102 Death To Rebels

“Death To Rebels”
Sung to the tune of
“Death to Squishies” from the video game
Ratchet and Clank 3: Up Your Arsenal

“Inga, to what do I owe the pleasure- and I use the term loosely- of you suddenly summoning me to this pigsty that you call your private quarters when I could be devoting my time to more worthwhile pursuits?” Ga’ran impatiently asked, her foot impatiently tapping as she sat in a chair in Inga’s private quarters.

“Hold your horses, Ga’ran. There’ll be plenty of time to fly around on your broomstick and terrorize the people of Munchkin Land after my computer decides to not make my life even worse than it already is and play the damn video already!” The Minister of Justice snarled as he repeatedly clicked the refresh button his laptop’s monitor. “Though to answer your question, in anticipation of all the complaints we’ll be getting from parents about that Ga’ran Kids PSA that you’re forcing me to air before the premiere episode of ‘The Plumed Punisher’s’ next season, I’ve decided to create a new one starring Rayfa to replace it.”

“You will be replacing nothing, Inga!” Ga’ran snapped. “If children can see a version of you shirtless and not be traumatized, then nothing will faze them. And even if a few disgruntled parents voice that ‘Let’s Help Her Eminence!’ isn’t appropriate for television, then I’ll make it so that they can no longer voice complaints.”

“That’s because those children haven’t seen the unspeakable things you’ve subjected me to in this very room, or my kitchen, or that broom closet in the Ministry of Justice that I happened to walk by that one day. If those children saw even half of those things you do with your fist and tongue, then you’d see a bunch of terrified kiddies running for the hills, see!” Inga snidely retorted.

“As tempting as that would be, Inga, I don’t think that it would be very effective on account of how the children would miss it if they blinked.” Ga’ran tittered. “Though speaking of which, I find it quite amusing that you feel that ‘Let’s Help Her Eminence!’ will give children nightmares, yet you were perfectly content with the idea of changing ‘The Plumed Punisher’s’ theme song to include a portion about her loving your ‘rock-hard’ abs until I rightfully rejected it. I swear, Inga, after having to suffer through that pitiful attempt to stroke your own ego, I can’t help but feel a bit apprehensive about what this video will entail. Oh, what am I saying? Nothing you write could possibly be worse than that theme song.”

“Now, Ga’ran, don’t go saying that kind of stuff ’til after you see the video. Who knows, maybe unlike sunshine and human decency, you’ll actually take a liking to it and- Oh, thank goodness, it’s starting!” Inga rejoiced as the video started playing, showing Rayfa standing on a large, brightly lit stage with the actors playing the Plumed Punisher and Inga from the show in-costume and dancing behind her before she started singing.”

---

{Inga}

I see our country,
And here’s what I see:
Dhurke and his minions spreading pain and misery!
I hate those rebels,
They threaten our lands!
That’s why I say,
We must now take a stand!

Do you love the Holy Mother?
Then these words you should utter!

To all those who love our nation and all it represents,
We must steel ourselves and bring the fight to those thugs!
By the Holy Mother’s pained pleas,
Our noble work won’t end until we see,
Dhurke on the ground dead!

---

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, Inga, but you somehow managed to defy my expectations…” Ga’ran noted with a slight look of shock.

“Told ya you’d like it,” Inga smirked as he chomped down on his cigar stump.

“And just like our nights of passion, you’re acting all high and mighty despite the fact that I’m not even close to finishing.” Ga’ran groaned as she scowled at her husband.

“And like how you whisper in my ear that I should feel blessed while I’m screaming in terror on those nights of punishment, you’re making no sense,” Inga replied with a growl of irritation.

“Then allow me to explain myself with words that are of a length that you are very familiar with: short.” Ga’ran snidely responded as she glowered at her husband. “You actually managed to produce something that was an even bigger failure than that self-pandering revised theme song. That song Rayfa sung- if you could refer to that train wreck as such- was short, bland, and had absolutely presence to it whatsoever. It was the musical equivalent to your performance in the bedroom, whereas “Let’s Help Her Eminence” is a masterpiece that captures the nuanced beauty and raw passion of my lovemaking.”

“If you mean that it’s long, scary, and makes me wanna jump off a cliff afterwards, then I fully agree with you.” Inga sneered.

“The issue here isn’t whether or not you’re capable of handling a real woman, Inga- which you can’t- but rather, how you have managed to sink to a new nadir of incompetence and disappointment and mind you, that also includes our Disney roleplay night last March, Gaston, or should I say Garcon?” Ga’ran snidely retorted.

“One,” Inga snapped with a raised finger, “it’s kinda hard for a guy to perform when his banshee wife is dressed up like freakin’ Cruella De Vil, complete with skunk hair and skin grayer than the lucky corpses of the mooks I’ve executed that don’t have to look at you! And two,” the Minister of Justice raised a second finger, “I didn’t write that song, Rayfa did. See, Rayfa was so excited when I asked her if she’d be willing to star in a pre-episode PSA for ‘The Plumed Punisher’ that she insisted that she help out by writing a song to sing, and you know I can’t say no to those puppy dog eyes she flashes me. I may be married to you, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t have a soul!”

“Figures.” Ga’ran scoffed with a roll of her eyes. “Like Amara, that girl’s creativity is as lacking as her bust size, and her execution is as pitiful as her Dance of Devotion is clumsy and off-tempo.”

“Now listen here, Mama Methuselah, you can insult me- I’ve built up a tolerance to it over the years in addition to going numb below the waist- but I’m not gonna stand by and let you insult my daughter!” Inga snarled, getting right up in his wife’s face, much to her surprise. “That girl is talented in everything she does and has the personality of a saint, and if I hear any more insults directed at her come out of that unhinged jaw of yours, I swear to the Holy Mother, I’ll take out a spray bottle full of water and start squirting you until you’re nothing but a puddle absorbing into my carpet! And don’t think for a second that I’m afraid of the prospect of your crazy-ass guards killing me, ’cause at this point in my life, I’ll welcome it with open arms and-”

At that moment, much to Inga’s horror, he was cut off by his wife crashing her lips into his own, giving him the kiss of his life, pressing her hands on her husband’s cheeks in order to keep his head in place as he frantically tried in vain to escape.

“What the hell, Ga’ran?! I thought I told you at our wedding not to do that to me anymore!” Inga roared while frantically rubbing his lips against his sleeve, his eyes filled with terror as he leapt out of his seat and quickly took several steps back.

“I’m sorry, Inga. I could hardly help myself.” Ga’ran replied with a sultry grin as she licked her lips. “It’s just that it’s so rare that I get to see this side of you- so assertive, so in control- and it makes me feel like a woman.” The Queen stated as she got up from her seat and sauntered towards her husband, whose only response was to continue backing away until his back was against the door. “So, Inga, how’s about we get more… comfortable before continuing our discussion regarding our daughter’s ineptitude from the bed?” Ga’ran asked in a seductive tone, gently tracing her finger on the Minister of Justice’s chest, causing him to shudder as he frantically searched for the doorknob.

But unfortunately for Inga, right as he found the doorknob and was about to leave the room and run away as far as his legs could take him, Ga’ran grabbed both of his hands and started dragging him towards his bed as he desperately tried to free himself from the Queen’s manicured talons just as he started crying and screaming in terror.