The Story of Mortimer Khan: Manager of McDonalds

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The Story of Mortimer Khan: Manager of McDonalds
Post by Pester on Jan 18, 2007, 3:15pm

The silhouette of an eight foot tall humanoid stands between the gates of Hell and a portal to Earth. The light hits his dark blue body in such a way that you can't tell whether he is looking toward Hell longingly, or determined toward Earth.

He takes one unsure step toward the portal and then he falters. Unsure of himself, he stands up again and continues on, stronger than before.

Years earlier. The setting is Hell.

A small bundle is being gingerly carried through the dank, dark halls of Hades General Hospital. The ghoul carrying the bundle, a slimy green mess of tendons, is clearly not one that enjoys his job. Sent to Hell for the sin of telemarketing, he was only delivering this package for the promise of having his sentence in Hell reduced by the lord of darkness himself. Looking down at the dark blue creature in his hands, he couldn't help but notice how… round the thing looked. Aside from it's pointy ears it didn't have any distinguishing horns or fangs with which to horribly maim. In fact, the ghoul thought, it almost looked friendly.

With that final thought, the ghoul found itself hanging upside down by his ankles over a pit of sad clowns and slowly descending. He sighs in disappointment as he realizes that just thinking that a son of Mephisto was anything but a horrific killing machine was grounds for horrible punishment. Really though, he shouldn't have been surprised; it is Mephisto after all.

Back at the hospital, Mephisto was mired in his own insecurity. His last "son," Blackheart was an inspired creation to be sure, but he would never be fit to rule over Hell, at least not while he was so preoccupied by one-upping his father. Perhaps, Mephisto pondered, the method he used to bring Blackheart into existence was too heavily inspired by hate and fear. Being the product of murders and rape would make any demon a little screwy, and Blackheart was no exception; that was no way for a prince of the Underworld to act. Mephisto decided to make another attempt using a different act, one that would result in a more focused demon.

As most good ideas do, this came to Mephisto while he was on the toilet. A story about corporate greed was all he needed to get motivated again. He shouted in joy when he read the headline for the subject of his next plan: "CEO of TenderSoft Inc. indited on fraud charges." The lord of Hell giggled in glee as he read the story about how an executive for one of the most powerful corporations in the world ruined thousands of lives through insider trading. In a stroke of what he thought was sheer genius, he spent the next few months harnessing the greed, envy, and frustration of all those poor souls that lost their livelihood from this crime. And to put the cherry on the cake, he grabbed as much ambition from the CEO as he could before the greedy bastard was shanked by one of the more frustrated inmates. And with this, the latest son of Mephisto was born.

Taking the child in his arms, he looks at it with something that could be called disappointment. It was blue, bald all over, had a larger head than it should, and couldn't have weighed more than 85 lbs. Mephisto checked it all over for any hidden claws, fangs, maybe some kind of a proton disruptor, but could only find a pointy tail. The time had come to face facts: This thing was adorable.

No matter. Surely the natural weapons would come along with ferocity, and no spawn of Mephisto could ever be accused of lacking ferocity. "Maybe the kid will learn to spit fire or something," Mephisto tried to convince himself.


"Mortimer! Mortimer! Get over here now!"

The young blue figure shuffled his way over to his father, not looking forward to the incoming trouble.

"Yeth father?"

"Dammit Mortimer!" Mephisto shouted. "What did I tell you about playing with my victims?"
Mortimer looks down at the ground, dejected. He mumbled something incoherently.

"I can't hear you son…"

In a louder voice, the boy replied, "You thaid to only play with them if I'll rend upon them horrible torment…"

"And what did you do instead?"

"I… I thet them free…"

"That's right, you set them free. Now my minions have to scour the Underworld searching for them. Do you know what that means? That means I have less torture time for not only the victims, but I could also be torturing the minions I sent out searching for them."

Upon hearing this, Mortimer looks unaffected, almost rebellious even. Noting this, Mephisto kneels down to the level of his son.

"My boy, have I ever told you what your name means?"

At the sudden change in topic the boy looked up at his father, confused. "No, I don't think so."

"Mortimer Flankshaft was the dread ruler of the planet Omikron Perseii 8, and he ruled that planet with an iron fist. This iron fist was drenched in the blood of it's populace. He ruled using fear and controlled using pain. His subjects were the unhappiest lot I've seen in all my years, which made them too dejected to rebel against him. Mortimer held enough power to keep the entire planet under his firm grasp until his eventual downfall to a roving band of space tuna… Anyway, my point is this:" He puts a firm hand on his son's shoulder. "One day when you rule, I want you to model your rule after mine, just like I model mine after Flankshaft."

The child looked up at his father. "But why? Why rule at all? Why dothe it have to be me?"

"Since the beginning of all things, our family line has been the bane of all existence," he stated, starting to get that nostalgic gleam in his terrible eyes. "Just like I created you and your brother and sisters, your grandpa Infiniti created me to govern the dead that are sent here. You see, if I don't make these people suffer"
"
If I don't make thethe people thuffer, Hell would not be unpleathant, and humanth would treat each other badly, you've already told me thith."

Mephisto chuckled. Perhaps the boy was listening for all those years. "Then you remember your destiny. I created you to uphold my principles and to reign as the rightful ruler of Hell. This is not a responsibility you can just cast aside like so many sinful babies, it is what you were born to do."

"But Father, I don't want to run Hell. I don't want to torture bad people, even if it ith to improve thingth for the living. Thomehow it feelth…" The boy's eyes wander over to a particularly sadistic looking punishment involving hungry mimes condemned to eating soup with their own imaginary spoons. "It feelth wrong… Do you really have to enjoy it tho much?"

"Khan, why do a job if you don't love it, revel in it, live and breath it? Son, I'm not a bad guy. I merely get off on the unending horror and pain of others. I did not choose to be the keeper of the Underworld, it chose me, and I did not choose to gain sadistic satisfaction from the infinite screams of the forgotten dead. Someday all this is going to be yours and you will understand why I do these things. I only ask that you try to understand."

"I will do my betht, Father." the boy replied in his meloncholly voice.

"That's all I ask."


"Father! Father I have great newth, I—"

"Good evening, brother. I see the years have left you successful in your machinations as Daddy's lapdog."

Mortimer was surprised to see his sister sprawled out across Mephisto's throne. "Mephithta?. Where ith Father? And what are you doing in hith theat? You know you're not thuppothed to be here."

Looking almost hurt, she replied "It's Mephista… my darling brother, and is it so wrong that I want to spend time with my little sibling-spawn?" She didn't bother answering his first question, instead choosing to release a drawn out yawn.

Mortimer was taken aback by this. "It ith not wrong… It ith out of character for you, though."

"You can think of it as me making up for lost time then. Maybe I just want to see how the homestead is holding up under the old demon's rule. So? How's everything?" The slender red demon asked with baited breath.

Khan knew he should be suspicious, but he didn't have the presence of mind to act on it. "Thingth are going well around here." He couldn't help but look distracted. It was clear that he wanted to speak to his father about something, but was only sticking around as a politeness to his sister.

"Going well? Well then why so troubled, dear?" With a sinister grin, Mephista realized her goal would be easier than she thought.

"Me?" He replied, with a naive hope to keep his troubles to himself. "No, I'm not troubled… Jutht hopeful I thuppothe." He clearly didn't want to talk about his issues with the prodigal daughter. So she pressed further.

"Oh… I see…" She lowers her eyes to the floor and begins dejectedly fumbling with her tail. "Well if you don't want to talk to me, Daddy told me he'd be back in a few days. I suppose you can keep it bottled up until he comes back, Mortimer."

He thought about this. It's possible she is being sincere and just wants to bond. Maybe she can even help him with his problem.

This, she wasn't expecting. "You? How? I didn't think you were one to go through the ceremonies required to pass freely between the worlds."

"I thimply harnethed the powerth of the Athtral Plane. It wath jutht taking up spathe in Father'th clothet."

Just getting to the Astral Plane was difficult enough for her, let alone using it to view other dimensions. Impressive. Maybe he's not the moron she thought he was…

"Do go on Brother, what did you see in these creatures?" Her tone of voice sounds like she was speaking of an ant colony.

At this, he gets wide eyed and excited. "I thaw thethe humanth doing what they loved. They'd figure out thomething they wanted to do, and they'd work for it. Thome of them win, thome of them lothe, but they came out of it thtronger for their trouble." He takes on a slightly darker tone, and seems to be looking past her entirely.

"Then you remember that you'll one day rule over all Hell, and you didn't have to lift a finger to get it. And if you were to leave, Father would consider you a failure just like Blackheart."

He's suddenly surprised out of his daydream. "Hmm? Truly, I am grateful for my birth. I would not betray Father by abandoning my birthright," he said with a heavy sigh.

"Then there's nothing more to think about. One day you will rule over all this, and those piddling humans will go about their little lives. You'll have rule over all of Hell without having to work for any of it. Isn't that…" He finds that she is suddenly inches from his ear. "…Everything you could possibly desire?"

"I thuppothe…"

"It must be, or otherwise you'd already have thought up a way to change your destiny."

With this she begins walking down the hall and away from him, eventually coming to a portal she opens for herself. Before she steps in, she calls back to him. "That's why you'll make a good ruler. You'll sacrifice what makes you happy just to serve Father and everyone else. That's what makes you noble, suffering…" Stepping through the portal, she enters a place far from Mortimer and his self doubt. "…predictable."

A pair of white eyes glow in the darkness that envelops her. "Don't speak ill of the boy for doing what is in his best interests…" Blackheart staggers from the shadows. He clearly just took a beating, and she clearly doesn't particularly care.

"I see you were able to keep our father at bay. I didn't expect you to last long enough for me to convince the boy."

"I presume you were able to convince our brother to follow his petty little ambitions…" He speaks this as he forms a seat from dark matter and rests his battered body.

"Presume what you like if it makes you feel better about the beating our father gave you," she responds condescendingly.

With that, his eyes narrow into slits. "Were it not for me, you could have recieved that beating yourself…"

"Perhaps you should learn something about finesse before complaining about your role." With that, she opens up a gateway to her private domain. "You should rest up and heal your wounds Blackheart. Khan has all but given up his place in the kingdom by now, all we have to do is wait for him to make it official." She leaves him alone with his power hungry machinations.



Re: The Story of Mortimer Khan: Manager of McDonal
Post by Marisol Morales on Jan 18, 2007, 3:26pm

…okay. That was…uh…unique. <_<;

And why does the name 'Mortimer Khan' sound so familiar?


Re: The Story of Mortimer Khan: Manager of McDonal
Post by Last Hero on Jan 18, 2007, 3:29pm

Warped, but funny as hell. This story actually should probably go in one of the NM folders.


Re: The Story of Mortimer Khan: Manager of McDonal
Post by Orchestra the Mighty on Jan 18, 2007, 3:57pm

Heh. Never expected to see the Mickey D's guy again, but now I'm glad I have.


Re: The Story of Mortimer Khan: Manager of McDonal
Post by Alexander "Cadmus" Baptiste on Jan 18, 2007, 5:57pm

;D Awesome.


Re: The Story of Mortimer Khan: Manager of McDonal
Post by Protoman on Jan 18, 2007, 10:57pm

I love the Futurama referance in there, and now I feel like an ass hole for messing with such a nice guy.


Re: The Story of Mortimer Khan: Manager of McDonal
Post by Pester on Jan 19, 2007, 1:09pm

I think I'm ripping off Hamlet.


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