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AGE: 27

OCCUPATION: Lecherous Hustler

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE: Popion is almost never without his trademark sunglasses. He operates under the belief that the glasses are necessary for the excessive amount of time he spends admiring his own reflection, which he thinks is hot enough to require eye protection. His narcissism is well founded, as the only gift God granted to the man was his good looks. He’s the definitive dreamboat, with his towering stature, broad shoulders, and square jaw line. His nose may be a little too sharp, and his lack of a healthy diet has left him slender to the point of lanky, but there’s not a girl who wouldn’t fall for Popion based on looks alone.

PERSONALITY: For all Popion has in looks, he lacks in personality. The man, while harmless, is the very definition of scurrilous. Nobody knows what tragic event occurred in Popion’s developmental years that left him without a proper moral compass, but whatever it was rendered him unable to understand what the term “acceptable behavior” meant. Popion is not malicious by any means, but he has a nasty habit of putting his own interests before the safety and well-beings of other’s. His good looks have left him self-absorbed and have turned him into an utter ego-maniac. The little intelligence he possesses is put towards charming and deceiving, both for monetary and romantic purposes. Popion doesn’t really seem to care about anybody or anything other than himself, but deep down, past the dark, murky layers of evil that coat his heart, there is the small capacity for love.

ENJOYS: Biddies.
Breasts.
Money.

DISLIKES: Working.
Queers.
Responsibility.


AGE: 15

OCCUPATION: Passive-aggressive Layabout

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE: Dice is a Tahnee. The meaning of that phrase has been lost to time, but what remains is the fact that the adolescent boy has a pair of fox ears nestled atop his head of unkempt black hair and a fox tail stemming from his backside. Despite these two furry features and a pair of large, innocent eyes, there’s nothing too noteworthy about the boy. A plain face and a scrawny body makes Dice barely noticeable when sided with the intimidating presence of Popion. Still, some grandmothers and schoolteachers may be inclined to call the boy “cute”, but seeing as how he has neither it’s an assumption that has yet to be confirmed.

PERSONALITY: To go along with Dice’s plain looks is a personality that never causes no trouble for no one. He’s kind, quiet, and gentle. To put it simply, he’s pretty damn boring. His lack of exciting qualities doesn’t bother him, however, as he much prefers hanging in the background and being left alone. If he had things his way, he’d simply have three square meals, read books, and sleep each and every day. Though, that’s rarely the case while under Popion’s guidance. Life with Popion has forced the young boy into a parental role, where each day is a struggle to maintain order and sanity. He is the calm voice and cool head that never loses its temper when the situation gets hot, though that’s mostly due to the fact that he gives up quite easily.

ENJOYS: Quiet contemplation.
Books.
Politely asking for things.

DISLIKES: Loud noises.
Mean people.
Popion.

This one, too.

Half-way wedged into the broken dirt that encompassed the near-barren landscape a single shard of glass shimmered in the morning sun. A few feet away Popion, clad in a white bathrobe that was unfortunately parted to reveal that it was all he was clad in, loomed over a modestly-sized folding table. He did not notice the seemingly insignificant shard. He wouldn’t have noticed it even if there was a large neon arrow pointing directly at it. The glass would go unseen even if it was surrounded by bare-breasted women motioning in its’ general direction, flanked by poodles riding unicycles through rings of fire, and was actually wedged inside a deliciously moist chocolate cake. Popion’s brain could only comprehend a single thought in the morning hours, and that was his need for coffee and toast.

The coffee pot went through all the necessary motions. It dripped, it bubbled, it hissed, it steamed. Beside it, the relic of a toaster stood still and silent. Popion peered intently into the cavernous confines of the old machine.

Ka-ching!

Two slices of bread popped-up from the two slots, just as white as they had been when they went in. Popion stared at the bread, the slow churning cogs in his head working desperately to spin fast enough to comprehend the situation, as well as make sense of the fury that was welling up deep inside him. He lifted his arm from his side and pressed the toaster’s lever down with a single outstretched finger.

Slnk.

The two slices slid back into the depths of the ancient appliance, where they remained for several minutes before popping up again as untoasted as they were the day Popion had bought the entire loaf. He stared at the toaster, dumbfounded. His barely functioning brain was gradually gaining an understanding of the situation. Questions began to form within the fog that filled his head. Questions that both confused and angered him. Questions like, Shouldn’t a toaster toast? Why isn’t my toaster toasting? and Why isn’t there toast in my mouth right now? Lacking answers to these pressing queries, Popion pushed the small, black lever down once more.

Slnk.

Ka-ching!

Popion recoiled as the bread popped up with increased celerity. He immediately straightened himself and fixed the toaster with a venomous glare. He brought the lever down with a little more force than necessary, hoping it would clearly convey his feelings on the matter.

Slnk.

Ka-ching!

Silence so thick it could squeeze the life from a baby lingered between the two. It was mocking him. He could feel the little box of plastic and metal and tarnished silver rumble with derisive laughter.

Slnk.

Ka-ching!

Slnk.

Ka-ching!

Slnk.

Ka-

Dice’s eyes opened wide as he was woken by a guttural roar. He sprung up from the backseat of the station wagon that served as his bed, only to hit his head atop the roof that covered the cramped space. Cursing and rubbing his pounding head, the boy stumbled out of the car only to be met with an image he would have preferred not to be the first thing he saw that morning. It appeared as if Popion was dancing with the toaster, or at least participating in some sort of barbaric ritual with it. The electrical cord whipped this way and that as Popion vigorously shook the toaster. Dice looked away as Popion’s bathrobe parted during the struggle, revealing the same lack of clothes that the thought of which sometimes kept the boy awake at night.

Dice heaved a sigh and turned away from a spectacle that any outsider would have at least considered interesting, but to him was just a reason to sleep in that morning.

Popion had remained unaware of his lone onlooker. The shame of someone actually watching his outlandish temper tantrum would not have stopped him anyway, due to the fact that he lacked any sense of shame to begin with. Thus, he continued to mercilessly mangle the toaster until his arms grew tired from shaking. With a deep breath, Popion hefted the broken appliance above his head with what appeared to be great effort.

“TOOOOOOOOAAAAAAST!” he bellowed.

-ching!

The two slices of bread flew from the toaster slots and fell to the dirt-covered ground. Popion, silent save for his ragged breathing, stared at the fallen bread with vacant eyes. He gazed upon the slices for some time until finally, with a thunderous cry, he threw down the cursed machine. It proceeded to crumple against the hard ground, a massive dent nearly cleaving it in twain. It was then, as he stood over the defeated toaster in grim victory, that he noticed the shard of glass.

But, it was not so much the glass that Popion noticed as it was the reflection the shard held. In what Popion saw as the toaster’s final attempt to humiliate him, the insides of the crippled appliance grew bright red with heat, despite the fact that it had been torn from its’ outlet at the beginning of their battle. He could only stomach the sight for an instant, immediately tearing his eyes from the mocking image. He wound his leg back and, with yet another mighty shriek, brought it crashing forward. The toaster soared, glinting brightly in the sun as it spiraled a great distance through the air. Popion watched as it eventually hit the ground several yards away, bouncing along with faint metal clinks until finally settling amidst a cloud of dust.

The shard of glass went ignored once more as Popion stormed back to soothe his tortured soul with a cup of steaming hot coffee and a bowl of dry cereal. A more observant person may have noticed the faint aura that had begun to radiate from the mysterious shard, but Popion was barely that observant when he was fully awake and completely sober. Thus, while the nearly naked man chewed mindlessly on spoonful after spoonful of Cap’n Crunch, the beginning of new life began to stir only a few feet away.