Can I ask you a question?
What's it like to have a conscience?
Isn't it annoying to have a little voice in the back of your mind that prods you to do what you don't want to? Are there times you ignore that irritating, righteous part of yourself and do exactly what you want without the slightest trace of guilt, no matter what your conscience says?
The answer is, of course, yes. See, I don't have one, myself, but in a thousand years or so of existence, you get to learn a little something about the way the minds of mortals work. And nine times out of ten, you ignore your consciences when it suits you. No wonder you're all so easy to corrupt.
I know about those dark little fantasies you have about doing precisely what you shouldn't. It must be thrilling for you to imagine giving into your baser impulses, those carefully-hidden little demons that you don't want anyone to know about. And actually acting on them-- well, geez, that must be positively exhilerating.
So why don't you? A little lie here, a spot of violence there... More and more, until your conscience, such as it is, isn't even trying to stop you anymore.
Doesn't that sound fun?
You should join me.
I'm not sure that 'mission' is the right term, really. It's more than a job; it's what I am. I do what I do because I'm compelled to do it and doing it is what I like to do. Did you get that? Just making sure. Some of you mortals are a bit slow.
At any rate, what I do, what I am, is the creation of disorder. I am an embodiment of chaos, and my raison d'etre is to spread it far and wide across the world.
It might be simple; let's go with the delightful classic and say stealing candy from a baby. It's a cliche for a reason, am I right? On the other hand, it might be something much bigger-- manipulating a ruler to start a war, say.
It doesn't matter which. No matter the scale of the chaos created, it gives me equal pleasure, and a happy, tingly feeling.
Sounds great, I bet. Well, that's because it is. And not only do I create chaos, but I'm always on the lookout for minions to join the cause. Most of you manage to slide down that slippery slope to corruption just fine by yourselves, so kudos to you guys! And to the rest of you, those who keep clinging to your feeble 'morals' and 'ethics'-- c'mon, relax a little! Wouldn't you prefer to live a fun life, rather than a miserable one full of struggles to deny your natural chaotic urges? Trust me when I say that no matter who you are, your conscience will shut up after being ignored for long enough. And then... you're free.
Here's a sample of what my average day might look like:7:16 AM
I'm flattered, though I'm not sure it's possible to convey the magic that is me through mere words. Still, I'll try, because I am my favourite subject.
Let's see... I'm easygoing and good-natured. Some chaos demons, they're always with the, 'Rage, kill, destroy!' Those guys've gotta lighten up a bit, learn to enjoy their job, because it's the best one out there. Of course, I'll feed you your own intestines for entertainment, same as any of them will. I'll just be wearing a winning smile and telling knock-knock jokes while I do it.
I'd love to be your friend, but only so I can betray you in some horrific way. Fact is, without a conscience, I'm literally incapable of feeling true fondness for anyone else. Still, I'll think you're pretty wicked if you happen to contribute in any way to the spread of chaos. Remember when kids used to say 'wicked'? And play with Pogs? Hahaha.
Appearance-wise, I might look like a toy, but in fact I'm made out of demon flesh, a unique substance that's difficult to describe to someone who's never had personal experience with it. If I had to, I'd say it's.... bouncy-stretchy-rubbery-soft-resilient.
Also, my coolness level is roughly equivalent to a combination of the Fonz, Chuck Norris, and the guy who's on a horse. Only even. cooler.
How was I born? Well, you see, when a mommy demon and a daddy demon love one another very much...
Kidding. The truth? I exist because of you.
See, feelings and thoughts don't just exist within the minds of those who have them, fleeting and ephemeral. They're real, and they continue to exist long after your mind has moved on. Wherever you go, you leave real, physical traces of them-- invisible to your eyes, of course. Sometimes, those thoughts and feelings collect in a certain place, like grime in a bathtub. They merge, and take on life of their own.
This build-up of negative feelings is how demons of my kind are born. (And our goody-two-shoes counterparts, which you might call a certain type of angel, are born of good thoughts-- but who cares about those winged pansies, right?) Yours truly was formed of this gunk. Growing up was simply a matter of collecting more of those feelings until I felt about big enough to stop. (P.S. I was the cutest newborn ever: Y/Y?)
Thanks for being so depraved, guys!
Immortality: That's right, you lucky thing, you. I'm never going anywhere. As a demon, my existence is eternal. Won't get old, can't get sick, and certainly no injury's going to stop me for long, thanks to my good old regenerating demon flesh.
Teleportation: Traveling is easy when you're me, since I can disappear and reappear elsewhere at will. I can also take someone else along for the ride if I'm touching them when I teleport. Ever felt like taking a trip to the bottom of the ocean, or to Saturn? I can make it happen! (You must provide your own oxygen.)
Hat: My hat is a very special little item. It's much deeper than it looks. Much. I can store just about anything in there, so don't be surprised if I pull out a bazooka, a whale, or that kid from The Sixth Sense.
It also has a convenient tendency to ignore gravity and stay put in its home-- namely, my head-- no matter if I'm hanging upside-down or what. I love my hat very much. If you try to steal it, I'll eat your soul.
...Okay, that's not really one of my powers. I can't actually touch your soul, assuming those even exist (hey, I don't know everything. Just more than you). But I'll do something very creative to your organs, at least.
I'm not a turkey or any other kind of fowl (well, there was that one Thanksgiving when I executed a brilliant, elaborate plan to cause mayhem while dressed like one... long story). I chose to call myself Gobble because it sounds weird and slightly ominous, like me.
My favourite song is the Song That Never Ends. Because it goes on and on, my friends. Some people started singing it, not knowing what it was, and they'll continue singing it forever just because.
I don't have to eat, breathe, sleep, or do any other bodily functions you're used to, but I can and do when I feel like it. Once, I dreamed I was a foot.
I don't live anywhere in particular. Sometimes I like to squat in people's houses. My favourites are the ones with old ladies. They bake me cookies, then once I've killed them, it's a hoot to play around with their dentures. Chasing the crying grandkids with them, all, "Granny's gonna getcha!" Classic, man, classic.
Atlantis was real. At least, until a certain chaos demon, who will remain modestly nameless, came along. (Hint: It was me.)
What do I look like without my hat on? It's one of life's great mysteries.
Since you've heard all about my fabulous lifestyle, you're probably clamouring to be a part of it by now. "Gobble," you're wailing, "you're soooo cool." That I am, and you can be like me. All you have to do is stop caring about anything but your own entertainment.
Heck, most of you are halfway there already. Disillusioned with the world, aren't you? Cynical. So much pain and suffering and no one cares about anyone else. Why should you?
Join up with me, and you can live a life that's free of worry, working towards the noble and hilarious purpose of messing everything up even more.
Understand that I'm perfectly capable of working on my own-- prefer it, really-- but there's nothing wrong with having a few others out in the world, preaching the Gobble Gospel and causing destruction. Wouldn't you like to lend a hand?
My minions so far are thus. Also, I helpfully defaced their pictures to give them more character.Mime Dog Thing
Here is a talking, ill-tempered mime-dog who wears a beret. Yeah, you read that right. He's pretty much contributing to chaos simply by existing, don't you think? He pretends to be annoyed by me, but the love in his eyes whenever I come a-callin' is impossible to miss. I suspect if you asked him, he'd deny being my minion, but it's okay if my agents of chaos don't realize they're just that.
This guy is buddies with the above mime, and he is easy as heck to manipulate. Someone in his past-- a true genius who I definitely admire-- turned him from a real kougra into a stuffed one, and he pretty much exists in a state of perpetual humiliation. He wants to be seen as dignified and intimidating so badly that it's a piece of cake to bait him into doing evil things.
Want to be my minion? Stupendous. Those spots up there are reserved for minions I've had prolonged interaction with, but I'm happy to accept strangers on board, too. Just sign on the dotted line. Preferably in blood, but it's okay if it's someone else's blood. ?
Let's face it. I'm unbelievably good-looking. At least, I am to anyone whose opinion matters, which is to say, me. At any rate, others have noted this fact, and were so inspired they felt the need to create art of me. Drag and dop to view these magnificent creations.
Have a picture you'd like to see added to the rest? Send it on over.
NEOPETS, characters, logos, names and all related indicia
are trademarks of Neopets, Inc., © 1999-2013.
® denotes Reg. US Pat. & TM Office. All rights reserved.
Use of this site signifies your acceptance of the Terms and Conditions