don't mind, I'd like to go home to pack my things and have a cup of tea."

"Pack your things?" Descole wondered. "What for? Are you leaving me for a woman?!"

"I'm packing my things to move in with you, of course!"

"I never said you could – " Descole paused and thought about it for a moment. "I guess there's enough room in my castle for three."

"Well there's going to have to be room for four, because I'm not ditching Luke like his dad did to him."

"Okay, but just because I put my thingaling up your butt doesn't make me the one in charge of poopy diapers."

Descole waited for a laugh track, but it never came because that was a terrible line.