[Nepharski]

It began to rain outside, not that anyone would have noticed. Still, the vibrations of the pitter pats on the ground added to the discomfort of the situation. Virgil began tapping his mechanical foot impatiently, and tried to recall where he had left off on his sonnet. His musings, however, we interrupted yet again by his leering audience.

Virgil had always been, well, different from most other Sligs. In a populous with a surplus of deadbeat losers, Virgil was, at the very least, an intelligent loser. He named himself Virgil. He thought it fit quite nicely (Better than the, “names,” offered up by his peers, anyway). Moving right along, Virgil had always felt less than stellar in his environs of iron and corruption. It wasn’t that he minded these things. On the contrary, he was aptly fit and suited to play at Magog politics, and play well. He was bored. Uninterested. Depressed. Cynical. He was suffering from a prolonged mid-life crisis, shall we say? Some who suffer buy sports cars. Others loose their minds.

Virgil plotted the downfall of the Magog itself.

It had started as a pet project, really. A little chaos here, monetary depression over here, screw with the bank in the middle, etc. But it soon grew to a time consuming task. There were corporations to ruin and politicians to blackmail, and the day wasn’t getting any longer. It wasn’t that Virgil cared, but rather that he didn’t. He was so fed up with the insideous, monotonous world around him, the he decided to destroy it all just for a change of pace. Make things interesting again.

Virgil had no idea just how interesting things would become.

“Virgil the Slig,” rumbled a deep throated Glukkon, “You have been found most disgustingly guilty of treason against the crown, the corporations, and the almighty dollar!” A group of robbed Glukkon priests (Read: Zealous bankers) in the back nodded their heads and murmured strange things at this. “However, despite the instantaneous gratification and high rating potential, we have elected not to have you shot. In fact, we have decided not to have you directly killed at all.” At this, one of the executioners ran from the hall in tears, and across the city many a television was switched off in disgust (“No violence? Then what good is it!?”). Still, the Glukkon continued in his impressively deep voice. “Instead…you are to be banished.”

“Banished?” Virgil raised a makeshift eyebrow at the judges. “That’s it? No torture? No water in the face? No 50 lashes with a whip? Good Odd, and you call yourselves masters of justice? Whatever is the world coming to?”

“SILENCE!” Cried an older Glukkon on the side. Virgil stopped. “Jackass,” muttered the old judge, and he nodded for the deep throated Glukkon to continue. He turned and looked Virgil straight in the eyes. “You have been banished to the outer Jungles of Morica in the desert to the south, where you are to spend the rest of your pathetic, worthless days. Remove his pants.” The BigBro stepped forwards and ruthlessly yanked off Virgil’s mechanical feet, and crushed them between his fingers, into a tin can. Virgil flopped uncomfortably onto the ground. “Now foul shmuck…begone!”
A trapdoor opened up under Virgil, and he was sucked down an iron well. The courtroom soon pasted from all vision and thought. Virgil was mildly annoyed by the whole situation, which I think is only fair. He could see nothing as he zoomed at top speed down some forgotten pipe to some Oddawful wasteland someplace. He shuddered and tried to remember, again, where he had left off on his ballad. Unfortunately, when whizzing through an underground hole faster than could possibly be measured to God only knows what destination, remembering the melody you were previously working on is often tragically missing from the list of things one is able to do to pass the time.

Eventually, the tube leveled out, and Virgil was shot out and into a shallow pool. He sluggishly tried to right himself, but turned only in time to see the portal cap close. Written on in, in graffiti as it would seem, we’re the words, “Screw you slacker!” He sighed, and turned to face his new home…the jungle.

To Be Continued…