M, the Conquerer

“The clock strikes twelve……”

“Mhm… whatever you say, friend…”

“Interesting…”

“Watcha thinkin’ ‘bout there, friend?”

“…” [He’d pace around for a second, inhaling, exhaling, the works. He’d finally glance up at Parasite after a long second.] “I don’t even know if I’m mad or just numb to anything you do anymore.”

“Whenever you ask questions, I know something either stupid, destructive, or some unholy combination of both will occur against my will.”

“Dude.”

“If anyone sees an image about his posture, just know that it is not photoshopped and is real.” “He does stand like that.”

“There’s been a big bug hovering around outside my castle taking pictures of people. Somehow not the strangest thing to happen today.”

“Trash bin? Who said anything about a trash bin.”

“Oh, well I was indeed much bigger than this.” “Unfortunately a c e r t a i n jester caught me in the crossfire of his explosion, and now, here we are.” “ialsosaiddontbringupthetrashbinincident…”

“It took some time, a lot of cleaning, a few Benadryls and some divorce papers but the castle has been fixed.” “…” “We don’t speak of the incident a couple of days ago.” “There was no trash bin, there was no people in it, you are just crazy.”

[His only response (if you could call it that) was to give Parasite a single middle finger, before he flopped back down quite pathetically.]

“Rgrgrgrhhhh… thanks…”

[His only response to the suggestion was a long, drawn out “eeeeeeeghhhh,” before he falls back over. It’s just been one of those days.]

“Aurghhhh, hangover…” “Someone shut off the sun for a bit…” “breghhhhhhhh…”

“Check your pocket, king.”

“This was the only way to heal.”