Those Devil Simpsons
Dec. 3rd, 2011 12:06 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
misseDisclaimer: Don't own or claim rights to Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Simpsons
Not Demons, Honest!
“Why do you insist on calling us demons?” the girl asked, frustrated.
“Do I need to spell it out for you?” the tiny blonde asked. “You're yellow, you have three fingers, and, honestly, how many eighth birthdays do you need? And let's not get onto the issue of your parents!” she shuddered.
“What's the problem with my parents?” the little, yellow, three-fingered girl growled.
“Blue hair! Who has blue hair?”
“Lot's of people have blue hair,” the girl asserted. “All over the place.”
“Yeah, but that comes out of a bottle. Your mother's hair is naturally blue.”
“Yeah, like yours is naturally blonde,” the girl snarked back.
The doubtful blonde gasped. “Do I need to go on about your father?”
“Please don't,” the girl whimpered.
“I swear, if his drool paralyses people, and then sets like cement, I'm declaring him a fyarl, and dealing with him.”
“Ha! Got you there! Dad doesn't have horns!”
The little blonde tilted her head as she considered the girl. “And how do you know about fyarls?”
“Er...”
Bart, Brat, Same Thing
Xander looked at the table-top. 'Clear space,' he decided, 'then commence the banging of the head.'
“Don't have a cow, man,” the tow-headed tyke opposite him recommended cheerfully.
“Oh. My. God,” the man ground out. “What the hell were the Council thinking?”
Xander knew exactly what the Council had been thinking. They had decided that, since Xander was fluent not only in SoCal-speak, but also Scooby-speak, he would naturally be tolerant of such a rampantly chaotic child. How his use of language led them to think that, he didn't know, but there it was. Of course it could just be that many saw him as that child...
“I know what you are,” Xander decided. “It's the only possible explanation. I know parents often say their children are little devils, but you really are a demon, aren't you? It's the only explanation. You're yellow. You're not just jaundiced, you are actually yellow. Your hair – which is exactly the same colour as your skin, and what's with that? – isn't just gelled up, it is perfectly spiky. And... Just... You!”
“I didn't do it, nobody saw me do it, there's no way you can prove anything!”
“Uh huh. Right. So I'm thinking you're actually a demon servant of Janus. Would that be correct?”
“Ah... No comment?”
“Shouldn't that be a statement, not a question?”
“No comment!”
“Yeah, too late. Okay, here's the deal. You confine your … influence … to Springfield, and I don't send a Slayer to … fix things. Okay? Okay.”
“Slayer? Aren't they all ...”
Xander watches, disturbed, as the boy trailed off into gibberish and drool. “Ah, yeah, but they'll also turn you into so much Bart-sushi without any problems, so I probably would concentrate on that part of the equation. Especially if they see you doing that. Ew.”
“Really?”
“Oh, yeah. They're big with the sharp and shiny.”
“They wouldn't hurt me. I'm just a little boy,” he countered, somehow fluttering his eyelashes.
“You're a demon, you're incredibly annoying, and, yes, they so very would slay you. With relish. And really sharp swords.”
The boy gulped. “So, uh, Springfield, huh?”
“Yeah. We might be able to include Shelbyville, if you're lucky.”
“Cool. Those Shelbyville kids are schmucks.”
“Yeah, whatever. That's not confirmed at this point. So, you, the demon, stick to Springfield, and try not to end the world, okay?
The boy demon sighed. “Yeah, okay, whatever.”
“Promise?”
“Yeah, I promise.”
“Okay, let's try that again, with both hands in full view.”
The boy scowled, but complied.
“Okay, and to top it off, you mess up, and I'm sending in not just a slayer, but THE Slayer, and she remembers having a sister your age, so there will be no mercy. Just lots of shiny sharp swords. Got it?”
The boy's eyes widened, and he nodded. “Ay carumba!”
Blue vs Yellow
I am Illyria, God-King of the Primordium. I am strong, eternal; I am an Old One.
I ruled this land from my temple until I was murdered by my rivals, and I was returned by my High Priest, my Qwa Ha Xahn. I took over the body of a human, of filth, and was later stripped of much of my power, but I was still strong. I fought the Senior Partners, and we won, even if my realm was consigned to Hell. I lost my humanity, and got it back when the Senior Partners decided to rewind time and pull Los Angeles out of Hell.
I am an Old One, I am strong, I am eternal.
Now, if only someone would tell me what 'ay caramba' meant, and could give me a reason to slay these yellow-skinned, four-fingered vermin.
Not Demons, Honest!
“Why do you insist on calling us demons?” the girl asked, frustrated.
“Do I need to spell it out for you?” the tiny blonde asked. “You're yellow, you have three fingers, and, honestly, how many eighth birthdays do you need? And let's not get onto the issue of your parents!” she shuddered.
“What's the problem with my parents?” the little, yellow, three-fingered girl growled.
“Blue hair! Who has blue hair?”
“Lot's of people have blue hair,” the girl asserted. “All over the place.”
“Yeah, but that comes out of a bottle. Your mother's hair is naturally blue.”
“Yeah, like yours is naturally blonde,” the girl snarked back.
The doubtful blonde gasped. “Do I need to go on about your father?”
“Please don't,” the girl whimpered.
“I swear, if his drool paralyses people, and then sets like cement, I'm declaring him a fyarl, and dealing with him.”
“Ha! Got you there! Dad doesn't have horns!”
The little blonde tilted her head as she considered the girl. “And how do you know about fyarls?”
“Er...”
Bart, Brat, Same Thing
Xander looked at the table-top. 'Clear space,' he decided, 'then commence the banging of the head.'
“Don't have a cow, man,” the tow-headed tyke opposite him recommended cheerfully.
“Oh. My. God,” the man ground out. “What the hell were the Council thinking?”
Xander knew exactly what the Council had been thinking. They had decided that, since Xander was fluent not only in SoCal-speak, but also Scooby-speak, he would naturally be tolerant of such a rampantly chaotic child. How his use of language led them to think that, he didn't know, but there it was. Of course it could just be that many saw him as that child...
“I know what you are,” Xander decided. “It's the only possible explanation. I know parents often say their children are little devils, but you really are a demon, aren't you? It's the only explanation. You're yellow. You're not just jaundiced, you are actually yellow. Your hair – which is exactly the same colour as your skin, and what's with that? – isn't just gelled up, it is perfectly spiky. And... Just... You!”
“I didn't do it, nobody saw me do it, there's no way you can prove anything!”
“Uh huh. Right. So I'm thinking you're actually a demon servant of Janus. Would that be correct?”
“Ah... No comment?”
“Shouldn't that be a statement, not a question?”
“No comment!”
“Yeah, too late. Okay, here's the deal. You confine your … influence … to Springfield, and I don't send a Slayer to … fix things. Okay? Okay.”
“Slayer? Aren't they all ...”
Xander watches, disturbed, as the boy trailed off into gibberish and drool. “Ah, yeah, but they'll also turn you into so much Bart-sushi without any problems, so I probably would concentrate on that part of the equation. Especially if they see you doing that. Ew.”
“Really?”
“Oh, yeah. They're big with the sharp and shiny.”
“They wouldn't hurt me. I'm just a little boy,” he countered, somehow fluttering his eyelashes.
“You're a demon, you're incredibly annoying, and, yes, they so very would slay you. With relish. And really sharp swords.”
The boy gulped. “So, uh, Springfield, huh?”
“Yeah. We might be able to include Shelbyville, if you're lucky.”
“Cool. Those Shelbyville kids are schmucks.”
“Yeah, whatever. That's not confirmed at this point. So, you, the demon, stick to Springfield, and try not to end the world, okay?
The boy demon sighed. “Yeah, okay, whatever.”
“Promise?”
“Yeah, I promise.”
“Okay, let's try that again, with both hands in full view.”
The boy scowled, but complied.
“Okay, and to top it off, you mess up, and I'm sending in not just a slayer, but THE Slayer, and she remembers having a sister your age, so there will be no mercy. Just lots of shiny sharp swords. Got it?”
The boy's eyes widened, and he nodded. “Ay carumba!”
Blue vs Yellow
I am Illyria, God-King of the Primordium. I am strong, eternal; I am an Old One.
I ruled this land from my temple until I was murdered by my rivals, and I was returned by my High Priest, my Qwa Ha Xahn. I took over the body of a human, of filth, and was later stripped of much of my power, but I was still strong. I fought the Senior Partners, and we won, even if my realm was consigned to Hell. I lost my humanity, and got it back when the Senior Partners decided to rewind time and pull Los Angeles out of Hell.
I am an Old One, I am strong, I am eternal.
Now, if only someone would tell me what 'ay caramba' meant, and could give me a reason to slay these yellow-skinned, four-fingered vermin.