A Task Gone Wrong

Recently, I’ve taken it upon myself to kill thousands of Imps for a fellow Villager, who shall remain unnamed. For quite some time now, I’ve been killing these innocent little Imps, driven by the thought that eventually, one of them would drop a silly little scroll. I’ve killed thousands of these little buggers, hoping to be able to pry a scroll off of one of their cold, lifeless bodies. And through all of the bloodshed, I never once stopped to think about how the Imps felt about all of this.

However, a few days ago, something caught my eye. An Imp was walking around the volcano, carrying a little briefcase and wearing a small hat. I called out to the Imp, but he didn’t even turn around to look at me. I called to him again, and he turned around. At the sight of me, he began to run away at full speed. Normally, I wouldn’t have cared about something like this. However, an Imp in business attire is something I had never seen before, so I began to follow the little guy. Eventually, he had run into a patch of shrubs by the coast, and then he disappeared. Curious as to where he had gone, I got down on my hands and knees and tried to investigate his mysterious disappearance. I pushed aside some small branches, and was shocked to see what was behind them.

There, behind the branches, was a small home. A home fit for an Imp, in fact. There was a little kitchen, complete with a miniature larder and tea cups that looked like they belonged in a doll house. In the next room, two Imps, who appeared to be children, were sitting on couches with an ugly green floral pattern. The two were staring intently at this small box with noises and different pictures coming from it. I heard a tiny voice coming from the kitchen, so I began to listen in.

The small voice said, "Hey, honey. How was work?"

The response came from the Imp wearing a hat and carrying a briefcase. "Work was all right, nothing out of the ordinary. But on the way back, I was attacked by some homicidal human wearing a red outfit and wielding some sausage-link weapon. I barely made it home alive."

I couldn’t believe it! The homicidal maniac the Imp was describing was me! To think, all this time I had been killing innocent little Imps who have families. Just think of all of those mother Imps and baby Imps who no longer have someone to put bread on the table. There must be at least two thousand fatherless Imps out there, being forced to drop out of Imp school and go into the Imp factories to try and earn some money for the family.

That thought was interrupted by a voice coming from the magic picture box. "We interrupt this program to bring you an urgent update on the developing Imp slayer case. After today’s murders, the death count has reached 2,500. That’s right, 2,500 imps have been killed. Predictions say that at least five thousand Implings are now fatherless."

"Great," I thought to myself. Five thousand Imp children will never get to see their father’s again, and it’s all because of me. What a way to make you feel bad about yourself.

The voice from the box cracked in again, "We have breaking news on the case. An anonymous tipster has alerted the authorities to the location of the killer. He is being surrounded by the police as we speak."

I looked up from the box to see hundreds of Imps, wearing matching blue uniforms, pointing various staffs and wands at me. One of them yelled, "Fire!"

I could see blasts of fire, among other things, hurtling towards my body. Right before they hit, I thought to myself, "Boy, this is the last time I try to help out a fellow Villager."

So, next time you go out with plans to slaughter hundreds of monsters, just think about how they feel.

Written By: TheAmericanIdiot
Edited By: dr henry
Coded By: Whydidijoin