SciFi and Fantasy Stories: Diary of Evil

Day one.  I have decided to become evil.  It was an easy career choice, especially since I’m just a farmer.  Hell, it’s either become a hero, and do all those idiotic heroic things like fight dragons and put your life on the line for some skirt in chainmail; remain as a farmer and scoop horse… manure for the rest of time; or become evil and do whatever the hell I want to do, as long as I enjoy doing it.

Ordered my evil study-at-home kit today.  It took a few coppers that I just really didn’t have, but I figured I’m going to be evil anyway.  So, I sold the neighbor’s goats without his permission.  Now I just wait for the mail to get here.

* * *

Day four.  The farmer wasn’t very happy.  I had to work overtime in his fields to pay for those damned goats.  I swear…

Anyway, the package came today by bat post.  I eagerly opened it, only to discover that the bat wanted to get paid for its services.  Bat stew, by the way, is delicious when the bat is fresh.  I started reading as the night waned on.

* * *

Day seven.  I killed the farmer next to me as my first official act of evil.  I just wish I’d killed his seventeen sons.  It took me the better part of six hours running to escape their wrath. 

I can’t do this evil thing alone, apparently.  The book says that it’s best to have minions, but I have to have a castle first.  Hell, I could barely afford my hovel; where in the world am I going to find a castle?!?

* * *

Day eighteen.  I found a castle.  Sure, it’s supposedly haunted by the ghost of the murderous king from some century back.  I figured if he didn’t exist, the ambience would keep nosy idiots away; if he did, I could learn from him directly.  After all, how many evil geniuses get to learn from a mentor of that quality, who’s so evil that he isn’t allowed to leave the face of the planet after he dies? 

I’d have to pay for that kind of instruction.  I’m staying.

Day eighteen edit.  BY THE GODS ABOVE, I need an exorcist.  Yes, the murderous king’s ghost exists.  And all he does is sit in the foyer and blubber like an overgrown baby.  ALL DAY LONG.  He’s been crying nonstop now for twelve hours. 

I understand now why this castle was abandoned.  Gah… I need to figure out how to invent earplugs.

* * *

Day twenty-two.  Life is getting better now that I’ve grown used to the idiot’s crying.  And in a way, it does give it a semi-rustic atmosphere.  Plus, it’s done well to keep door to door salesogres away from my door.

I’ve begun to recruit some of the local goblin tribes to my cause.  They’re not the best troops, but I’ve got to start somewhere.  Plus, all they want as far as payment goes is human flesh.

I figure I’ll start by feeding them the farmer’s family.  Those damn kids have been after me ever since.  If I don’t kill them now, they’ll become heros and try to vanquish me.  I can’t have that.

* * *

Day forty.  Goblins are pretty damn efficient, I’ll give them that.  They may stink to high heaven, have incestuous relationships like it was going out of style, and eat anything that’s not made of rock or is eating them first… but they took my orders to kill those farmer kids pretty seriously. 

First they killed the farmer kids.  Then, just to be safe, they killed everyone at the next farm over.  Then, just to be one hundred percent sure, they ended up killing everyone for a few day’s ride in any direction.

Efficiency like that, I can respect.  I need more goblins… I think I’m going to try the next step in the ten-step program to evil… conquering a country.

* * *

Day two hundred and thirty-three.  The country is now mine.  If I’d thought goblins were efficient, I was pleasantly surprised by how trolls function.  I hired a few of the local tribes based on the recommendations of my goblin commanders, and they were used quite frequently in the siege of the kingdom’s castle.

No one had told me that the damn things regenerate.  That is just so frickin COOL.  I watched one of them get cut apart by one of the kingdom’s paladins... two minutes later, it was chewing on the leftover armor of the sap with a really freaky grin on its ugly face.

I need more of these trolls.  I wonder if I cut them in two and keep the pieces separate, would it make two trolls?

* * *

Day three hundred.  To answer my question, no, they don’t.  However, trolls also apparently reproduce as fast as they regenerate.  I had sixteen males and twelve females.  Now, I have twenty-two DOZEN of these damn things, and they eat more than the goblins do.

I understand now why evil overlords keep constantly attacking people.  They need to feed their stinking troops.

Accent on stinking.  Do NOT get too close to the trolls after feeding time.  Phew.

* * *

Day four hundred and six.  I took a wife from the neighboring kingdom as an offering to not kill their king.

Of course, immediately after the wedding, I killed the king and took control of that country as well.  My wife is beautiful, and fits the mold of an evil wife; raven black hair, willow-thin and didn’t bat an eye when her family was killed.  Honeymoon is tonight.

Whoot.

Day four hundred… whatever… edit.  Hot damn, I love being married.  She calls.. I go again.

* * *

Day sixteen hundred and seven.  Marriage is becoming tiresome.  All she does all day is yak, yak, yak.  Do this, do that, clean up the castle, can’t you do something about that gods-awful ghost in the foyer, good lord did you see what the trolls left on the front steps?

My ears are constantly ringing from her nagging.  I am tempted to leave her in the castle and go find a nice harem somewhere.  We made love on our wedding night.  That is NOT happening again.

But if I were to do that, she’d be furious. 

Day edit: It occurs to me that I’m supposed to be evil.  I can have a damn harem if I want, and there’s not a damn thing she can do about it.

Day edit2: she did something about it.  I’d no sooner brought the harem inside the castle than she ordered them all killed.  After the trolls were finished eating my harem, I then fed them my wife.  I’ll not have a wife again; too many issues there.

But damn, it’s going to make the nights long and lonely.  Perhaps one of the goblin sages might have an idea…

* * *

Day something or other, hell I’ve lost count.  The goblin sages had an absolutely wonderful idea.  Why worry about the problems with human females, when a demoness would do so much better.

And luckily, the spell for summoning demonic harems from the seven hells is a fairly easy one, except for one ingredient.  Unicorn blood.  I’ve been told it’s one of the rarest ingredients in the known world, so this should be interesting.

Edit: That useless king ghost thing in the foyer actually came in handy.  Turns out he had a whole supply of the stuff in his basement, and it’s been there for hundreds of years.  I’m going to flood the market with this stuff and make a fortune off of it.

Right after I summon my demonic sex fiends. 

* * *

Day after whatever day that was before.  That was, perhaps, the best idea I’ve ever had.  I wanted to err on the side of caution, so I summed a full baker’s dozen of the demonesses. 

I am TIRED.  Tired, tired, tired, tired, tired.  What the goblins failed to mention to me was that a demoness never gets tired.  Ever.  And they really like sex.  Ugh… I’ve had my poor privies on ice now for hours.

Good thing they also don’t discriminate.  Goblin, human or troll, they don’t care.

Morale is at an all-time high.

* * *

Yet another day.  Apparently there’s another thing about the demonesses that I wasn’t told.  They can have babies by any male of any species, and the little beasts that are spawned are part demon and part whatever-the-hell mated with the demoness.  And they can have a LOT of babies.

So now I have hundreds of wailing, screaming, crying and pooping half-breeds scattered around my castle. 

I miss the crying king.  I can’t hear his cries over these brats.

* * *

Two hundred days after my last entry.  Said brats have now grown into full-fledged creatures of terror.  Two hundred days of sheer torture was worth it to get these monsters.  I think it’s time to set my sights on the world now.

* * *

Three hundred days later.  I own the world.  These things are just plain NASTY.  Nothing can stand up to the might of a half-troll/half-demon… er, thing.  I still haven’t come up with a name for these beasties.

Perhaps fluffy bunnies.  Just to be really stupid.  Why?  Because I can.  I’m evil, remember?  It makes me happy to think that the most evil person in the world names his most ferocious creations after a bunny rabbit.  Besides, all the creatures are born pink… it just fits.

I need a drink.

* * *

Day six hundred of my worldly rule.  I am bored.  Now that I own everything and everyone is under my iron heel, there’s nothing left to do now but wait for some hero twerp to mature enough to attempt to overthrow my rule.

It occurs to me that this will eventually happen, especially as I age.  Time to start researching either immortality or necromancy.

Edit: necromancy it is.  Immortality requires too many promises to good gods for my taste.  Necromancy just simmers with evil… it only makes sense, right?

* * *

Day something or other.  Necromancy is just cool.  I’ve reanimated everyone that I’ve ever killed, and skeletons and zombies under my command have been causing more havoc in the world than my pink fluffy thingies of doom ever could. 

Now I’m going to make myself into a creature of the undead, and live forever.

* * *

The spell worked.  I am now the living embodiment of evil, and have no lifeforce to snuff out.  I will live forever, and reign supreme for all of eternity.

* * *

I’m bored again.  Ok, logical next step?  I kill everything on the damn planet.  That should be amusing for quite a few years, and I can’t seriously kill EVERYTHING, that’d take too long.

* * *

Six years later.  Apparently, between the undead forces and my pink creatures, ordering the eradication of every living thing on the planet wasn’t as hard as I thought it’d be.

Oops.  Damn, but I’m REALLY bored now.  And I’ve recently discovered that being undead means that a certain part of my anatomy… er… well, suffice to say I sent the demonesses back to the seven hells, as they’re just not needed anymore.

{whimper}

* * *

Several hundred millennium later.  I taught myself crochet.  I’ve tried to kill myself thousands of times over now.  I learned how to whistle, which I don’t understand since my lips rotted away thousands of years ago.

Now, I’m going to see how long it takes me to hop on one leg around the world.  I’m not stopping at oceans, either.  Perhaps I can drown.

* * *

Forty years have passed.  Roughly.  I’m back, so apparently I can’t drown either.  But I did hear a tell-tale rumbling from the ground today… perhaps the world is going to come to an end?

Dear gods, I hope so.

* * *

Just.  Friggin.  GREAT.  The world didn’t come to an end, it was just an earthquake.  However, the earthquake triggered a massive volcano, which in turned caused an other earthquake and subsequent sinkhole.

My castle and myself have now been entombed in a deep underground hole by thousands and thousands of pounds of molten rock.

Ah well.  I guess I can consider this a semi-death.  I need something to do to pass the time.

I know.  I’ll see how far I can count.

1.  2.  3….