The Dark Lord of the Blogsphere sat on his throne, brooding in the dark. He re-read the letter clutched in his hand for what seemed like the hundredth time. Finally with a sigh that sounded exactly unlike a freight train running over a slow turtle, he made his decision.
Stabbing a bony finger down onto the panel on the side of the desktop, he turned on the intercom. "Send in the Insta-son." He said into the mic.
A few moments later, the Insta-son walked into the Dark Lord's gloomy study. "Yes Father? You wanted to see me?" he asked.
"Father." snorted the Evil Blogger under his breath. Then, he flung the letter onto the desk. "Do you know what this is?" he asked the younger man.
The Insta-son glanced over the document for a moment and then answered. "It looks like a medical report of some kind."
"It's the results of a blood test." said the Dark Lord. "Two tests actually. Mine, and ...yours."
"So?" The Insta-son was puzzled by this exchange, to say the least.
"The report says that you are not my son," pronounced the Blogger in a tone of voice that could have frozen whole oceans. "Your slattern of a mother must have cheated on me! Because this document proves, medically and scientifically, that I am not your biological father!"
"Of course you aren't." answered the Insta-son.
"WHAT!?! You know? But... but, how... when?" stammered the Dark Lord.
"You told me. I'm adopted, remember? And every year, on my adoption day anniversary, you tell me the story of how I became Evil Glenn, Jr."
"Oh. Right. Now I remember," Evil Glenn (Sr) said wistfully. "We found you in that alley with a homeless couple I had just bludgeoned. I was just getting ready to beat you to death when the Insta-wife -such a wonderful woman- noticed you hitting the dead hoboes with your little toy hammer. She insisted that we adopt you on the spot." He wiped a small tear from the corner of his eye.
"Aw, Dad. You always get so sentimental when you tell that story." the Insta-son gushed.
"Come here son. And give your Dad a hug." beamed Evil Glenn.
After they had hugged for a little bit, the Insta-son looked up at his father and asked, "So, what do you want to do for Father's Day this year?"
"The same thing we do every night!" The Dark Blogger proclaimed.
"What, try to take over the world?"
"Well... yes, that. But first, let us kill some hoboes!"
Posted by GEBIV at June 17, 2005 09:58 PMQuite touching, actually.
Although I was fearful at first that perhaps *I'd* end up being the father :-)
Posted by: Harvey at June 18, 2005 02:27 PM