Please pardon my recent absence, I have been EXTREMELY busy with finals and college stuff, but I’m finally done! Well not entirely with college, I still need one or two things there, but it’s as good as ready (OPTIMISM). I was planning on publishing Joanne Pt. 3 today, and I did get into it a reasonable amount, but it simply isn’t ready yet, and it isn’t going to be today, so instead I’m presenting you guys to one of my favorite OCs- Emperor Meep! I actually have reasonable amount of content on this fellow, and his story is meant to be fun, so I hope you enjoy part one! Please let me know what you think.
Much lobe (as in earlobe),
P.S.- I’m strongly considering not publishing my full stories to this blog, and just leaving you guys with bits and pieces to torture you 🙂 Just kidding, I would do so in order to see which stories you actually care about, if any.
A fellow, starting his forties, tripped through the middle of a town square, somehow continually crashing into pigeons which he continued to accidentally scare into flight, and occasionally crashing into a few unaware individuals. A good amount of hair had fled his head, perhaps migrating south for the rest of time, and only a few scraggly hairs remained, brushed across on the top of his head. He had spilled his coffee over his dress-shirt and had stepped on his escaped glasses, cracking one of the lenses, before he finally tripped through the doors of his office building, into the elevator, and into his cubicle. This was probably his favorite space in the world, completely empty except for a four-legged chair, a table embedded into the wall of the cubicle, and an ancient computer that Queen Victoria probably found offensively outdated. He was just about to begin counting to determine if the sale of rubber-bands had been profitable that month, when a ruckus erupted from down the hall- the sound of yelling, struggling, scuttling feet, and falling papers. Sure that a tornado had finally followed him into his office building, our guy hid under his desk, but was surprised when a dozen men with suits and shiny pins came into his cubicle, instead of a natural disaster.
“Ah, your majesty!” began a suited man with particularily gelled back hair and a particularily long but lumpy nose. The suited man continued to speak, “My name is Mr. Faffington, at your…” The man stopped for a moment, his wide smile freezing but his eyebrows stating confusion- “Why… Why are you hiding under a table?” Our guy just stared back blankly from under his table.
“Of course, of course, you have no idea what this is all about. Here, take this royal memo from your late brother.”
Mr. Faffington began to take out a piece of paper from his inner suit pocket, and then our guy spoke-
“Brother? Excuse me, but I don’t have a brother-”
“Oh you don’t anymore, he’s not quite with us anymore, but he used to be! Now trust me and read the memo,” Mr. Faffington smiled and placed a gold leaf paper into the hands of our guy, who began crawling out from the table.
It read as follows:
Royal Will of Emperor Charles Fancington The Third, Part MMMDCCCLXXXVIII
In Regards to My Banished Brother ~
After war has been declared on the foreign nations of England, Germany, the United States, France, Africa, Russia, China, and maybe Japan if it’s sunny out, please retrieve my brother, which can be found under the name Eugene Larson, in a grimy little village called Alphingtonville in Ohio, of the United States.
He is to be instituted immediately as the new Emperor of Marharington, and his name changed to Eugene Meep, because it’ll be a laugh to anyone he introduces himself to. Anyone who does not acknowledge him as Eugene Meep when his name is stated in full shall, without a trial, be charged guilty of high treason, with the death penalty as punishment.
Also, I guess you can introduce him to his soon-to-be wife and child.
After having read the memo once, our guy- er- Emperor Eugene Meep- went back to the top to read it again, before another of the men in the suits ripped it from his hands. Mr. Faffington continued now- “As everything must now clear to you, we’ll need you to come this us right away, after all, your nation is currently under siege.”
And so, a speechless Emperor Eugene Meep was dragged from his cubicle and unto a plane, as large as a commercial yet, but still private, enroute to the island-nation of Marharington.
As the plane lifted off, Emperor Meep was chained to the most comfortable chair known to man, facing towards the front of the plane. He continued to look around from face to face, mouth agape, completely baffled, partially by his current predicament and partially by the unearthly comfort of his chair. The suited men, seated perpendicular to Emperor Meep, along the walls of plane, avoided his seeking gaze, until one accidentally met Meep’s eye for a split and second, and quickly looked away.
“Hey,” Meep called out to him. The young man looked up and down as if heavily distracted by the carpet and the sloped roof. “Excuse me? Hello? Sir?” The man suddenly and inexplicably fell asleep, snoring loudly.
Now Emperor Meep became truly annoyed, and so, he proceeded to yell at the man so loudly, everybody in the cabin turned to look at him.
“Will somebody tell me what in God’s name is going on?”
With this, as well as with several fearful shoves from the men around him, the man rose from his seat and slowly edged towards Emperor Meep, stopping two or three meters away from him.
“Look, I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m not your king. Trust me- I’ve never had a brother and I’ve never even kissed a lady, and for sure never had a child. My parents are Maybie and Reynald Larson, I was born in Alphingtonville, Ohio. I’ve never even heard of Marharington. Look, even if I was your King, I won’t do you any good- I trip over myself every day, I’m a magnet to projectiles- every day I manage to spill coffee on my shirt, to the point all of my shirts have a coffee stain-”
“My apologizes your majesty, let me get you a new shirt right aw-”
“No! You’re missing the point! I’m not your King! I’m not fit for it! Get me off this insane plane and back to Alphingtonville, so I can count my damned numbers!”
The suited man fidgeted nervously, emitting a few whining noises occasionally, failing to respond to Emperor Meep. After a few moments, another suited man cautiously rose from his chair with a smartphone in hand. He was a handsome man with a long nose, his gelled hair brushed elegantly sideways, and clean shaven.
“Er- well, excuse me Sir, maybe this will shed some light on your kingliness.”
The man extended the phone toward Meep, holding it for him as he begin to read from what looked like a history site.
The Marharington Daily News
Emperor Charles II Tries To Bake Son Into A Donut
December 1st, 1977
By Arnstjay Tewpid
“I was bored, and I thought perhaps it would be a laugh if the squealing nugget made a good donut.” chuckled Emperor Charles Fancington the Second as he munched on a chocolate covered donut from the famous Marharington bakery known as ‘Fancing-Donut.’ After offering everybody in the vicinity a donut, and then snatching it back before anyone could take a bite, he continued, “[Queen Lizaria] truly overreacted, it’s not like we don’t already have spawn. I mean, do we really need another one?”
After the brutal attempted murder by the Emperor, the nation’s new prince was shipped away by Queen Lizaria to a foreign land known as Oosa, in order to live safe from death by confection. Queen Lizaria has sworn to keep his location and new identity secret until she knows that he is safe from the Emperor’s bakery.
To this, the first prince, Charles the Third, currently nine years old, commented, “Sweet whiskers mate, bring me more donuts servant!”
The article ended there, at which Emperor Meep looked up the suited man with a flabbergasted expression, at which the man took back the phone, tapped here and there, and presented it to Emperor Meep once more, this time showing a modern news site.
The Marharington Daily News
The Secrets of Charles II, Revealed
January 22nd, 2013
By Arnstjay Tewpid
At 3:33 a.m. yesterday, twenty-four hours after the death of Emperor Charles Fancington the Second, his wife, Queen Lizaria, released a collection of compromising articles of data from throughout the reign of her late husband. In the collection, the public was informed of Charles II’s obsession with duck-human hybrids, his successful time-travel program, the kidnapping of the world’s most talented scientists for said program, as well as the lost prince of Marharington’s new name and location in the far-off land of Oosa, among a plethora of other pieces of information. However, of all these revelations, the one sparking the most controversy amongst the people of Marharington is the revelation that late Emperor Charles the Second was behind the public termination of the famous Twinkie brand, actually buying the business for his own personal enjoyment.
“The people are outraged mate,” said a local Marharington youth, “my pop and his buddies are planning a full fledged rebellion, and I don’t blame him. Nobody takes away our twinkies mate, NOBODY.”
Talk of what the people are calling “The Twinkie Rebellion” is blazing in the streets, but only time will tell if the new Emperor will be able to handle the uproar. “You can all kiss my royal posterior, the Twinkies are all mine, greedy mongrels,” replied the newly-crowned Emperor Charles the Third when asked about the matter.
The article ended there, at which Emperor Meep looked up the suited man and squealed, “What in God’s name are you showing me?”
“Pardon me your Majesty, there is one more article I believe necessary to allow the truth to dawn upon you.”
The Marharington Daily News
Emperor Charles III Meets A Grizzly Death
December 22nd, 2016
By Arnstjay Tewpid
“It hurt,” commented late Emperor Charles Fancington the Third on his recent, tragic death. “I was deep in the Marharington Jungle, hunting the endangered tiger-grizzly bear, which is very rare, when it came up behind me, and killed me with one slash. I’m dead, right now. I wish I wasn’t but I am. I’m DEAD, dead people DON’T. TALK. I left a WILL, go A-WAY!”
At 4:44 a.m. on Tuesday, the public was informed that Emperor Charles the Third had passed away after being attacked by the last tiger-grizzly in existence. Emperor Charles Fancington the Third, first son of Emperor Charles Fancington the Second and Queen Lizaria Fancington, both deceased, was born on October 2nd, 1968 in Marharingtontropolis, Marharington, the capital of Marharington. He was an active speaker for royal rights, primarily divine right, and was responsible for the passing of various laws in favor of royalty, the most infamously popular being the Marharington Law of Twinkie Sanctions. His motto, “Screw the peasants, long live the King,” was adopted by tyrants and dictators, everywhere.
Consequently after his death, the remaining Fancington family members were gathered to determine who is next in line to be Emperor, during which the last will and testament of Emperor Charles the Third ensured the immediate institution of Eugene Larson, the lost prince of Marharington, as Emperor. Emperor Larson will be retrieved from the foreign nation of Oosa and will begin his reign over Marharington. In the meantime, the soon-to-be Queen Aurelia will be temporarily taking limited control of the throne. Emperor Meep currently will have to deal with the beginning of World War III as set forth by late Emperor Charles the Third as well as the ongoing Twinkie Rebellion, but he has his wedding with Princess Aurelia of prehistoric Marharington to look forward to.
“You people have truly lost your marbles, I mean, prehistoric? My wedding? Oosa? Tiger-Grizzly? A dead man being interviewed about his death? A WEDDING? Eugene Larson? EMPEROR?” Emperor Meep paused for a moment, a fortune of thoughts running through his head. “Oh my dear lord. That man, Mr. Tewpid, didn’t call me Meep? He isn’t going to be put to death is he?”
Mr. Faffington leaned over from the end of the cabin, and called out brightly, “Actually your Majesty, it’s Mrs. Tewpid, and she is probably on her way to the electric couch as we speak. The law protects us, eh? Law is a splendid thing, isn’t it?” He let out a hearty chuckle and leaned back unto his chair.
“Oh my goodness. You truly are lunatics.” Emperor Meep went completely white, and struggled against the chains over him in his chair. “Let me out at once! I demand you, you, what is your name?,” Emperor Meep spoke to the man who had shown him the articles from Marharington.
“My name is Mr. Solagon, but your majes-”
“Don’t your majesty me, let me loose this instant!”
“I can’t, I don’t have the keys!”
“Well who does?”
Mr. Faffington had dashed from his chair to stand directly next to Mr. Solagon- “Well that would be me your majesty, but I’m sorry to say Emperor Charles forbid me from removing your chains until your arrival in Marharington.”
“Isn’t Emperor Charles dead?”
“Well slightly, but law is law.”
“Until it is replaced by new law, correct?”
“Well, maybe, but look your majes-”
“As your new Emperor, I demand you to free me from these chains at once.”
Mr. Faffington went mute, moving his mouth as if attempting to form words, but unable to decide what words choose, his hands cycling sporadically between opening and closing alongside his mouth. He was reminiscent of a fish out of water, but in slower motion.
Emperor Meep spoke once more, “Or you’re fired.”
Mr. Faffington looked sideways to Mr. Solagon, and softly asked, “Can he do that yet?”
Mr. Solagon replied, “I believe so, yes.”
At this Mr. Faffington smiled widely, and clasped his hands together, “Of course I’ll unchain you my handsome and intelligent Emperor, pardon my pause, you know how complicated politics are, please excuse my-”
Emperor Meep shook the chains off as Mr. Faffington unlocked him, and stood- “Which is the front?”
Mr. Solagon pointed behind him, and Emperor Meep began to march, but his foot became stuck in the chains which had fallen on the floor, and he slammed face first to the floor. Mr. Faffington continued to jabber, and Mr. Solagon picked Meep up.
After a march through several rooms filled with suited men, Emperor Meep finally reached the navigation cabin.
“What are you planning to do your majesty?” Mr. Solagon asked him.
“We’re going to save Mrs. Tewpid, whoever she is, from your late lunatic Emperor,” responded Emperor Meep, marching toward the captain dutifully.
“You’re not going to leave us?”
“Not yet, but soon after this! I need you to call whoever you need to in order to stop Mrs. Tewpid’s death, and then I need you to turn this plane around.”
“Er- pardon me your majesty, but the Marharington government doesn’t use phones or computers or most types of modern technology.”
“What?! How!? What are you talking about?”
“Well, if you want to call the police you have to send a bird. The Charleses didn’t invest any money into the application of new technology,” replied Mr. Solagon, “I bought mine after saving Marhars for a few years.”
Mr. Faffington, who had caught up after jabbering a few cabins behind, added enthusiastically, “But look! We have pins! Look, they’re- er- interactive!”
He gestured toward a pin on his suit jacket, which portrayed a smaller, silver version of Emperor Charles the Third, and pressed the crown, to which the pin said, “Screw the peasants, long live the King!” and then made a sound reminiscent of Tarzan’s yell.
Smiling Mr. Faffington looked to Emperor Meep expecting him to break down in amazement, while Mr. Solagon looked Mr. Faffington the with a completely blank expression, and Emperor Meep looked at him as one would perhaps look at a lump of ice-cream mating with a snail.
After a moment, Emperor Meep interrupted and asked Mr. Solagon, “Where are criminals of her degree kept before their… execution?”
“In Darharmlarbazar Prison, on a smaller island off the coast of Darharmlarbazar,” replied Mr. Solagon.
“I need you to call the police and- damn, no- I need you to- why is this happening again?”
Mr. Solagon interjected, “You need the pilot to fly as close to Darharmlarbazar Prison as possible?”
“Yes that, do that!”
The pilot replied that he understood, and changed course.
“We cannot make it on time your majesty, the couch should be activated at any moment!”
A flock of ducks crashed against the windshield of the plane.
“Wow I didn’t know birds flew this high up-”
A couple of meteors bounced off the windshield.
“Oh no,” cried Emperor Meep.
A sound resembling an explosion suddenly erupted throughout the plane, which consequently tilted downward and began spiraling downward, sending Emperor Meep and the suited men around him flying backward against the wall of the cabin. Behind terrified screams, the pilot began to yell something about the left wing of the plane blown off the plane. The plane flew past the clouds, and plummeted toward the blueness of the ocean, before smashing down on the ocean, nose-first.
Hi kids! TELL ME WHAT YOU THOUGH PLeassSE! Please 🙂