NEW SHEOTH, THE SHIVERING ISLES – Sheogorath, the Daedric Prince of Madness, invited news reporters from MSNBC, CNN, CBS, ABC, Comedy Central, TBS, HBO, The Onion, and The Spoof to attend a press conference in New Sheoth, Sheogorath's home in the Shivering Isles.
According to Tamriel lore, Sheogorath has spent countless millennia interfering with the lives of mortals, with acts ranging from making mortals wear silly clothes to making an entire city disappear in a cloud of processed cheese.
Sheogorath began interacting with earth in April of 2014, coinciding with the release of The Elder Scrolls Online. He was mistaken for a virus when he replaced every picture on the Fox News website with the hindquarters of a donkey. He would appear randomly in different video games, including turning Ryu and Ken into Rock-em-Sock-em robots in Street Fighter V, arguing with W. D. Gaster about who is better at being non-existent in Undertale, and, most famously, replacing all of the outfits in Team Fortress 2 with banana suits.
The invited reporters gathered at a portal at the Lake George Mystery Spot, where Sheogorath's voice boomed, “Ah! Mortals! What a pleasant surprise!
This will be my first contact with Earth Things! But why do you call yourselves things? Do you call your belongings people? I can just imagine it: 'Hey, doctor! I have a strange-looking person on the back of my neck. Be a sport and whack it off with a broadaxe!'”
The gathered reporters stood in stunned silence.
“Well, don't just stand there, you silly Things! New Sheoth isn't going to sprout legs and walk over to you! But if you ask it real nicely, it might play a game of fetch with you!” Sheogorath announced.
After a brief pause, Sheogorath sinisterly sneered, “Of course, you'll be the ball.”
The Daily Show correspondent Roy Wood Jr. shook his head and shouted, “Nope! Uh-uh! I've seen enough movies to know how this ends!”
“Don't be ridiculous, Roy!” Sheogorath responded with a laugh. “This isn't anything like the movies! I won't make you sell your house or your lungs to buy a tub of popcorn! Time's a wastin'!”
The reporters carefully entered the portal, where they were greeted by Golden Saints, one of the races compromising Sheogorath's personal guard. The Golden Saints escorted the reporters to the New Sheoth Palace, where the reporters were instructed to wear more appropriate attire.
Said attire consisted of a variety of costumes, ranging from a giant Kirby suit to what looked like a long piece of mint-flavored dental floss.
After choosing and wearing their costumes, the reporters gathered in Sheogorath's throne room, where Sheogorath, sitting in his throne, greeted them with a wide smile.
“Splendid! Splendid! My very own news conference!” Sheogorath gleefully announced, standing up. Sheogorath clapped his hands together and shouted, “Haskill!”
Haskill, Sheogorath's personal butler, appeared next to Sheogorath.
“Haskill, fetch me my podium!” Sheogorath commanded.
“Yes, sir,” Haskill dryly replied, as he clapped his hands together.
A Dark Elf appeared in front of Sheogorath. “Is it time for my close-up?”
“Luggage, you're going to be a star!” Sheogorath responded with a hearty laugh. Deverin then squatted in front of Sheogorath, holding his hands above his head. Sheogorath grabbed the top of Deverin's head and magically pulled a microphone out of his scalp.
Speaking into the microphone, Sheogorath began: “Earth Things, I've called you here for a very important reason. To be blunt, I need to get something off of my chest.”
Sheogorath opened his tunic, and a giant dragon made of cheese emerged from Sheogorath's body. It roared once at the reporters, then flew off.
“Ah, don't worry about Curtha! The Dragonborn will take care of him!” Sheogorath announced.
Sheogorath then paused, then continued, “Well, I'm pretty sure that the Dragonborn can take care of him. At least, there's a slight chance that the Dragonborn can take care of it. Well... at least Tamriel will die like it lived: full of cheese.”
Sheogorath buttoned up his tunic, cleared his throat, and announced, “And with that out of the way, I've got something to tell you Earth Things.”
The reporters started taking notes and recordings.
“You've got a real mess on your hands! And not the good kind of mess, where it gets between your toes and gets all tickly! You've got a bad mess! The kind of mess that seeps through your skin, paints graffiti on your lungs, replaces your blood cells with bread crusts, and – if you're lucky – kills you dead.”
“What...” Last Week Tonight's Jon Oliver, dressed as a cooked turkey, unsteadily asked. “What if we're... unlucky?”
Sheogorath shook his head sadly and somberly answered, “You turn into a ham sandwich. And that's not the worst of it, Earth Things.”
The Lead With Jake Tapper's Jake Tapper, wearing a coconut bra and a grass skirt, asked, “What's worse than being turned into a ham sandwich?”
“No mayo!” Sheogorath shouted, pounding his fist into Deverin's hands. “No lettuce! No mustard! No correction fluid! No orc blood! No lava! Just two pieces of bread and one piece of ham for all eternity!”
The reporters shifted uneasily in their seats.
Full Frontal With Samantha Bee's Samantha Bee, dressed as a
ballerina, nervously asked, “So what is this threat?”
Sheogorath took a deep breath, then responded, “You've got teensy-weensy, itty-bitty, tiny-winy, NATIONWIDE INVASION! Terrorists in every nook and cranny! You've got bandits in your belfry! You've got assassins in your apple carts! You've got criminals in your cul de sacs!”
Sheogorath paused. “Why do you call it a cul de sac?” he mused. “Don't you think a better term for it would be a 'traffic zit?' It makes it sound fun! Just think... one minute, you're driving along, and then all of a sudden... POP! Pus for everybody!”
The Rachel Maddow Show's Rachel Maddow, wobbling in her Kirby costume asked, “Sheogorath, what can you tell us about these terrorists?”
Sheogorath shook his head. “Oh, it's a... I believe the word you would use is 'clusterfunk.' They're spreading like... like... living peanut butter! You've got to act quick before your entire nation gets swallowed up!”
60 Minutes's Anderson Cooper, wearing a large jar of peanut butter, pressed on. “Yes, but who are they? What are they? Where are they?”
Sheogorath leaned into Deverin, his brow furrowing. “It's ironic, really. And not like the 'rain on your wedding day' type of ironic. More like the 'raining flaming rats on your Musophobics Anonymous' type of ironic!” he explained.
With a pause, he continued, “They call themselves... Pro-Lifers.”
The reporters looked at each other in confusion.
“What?” Sheogorath asked, bewildered. “You are from Earth, right? You are from the Untied Shoes of Amiga, right?”
ABC News's David Muir, wearing a chicken suit, cleared his throat, then responded, “The Pro-Life movement is a political group, Lord Sheogorath.”
“Pull the other one! It might come off and give you a swift kick in the jimmy!” Sheogorath shouted angrily. “I'm well aware of your obsession with Hillary's emails, Trump's bowel movements, Kim's three sizes, and Kanye throwing a towel over his head and declaring himself invisible! But wake up, Earth Things! It's time you do your jobs! You're like chefs that make nothing but dragon snot sandwiches!”
Sheogorath paused, leaned forward, and snarled, “And I hate dragon snot sandwiches.”
The reporters shifted uncontrollably.
“Not you two, Bee and Oliver. You're doing okay. More cheese wouldn't hurt, though,” Sheogorath added.
Tapper stated, “Lord Sheogorath... you're declaring that an entire political party is a group of insane terrorists. Such inflammatory rhetoric-”
“You want inflammatory rhetoric, Tapper? How about I shove a few bloodworms in your coconuts, and you can demonstrate inflammatory rhetoric for yourself?”
Tapper fell silent.
Sheogorath sighed, then continued, “Look... Earth Things... you see madness as a binary condition. 'Are you mad? Press 1 for Yes. Press 2 for No. Press 3 to listen to Weird Al Yankovich peform [url
target=_blank]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xPU8OAjjS4k">Kryptonite on his accordion.'”
Sheogorath paused, then elaborated, “But there are millions upon millions of types of madness, ranging from, 'I think I'll wear my napkin on my head today' to 'I'm trading the entire universe in for a handful of magic beans!' There are auroras of abnormal! Murals of madness! Rainbows of rabidness!”
Sheogorath took a deep breath. “But these... Pro-Lifers...” Sheogorath narrated with a rumbling voice. “They have the most dangerous madness of all! Write this down backwards! This is very important!”
Sheogorath slammed his fists into Deverin's palms and exclaimed, “They have the type of madness where they're completely bonkers... but they think that they're sane! Could you imagine? Not knowing that you're mad? That sounds like a fate worse than death!”
Sheogorath turned to Haskill, concern on his face. “Haskill, am I still mad?” he asked.
“As the proverbial hatter, Lord Sheogorath,” Haskill replied.
“Splendid!” Sheogorath cheerfully shouted, clapping his hands together.
“Now... where was I?”
“Being mad and believing you're sane,” Maddow responded.
“Right! Right!” Sheogorath shouted, then composed himself. “So you have one... or two... or 6,9 million Americans that love fetuses. No... I mean that they really love fetuses! Fetus t-shirts! Fetus trading cards! Fetus DLC for Lego Marvel Heroes 2! Hell, give them half a chance, and they'll find a Mommy, spread her legs open, jump in head-first, and invite the fetus for a nice cup of tea in scenic downtown uterus!”
The reporters blinked in confusion.
Sheogorath continued, “They fight to defend the fetuses! They fight for fetus rights! They force TV hosts to interview fetuses! They elect fetuses to Congress! They enter fetuses into the Olympics! They're just shoving these fetuses everywhere! And if someone even looks at a fetus funny, they strike like a swarm of elytras! Not even the Dragonborn could withstand such an onslaught!”
The reporters looked at each other uneasily.
“And then...” Sheogorath said. “Things get weird.”
“...go on,” Wood Jr. requested.
Sheogorath explained, “These Pro-Lifers love the fetuses. Can't get enough of them! But the second that the baby pops out of the Mommy, they shriek, 'What in the bloody Hell is that thing?!? This isn't a fetus! This is some sort of abomination! I want nothing to do with this monster! If you think we're going to help you raise that wrinkly crap factory, you're out of your damned mind! But please call us again when you have more of those heavenly fetuses.”
The reporters looked down as they took notes.
Sheogorath continued, “The fetus must be protected at all costs. But once they pop out of Mommy, all of the Pro-Lifers become Elmer Fudd, and all of the Pro-Choicers become Bugs Bunny... only more human and less funny. The Pro-Lifers love those fetuses, but they'll abort the crap out of everything else! Why, look at Dr. George Tiller! They went and aborted him in his 204th trimester!”
Sheogorath leaned forward and hissed, “And then there's their bloodthirsty god...”
The reporters gulped.
“There they go, the Pro-Lifers, waving their Bibles around in one hand and their guns in the other,” Sheogorath bemoaned. “All the while, they're talking about this barbaric god they call Jesus. 'Jesus says you'll burn in Hell if you get an abortion.' 'Jesus says you'll burn in Hell if you donate to Planned Parenthood.' 'Jesus says you'll burn in Hell if you masturbate!' I've never met this Jesus thug, but he sounds like an oversized troll with a school of slaughterfish crammed up his ass! It's like playing a game of 'Simon Says,' only everybody loses, and nobody gets any cheese!” Sheogorath ranted.
“Their take on Jesus is... unorthodox to say the very least, Lord Sheogorath,” Oliver explained.
Sheogorath blinked. “Unorthodox? How so?” he asked.
Oliver responded, “Jesus is actually a peaceful God, unless you're a banker.
He didn't even bat an eyelash at his killers.”
“Ah! I see!” Sheogorath explained. “And now, he's out for revenge!”
“Well, no...” Oliver unsteadily answered.
Wood Jr. explained, “Some people like to... re appropriate God... for their own goals.”
“That's sacrilege!” Sheogorath shouted. “If someone tried to re appropriate me, I'd re appropriate their head clean off their shoulders!”
“Jesus is a bit more mellow than that,” Maddow explained. “Unless you're a banker.”
“That's understandable,” Sheogorath growled. “Bunch of pricks, the whole lot of them. Let's see them laugh when I compound their interest right down their throats!”
Sheogorath let out a sigh. “Where was I?” he asked.
“You were wrapping up Jesus,” Cooper responded.
“Oh, yes, yes. Millions of millions of fetus maniacs, spreading terror, lies, murder, tamarind jam, suntan lotion that smells like feet, and all other kinds of atrocities,” Sheogorath explained. “I was in RBI Baseball 18, using Ganondorf as a baseball bat, when random voices started shrieking, 'Abortion causes the T-Veronica virus!' 'Abortion causes explosive flatulence!' 'Abortion makes your armpits smell like durians!' Not a single doctor among them! They might as well have said that abortion beats a royal flush!”
Sheogorath took a breath, then continued, “And it gets worse, Earth Things.”
“Oh, boy,” Oliver muttered.
“You've got your Gop, and they're-”
“Excuse me, Lord Sheogorath,” Tapper interrupted. “But what is a Gop?”
“Are you daft, Tapper?” Sheogorath shouted. “It's one of your political parties!
You have the Democratic Party, and you've got the Gop!”
“You mean the GOP?” Tapper asked.
“What's wrong with you, Tapper?” Sheogorath hissed. “This is a press conference, not a spelling bee! Say it right! The Gop! What are you? A five-year-old?”
“No, sir...” Tapper muttered.
“As I was saying,” Sheogorath grumbled. “You've got the Gop. And they're even crazier than the Pro-Lifers! And they think that they're the sanest sons of Akatosh to ever wear a mudcrab on their heads! But they're breaking the law by making laws!”
“You're referring to Trap laws,” Maddow stated.
“You always were a smart lass, Maddow!” Sheogorath replied with a smile. His face darkened as he continued, “Yes. Trap laws. Making all sorts of restriction on abortion. 'You can't have an abortion unless the doctor can work at a nearby hospital.' 'You can't put your abortion clinic near a school.' 'You can't have an abortion unless you have an ultrasound.' 'You can't have an abortion unless your last name ends in a vowel.' 'You can't have an abortion if you've ever spit into the wind.' 'You can't have an abortion if you haven't beaten the last level of Battletoads.' It just goes on and on an on, like a broken record that wants to bite your face off and take it to Prom!”
Sheogorath took a deep breath. “And it gets even worse!” he shouted.
The reporters gulped.
“You just appointed this new judge... Beer Keggerstand,” Sheogorath explained. “He thinks of women the way most of you think of a grocery bag. He's itching to work with the rest of the Gop to pass a law that states that conception begins in 1712. So unless you have an Elder Scroll, or Doctor Who on speed dial, you're carrying that fetus to term! 'Sorry to hear about your rape, lassie, but your attacker wants to talk about collecting child support payments from you.'”
Sheogorath took a deep breath. “And when that happens, they're going to throw Roe into the deepest, darkest dungeon that they can find. Wade, too, for good measure. And they're going to try and squeeze all of the Clintons through the bars, just to get their kicks!”
“And abortion will be outlawed all over the nation,” Bee stated.
“Yes, Bee,” Sheogorath responded. “But they won't stop there. They're going to watch over Mommies like hawks. If they so much as rub their bellies... 20 years in solitary!”
“That's outrageous!” Cooper gasped.
“Yes, Cooper. It's going to be a mess. Sea to shining sea of baby poop. What a way to go,” Sheogorath sighed.
Sheogorath sighed and continued, “I want to die as I lived: surrounded by good company, good cheese, and The Chicken Dance blasting away on every speaker I can get my hands on.”
The assembly was quiet.
Sheogorath smiled and announced, “Fortunately, I have an idea! And it's a crazy idea, the best kind of idea there is!”
“Go on, please,” Maddow requested.
“Well, you see... these Goppers...” Sheogorath explained. “They like to pass laws that benefit themselves. Tax cuts for the rich, estate taxes for their children, Punch-A-Hippie-In-The-Face Day, Democrats-Have-To-Bounce-on-Their-Asses Day, and the 'You Didn't Vote for a Republican, You Moron' tax.”
The reporters nodded.
Sheogorath grinned evilly and cackled. He seemed to growl, “So let's make it in their best interest to make abortions widely available.”
“Oh, shit,” Wood Jr. muttered. “That's an evil villain laugh.”
“That is is, Wood Jr.!” Sheogorath shouted with a wicked smile. “Haskill! I want you to assemble a platoon of Dark Seducers and Golden Saints, and head to Earth immediately! Impregnate every Gop leader! Give them twins! All that kicking in their bellies will make them wobble like a drunk Daedra!”
Haskill cleared his throat, then explained, “Lord Sheogorath, I don't think it's biologically possible to impregnate a male Earth Thing with twins.”
“Then give them triplets!” Sheogorath snapped. “Must I think of everything myself? If you're not going to use your brain, you could at least have the common courtesy to donate it for a mouth-watering brain pie!”
“Very good, sir,” Haskill responded with a nod, vanishing.
Bee unsteadily asked, “You're going to... impregnate the Gop?”
“Damn straight we are! Break out the cigars, and get ready to ship hundreds of jars of pickles and pizzas with Twizzlers and anchovies to your nation's capital! They're going to be Daddies and Mommies!” Sheogorath bragged.
“You can't impregnate the entire Gop!” Tapper protested.
“Of course I can, Tapper!” Sheogorath testily shouted. “I have lots of magic and no conscience whatsoever! Say... you look like your biological clock is ticking, Tapper. Ready to embrace a bundle of joy?”
“But... but...” Tapper stammered. “But that would be gang rape!”
Sheogorath scoffed and responded, “Then don't call it rape, Tapper! Call it sexual harassment!”
“But that's still a crime!” Tapper protested.
“Tapper,” Sheogorath grumbled, “I'm the Daedric Prince of Madness, not the Daedric Prince of Being Born Yesterday! You don't prosecute sexual harassment! You celebrate it! It's in every company! It's in most of your tales! It's on your magazine racks! And if the Gop gets their way, it will be in your Happy Meals! You don't treat sexual harassment as a crime, Tapper! Hell, you treat it as a damned job requirement! 'Please submit your resume, three professional references, and a half-dozen used bras. A-cups will not be considered for employment.”
“But this is madness!” Muir shouted.
“Muir, you're in the presence of the Daedric Prince of Madness,” Sheogorath explained testily. “If you wanted rationality and sense, you should have talked to your Greek Goddes, Adrestia. A bit plain, but she can really knock back the Cyrodill wine!”
“With all due respect, Lord Sheogorath,” Maddow interjected. “I wholeheartedly understand your frustration. But the United States of America is still a nation of laws and balance. Justice, and order.”
Sheogorath leaned close to Maddow and snarled, “Is that so, Maddow?”
Maddow fought the urge to tremble, holding her ground.
Sheogorath returned to Deverin, and took a deep breath. He then shouted, “'Sorry, Hillary! You got the most votes, but that walking toupee stand diddles every woman that's not on fire. And when he finds a woman on fire, he roasts marshmallows, then he diddles the ashes! So we're making him our king! Too bad, Hillary! You would have been queen if you had shagged the Chippendales!”
Sheogorath took another deep breath, then continued, “'Sorry, Merrick! We know that it's our job to question you, but we're invoking the 'No Grope, No Gavel' rule! We're going to give your seat to Judge Beer Keggerstand, who gets piss drunk, diddles women, and cries like a little boy that lost his marbles. Try again when you've knocked up a convent!”
Sheogorath took another deep breath, then shouted, “Sorry, Billy! You got straight A-s, but you didn't slap the teacher's ass once all year! You're going to have to repeat second grade!”
“Sheogorath mad makes more sense than anyone on Fox News sane,” Oliver commented.
Sheogorath sighed, “I'm glad those weasels didn't show up. “It's always 'Hillary this,' and 'Hillary that.' For crying out loud, what did Hillary do? Pee on every single one of them?”
“Lord Sheogorath... about the... seeding... of the Gop?” Bee asked.
“Oh, this is going to be tremendous fun!” Sheogorath exclaimed, clapping his hands together. “Once all the Goppers are pregnant, they'll shelve the trap laws faster than you can say, 'Harkon's haircut is horrible!' and open abortion clinics all over the place! There will be clinics in every mall, and the streets will be flooded with birth control! 'Would you like fries with your Plan B, Senator King?'”
Sheogorath laughed, then continued, “And it's going to get even better! Once the rest of the men start getting pregnant, the whole face of abortion will change! The men will make competitions and reality shows about it! They'll brag about their scars! And abortion doctors will be celebrities instead of prey! 'Dr. Montgomery? I'm a huge fan of your work. Can you sign my autograph book, please? Make it out to Pope Francis.'”
“Well, it will be nice to be rid of those trap laws,” Maddow muttered.
“Now that I think of it,” Oliver mused. “Pregnant Republicans is going to be comedy gold. I'll be able to send my kids to college. Hell, I might be able to buy my kids a college!”
“That's the spirit, Oliver!” Sheogorath cheered. “It's like on Oprah, only insane and creepy! You get a baby! And you get a baby! And you get a baby!”
Sheogorath laughed, then wiped his brow. “Now, that was a laugh and a half,” he exclaimed. “But you Earth Things should head back to Earth before the expecting President Trump has hormone swings and declares war on the NAACP.”
“But the NAACP isn't a nation!” Tapper exclaimed.
“Oh, come now, Tapper!” Sheogorath shouted, rolling his eyes. “Trump doesn't let things like laws, common sense, or self-preservation get between him and a colossally bad idea! Hell, he'd wage war against his own children if he thought he could get rich in the process! 'Marines, you must liberate Donald Trump Jr.'s foot from the rest of his body! For he who controls athlete's foot controls the world!”
“I... can't contest that,” Tapper admitted.
“You really shouldn't, Tapper.” Sheogorath responded. “Be sure to come back next month! I've got some great ideas about that infestation of White Supreme Pizzas you've got!”
“You mean... White Supremacists?” Wood Jr. asked.
“For now,” Sheogorath muttered darkly.
Sheogorath took a deep breath. “Well, thanks for coming. Be sure to get my good side! Now piss off,” he said.
Sheogorath waved his arms, and the reporters were teleported back to their respective studios.
They were still wearing Sheogorath's costumes.