Discord is slouching in his chair, eyes glazed and fangs exposed from a grin as his ill kept finger repeatedly presses the button on the remote control while lovely women sings their operas. All around him are speakers, television sets, and phonographs, all talking and singing over each other. Picture after picture, talking head after talking head, sound after sound, madness circling and swinging to and fro and all around with each sound fuzzing and snapping and trying to compete with the beauty of long dead voices.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap goes the finger on the button. The lights splatter his shadow and the shadows of many others against the wall and floor. Screaming, tugging at their hairs, curling, laughing, dancing, clawing. All jerking from every appearance of a laughing man, a crying woman, a crazy child running in circles, eyes, lips, shushes. A plane, spinning and breaking into a shards to be swallowed by more shadows. All there. All flicking on and off, away and back, darkness and chaos.

Tap. Tap. Tap. The never ending tapping. The never ending cycle. The never ending noise! The never ending faces. The forever dancing shadows. The chaos of it all, all caused from something as simple as pushing a button. The same button many many times. All from refusing to let voices speak coherently or faces to be seen. It is putting him in the clouds.

Clouds!

Fluffy goodness so high up they see problems but not feel them. Always working to block the heat, to give coolness, to give rain. Always helping while oblivious to the true troubles beneath them.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

If only he could be a cloud.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

If only he can see, but not feel.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

If only reality did not exist.

Discord eyes inexplicably open, and he finds himself where he was last. Sitting in his chair with his reflection staring back at him from the blackness of the monitor before him. A deep inhale and slow exhale later, and he runs his fingers through his messy hair. On his desk is his map, his paperwork, and his cookies and milk, and after a quick scan he sees nothing out of the ordinary, so he looks back at his map and stares at it with absolutely nothing on his mind. Complete and total silence in his thoughts.

Then his screen flashes on and a silhouette of a man stares at him, and Discord sighs and sluggishly puts on his headset.

“It's too late to talk, sweetie, go back to bed,” says Discord.

“Belial, we need to talk. Now,” says Abaddon.

“Can it wait?”

“Do you have something more important than your boss?”

“Well...”

“Your operations have provided very little fruit, therefore I am sending in my most trusted operatives to ensure that everything gets done.”

Discord tuts. “Oh, Abaddon, my dear friend in the shadows, where art thou's patience?”

“I have been more patient than you realize.”

Discord leans in his chair and teepees his hands, eyeing the screen with a wolfish smile. “Or maybe I do know and just have enough guts to tell you you still have no patience.”

There is a moment of pause, which Discord takes to check his milk. It is empty much to his dismay.

“The operatives will arrive shortly. You best be prepared,” says Abaddon. “And if you call me sweetie again I will rip out your tongue and shove it up your ass.”

“Relax,” says Discord with a flamboyant wave of his hand. “No more sweeties and I'll have things rolling by the time they get here... Which reminds me. When will they get here?”

Abaddon's screen flashes to black, leaving only Discord's smile to stare back at him. A moment later, he huffs and reaches into his desk to pull out a large phone. He plugs the phone into the wall, flips the body open to reveal a keypad and screen, and after typing in a command a shield appears on the said screen. Discord then dials his desired number and sits calmly in his chair with one leg draped over the other and his eyes investigating his fingernails.

“Thank you for calling the Happy Tree House of Fun. This is Sunset, how can I help you?” says a girl with a very disgruntled, hates life and everyone in it tone.

“Is Topsy Turvy there? Its her old man,” says Discord.

“One moment.” The phone hits the table on the other end and Sunset yells: “Hey, Screwball, you got a phone call! … You really got to tell your dad to stop calling this place.”

“I know, I'm sorry,” says another girl with a honeyed voice. “Hi, daddy!”

Discord grins. “Topsy, toss your hat. We're moving.”