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Mini Morbid · (06-10-2020)

Louisville, KY

The department of motor vehicles is, at the best of times, a legendary clusterfuck. Filled to the brim with the dregs of humanity who all waited until the last possible second to do basic things. And, in Kentucky, it was even worse. Even at eight in the morning, a good fifty percent of the people waiting dolorously with tiny slips of paper in their hands, each marked with an impossibly high number for so early in the morning, were there to argue pointlessly about their DUI status.

Mini Morbid just wanted to drive to work in his new friend, XWF Universal Champion Shawn Warstein's old Subaru. Warstein was not his friend. The Subaru was. With a new outlook on life, it seemed Warstein had little time for his old companion and had left it largely unattended. Enter Morbidcito and his ability to seduce all things, automaton or not.

"B-119876589?"

"What the fucking... hold on... B... 1,1,9,8..."

"B-119876589?"

"PLEASE TO BE FUCKING WAITING! B, 1,1,9,8,7,6,5..."

"Last call for B-119876589?"

"CHRISTING BULLSHIT FUCK TO THE FACE!!!! IT IS MY TURN, I DECLARE AND DEMAND!!!"

Mini Morbid storms to the counter, stopping only to sniff the air around a high school girl's cheerleading skirt as she takes the written test at a nearby kiosk.

"YOU WILL RIPEN SOON!!!"

"Moooooooooooooooooooooooom!"

The girl scampers off as Mini arrives at the counter.

"Hi, I'm Dylan. How can I help you young man? I'll need a parent of guardian to sign off on your learner's."

"DO NOT SPEAK OF MY FATHER!!! He was a valiant warmonger, conqueror of the undersea realm of KTHATH! He impregnated the whore of Atlantis and forced her to be swallowed by her own uterus! HE IS A GOD NOW!!!"

"Fantastic. Can I get your full legal name, sir?"

"Miniature Morbidcito Von Morbid the 17th."

"Do you have a middle name?"

"I would rather not discuss things like this."

"Sir it's a legal identification, if you want a license in the great state of Kentucky we need your full name."

"Betsy."

"Pardon?"

"I SAID MY MIDDLE NAME IS BETSY!!!!"

The thunderous voice of Mini Morbid echoes through the linoleum hallways, and at least three dozen red hat wearing yokels burst their sunburnt neck skin twisting to see the screaming Betsy.

"My mother was a devious witch! She christened me in my father's absence as he advanced in the Tenth Crusade. She was beheaded for this insult, but, you know, name changes are a lot of paperwork."

"I'll just stick with Miniature."

"GOOD!"

"How do you spell it?"

"What?"

"Your name, sir, how is it spelled?"

"INSULT! The alphabet was excommunicated from Mini Morbidonia decades ago for INSURRECTION! It, along with both the imperial and metric systems of WESTERN FILTH!"

"I agree! Screw that darn metric system! It ain't American!"

"INDEED, BROTHER IN ARMS!!!"

"But... you can read, right? I mean, without no alphabet or nothin' that might be hard..."

"OF COURSE I CAN READ! I have the finest education from the great bards and philosophers of Mini Morbidonia! I am proficient in many tongues! I even keep the professors locked in my dungeon in case I need a brush up."

"I just use flash cards."

"WRITTEN WORDS FOMENT DISOBEDIENCE!!! At the sight of letters I SPIT ANGRILY!!!"

"I'll just guess at the spelling... all right, what's your date of birth?"

"Which birth? THERE HAVE BEEN MANY!!!"

"Nope. Height?"

"One Mini Morbid."

"Uhhh... that's uhhh... that's how many feet?"

"INSOLENCE!!!!!"

"Never mind, dang... okay, weight?"

"One Mini Morbid!"

"Walked right into that one, I did... how tall were you when you were born?"

"One Mini Morbid! The units of measurements in my empire are determined by ME! Each day I am examined by a physician, who then communicates my dimensions to the Minister of Sciences and Alchemy, and the rest of the nation adjusts. Then the physician is burned alive so that his secrets die with him! THIS IS THE WAY OF MY PEOPLE!"

"Do you... what if you have a fever?"

"My temperature remains precisely ONE DEGREE MORBIDCITO! ETERNALLY!"

"Fine. Whatever. Just look into this machine and read the letters from left to right, okay?"

"LETTERS!?!???"

Mini begins to hock and spit viciously at the little stationary binocular machine or whatever it's called.

"Hey! HEY MAN STOP! Forget the test, Jesus Christ, just promise you ain't gay and you get the license, okay?"

A short time later, Mini Morbid is in the parking lot holding his freshly laminated Kentucky driver's license, as well as official permission to vote provided he does so for the GOP.

"ANARCHY!!!! I NOW HAVE THE MEANS TO ATTEND! Boris, you have offended my REGAL MAJESTY for the last time! For in merely a couple of days it will be THEE who is rolled in gravy and flour! THEE who shall be deep fried in the molten lard of an archaeopteryx, becoming EXTRA CRISPY FODDER for me LEGIONS of soldiers, who clamor at the border AWAITING MY COMMAND TO SEIZE YOUR HOMELAND!!!!"

"And as for YOU! THE ALLEGED RUSSIAN ROSE! THE HAEMOPHILIAC DESCENDANT OF THE ROMANOVS' YOUNG DAUGHTER AFTER BEING FILLED WITH THE SEED OF RASPUTIN!!! It is DESTINY that we meet on the field of battle! The lands of the Black Sea are rightfully MORBIDONIA'S!! The sweeping, frozen tundras of Siberia BELONG TO ME BY ANCIENT BIRTHRIGHT!!! Your ancestors ceded this territory to my great great grandfather, WHO WAS ALSO MORBIDCITO THE SEVENTEENTH!!! In exchange for a platoon of mutant hoplites and a single wyvern to assist against the nomads of Afghanistan and the wooden boats of Japan, WE WERE PROMISED THIS GEOGRAPHIC REGION!!! It is not our fault that your puny nation fell to the sane people as well as sushimen! HOW WERE WE TO KNOW THE WYVERN HAD A TASTE FOR RUSSIAN BLOOD!?!?? It is all we had available to train it with on short notice!!!"

"MAY YOU BOTH PERISH SLOWLY BY MY HANDS!!! And YOU, Jamaican Jimmy! Do NOT FUCK THIS UP!!!"

Mini walks away from the burning DMV as sirens wail in the distance.

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