Long Live The King
rating: +135+x

My name is Dr. King, and you know what I hate more than anything ever invented by mankind? Apple seeds. They have always been the bane of my miserable existence. God damn, piece of shit apple seeds. Never whole apples, or maybe even sliced apples. Just the seeds, going everywhere I go and ruining all my plans. Finally get a chance to test a big SCP? Apple seeds. Working in my office? Seeds in the drawers. No matter where I go, apple seeds.

But I'm going to change all that. For the past six weeks, I have locked myself alone in my office. The apple seeds have been slowly filling it up, and they're up to my neck now. Tonight is the night I let those demon seeds win. Those hell-spawned capsules of hatred have finally broken me, because I cannot deal with one more goddamn apple seed.

I hope they don't have apples in hell.


Dr. King groaned, as he was prone to do when waking up, and scrunched his eyes. Was he dead? Was this… after? Didn't feel very after. In fact, his face felt like it was resting upon a familiarly textured surface.

Apple seeds.

Dr. King's legs scrambled for ground as he sprung from a prone state, sending apple seeds scattering across the seedy ground.

Absolute despair and anguish washed over him in waves, sending him tumbling back to the seeded earth. "No! Fuck! It's not supposed to- goddammit why won't you leave me?"

Preoccupied as he was with lament and despair, Dr. King failed to notice the celestial figure approaching him from on high. It was an apple, a whole one, with leaves as green as the sea and a shimmer surpassed by none. It had one sticker, affixed to a side, which shone a golden "A" shimmering across the landscape.

"Rise, King."

Dr. King flipping around, and his jaw would have dropped had it not already been hanging agape, swinging like a pinata in the wind. "You… but…"

"MY SON… YOUR FINAL TIME HAS COME," boomed the giant flying apple.

Dr. King blinked. "My time? What… the hell are you talking about?"

A shimmer of bright red liberated itself from the apple and spread over the land, blasting everything that had once subscribed to other colors on the spectrum into a brilliant, vibrant red.

"THERE IS NO TIME TO WASTE. YOU WERE BORN TO CREATE APPLES. NOW, YOUR TIME HAS COME. THE WORLD IS IN CRISIS, AND THE ONLY SOLUTION IS APPLES."

"… What."

Suddenly, King's mind was filled with images. He was riding an apple chariot into Site-19, and all the senior staff were apples. They bowed down to him, and readied the apple throne for him to sit in. Panning out, the site was apples. Slices made up every wall, and the head of every researcher was replaced with rotund, healthy apples. There was no danger, because skips were apples.

The whole world was apple.

"SO, YOU SEE, IT IS- WHERE ARE YOU GOING."

King was already gone. "NO! I am not going to be the king of the FUCKING APPLES."

"BUT IT IS YOUR DEST-"

King turned to the floating apple which called itself his father. His face was even redder than the world that surrounded him. "FUCK DESTINY."

And then, Dr. King was apples no more.


How's he holding up, doc?

Well, we've recovered about 765 apple seeds from his trachea, in addition to the couple thousand we got from the rest of his orifices.

Are they still cleaning out his office?

Yeah, we'll be digging seeds out of there for a month. Poor guy.

Man, he looked so pissed when they brought him in there… but now, heck, he looks happier than I've seen in awhile.

Makes you wonder what he's thinking, doesn't it?

Whatever it is, at least it's making him happy…

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