A/N Yay! My first crack fic! I have to give most of the credits to my bestest friend Vanchanaut7 for bullying me into writing this. Truth be told,
I never write unless I am asked to, so if you want me to write, ask me to! I never know what to say in these Author's Notes... So... Enjoy!

"Pleeease?" Vancha begged Crepsley, his dirty face looking like a filthy baby's butt in the

dying sunlight.

'"Not in a million years," Larten huffed and glared at the smelly Vampire Prince.

"Why do you hate me, Crepsley?"

"I do not."

"Why won't you let me, then?"

"You would die, March."

"No I wouldn't! I have epic not-dying powers!"

"For the love of Gods, Vancha! I said NO!"

"Please?"

"No."

"Why?"

"I just told you why!"

"Yes, but I don't understand how it could kill me."

"The act would not kill you. I would."

"Why?"

"Because I said so."

"Why did you say so?"

"You are annoying me, Prince."

"Good. You deserve to be annoyed, vampire."

"That does not make sense. You are a vampire as well."

"That doesn't make sense! You are also a vampire!"

"I just stated that."

"Too bad. I said it second!" Vancha stuck out his tongue and stormed off, back to Vampire Mountain. Larten rolled his eyes and headed off to his coffin for a short hour of rest.

Later, in the dining hall, Larten sat in his usual spot in front of Vancha. He muttered a quick hello and dashed off to find a vampire who would give him something other than bat broth, which he claimed "didn't agree with him". He returned looking triumphant, holding a beef steak wrapped in bacon, stuffed with ham, and lathered with chicken gravy. No, he didn't have a plate, and Darren followed him on all fours, licking up the fallen gravy. He was happy to eat anything other than bat broth, even if it meant getting strange diseases from all of the unwashed feet that had trampled through the hall.

Mr. Crepsley sat down and just before he stuffed the entire thing into his mouth, Vancha interrupted him.

"Drop the... the... the... the meaty thing wrapped in other meaty things, stuffed with another meaty thing, dripping with sticky meaty liquidy things!" Vancha stammered, trying to look like he knew what he was talking about. Larten looked at him quizzically, not exactly understanding what the dense Prince had been speaking of. Only the strength of pure will prevented Darren from snatching the meaty chunk from his mentor and sprinting outside to eat the oozing hunk of meaty things wrapped in other meaty things, stuffed with another meaty thing, dripping with sticky meaty liquidy things in the peace of solitude.

What is solitude?, Darren wondered to himself. It sounds like such a sophisticated word... What is sophisticated? It sounds like such a solitary word... Waaait... What is solitude? And how did I just congugate it to make it solitary if I don't know what it is? Huh?What is congugate? And how do you use it in a sentence? Waaait... Didn't I just use it in a sentence? How did I do that? Darren ran off to ponder the events of the past few seconds. What does ponder mea- Shut it, Darren. Nobody loves you.

"I said: Drop the meaty thing wrapped in other meaty things, stuffed with another meaty thing, dripping with sticky meaty liquidy things. Now," he added, as Mr. Crepsley hissed protectively and held the meat hunk closer. Larten reluctantly dropped the thing onto the table and glared up at the Vampire Prince. Vancha March then did something simultaneously terrible, and impressive. He ate the meaty thing wrapped in other meaty things, stuffed with another meaty thing, dripping with sticky meaty liquidy things. In one bite. In front of Larten. Without chewing.

Larten screamed and leaped across the table to throttle the smirking Prince.

"Wait," Vancha said with a surprising amount of authority, saving his neck from being squeezed painfully until he died a slow and agonizing death by strangulation. Mr. Crepsley slowly sat back down in his chair, nearly squishing Darren, who had come back from his meditation with no more answers than he had when he left. Larten eyed Vancha coldly, "What the h- was that for, Sire?" He asked, his words dripping with metaphorical venom.

"For earlier, Larten. You were unfair and threatened to kill me," the Prince stated smugly, crossing his arms. Larten's jaw dropped and his hands twitched.

"You ate my meal just to prove a point!"Larten roared the last word, spit molecules flying out of his mouth screaming, "Wheeeeeeeee!"

"You wouldn't give me what I wanted, jerkface."

What's a jerkfa-

Shut it, Darren.

"You ate my meat thing wrapped in other meaty things, stuffed with another meaty thing, dripping with sticky meaty liquidy things just because I wouldn't let you dress me in a school girl uniform from Bleach!" he yelled incredulously, oblivious to the uproar in the hall all around him. Seriously, it's quite funny to picture Larten in an Anime school girl uniform.

Mr. Crepsley in Bleach cosplay? What's tha-

Go away, Darren

Larten stormed away, suddenly aware of the many eyes on his back. Laughter rang in his ears and followed him in his dreams for the rest of his life.

Dreams? What are thos- I'm going to smack you, Darren. Shut. Up.