Brigits_Flame March Entry 04 - Strength in Numbers
So I was going to continue the story of Alfie, the lil’ accountant demon. And, you know! I will! I really will. Next week, we’ll have more of Alfie. But for this week, I really thought it would be a lot more entertaining if I simply told you what I did this weekend.
For the past few months, I have secretly been moonlighting as the king of a small nation.
I am not kidding. I know that sounds like the beginning to a Typically David fiction story, but really. Check it out. I present to you King Geeber von Kleeber, of Washingtonville Universityshire:
Yeah - that’s me in the center. Allow me to explain.
It all began in November with the KWUR date auction. Kwur is my university’s little radio station, of which I am the Director of Alternative Content, among other things. Back in November we had a pledge drive, which we called Hustle Week. And it was my idea to throw in a KWUR Executive Staff Date Auction, because, oh, why not?
Rick, our beloved metal director, jumped right on board. He is a fantastic person (he’s got the green wig in the picture), and his idea was, instead of auctioning himself as a date, he would auction off an adventure. “Win an adventure of your choice with Rick!” was how it went. There was a bidding war. Rick is renowned for his imagination, and his ability to organize people. The bidding war went on and on until people formed blocs and joined together; there was a “Rick Gets Arrested” adventure, and a “Fairy-Tale” adventure, and a “Meaning-of-Life” adventure. Eventually all of these were subsumed into one another and it became “The Fairy-Tale/Meaning of Life Adventure”. Rick immediately began plotting, and created a facebook profile with the name Sir Kensington Lexington, Astral-Faced Dude from Beyond the Veil, Advisor to the King, and Pacifist.
“David,” he said to me one afternoon. “I need to ask you a very confidential question.”
And I said, “Sure.”
And he said, “Are you the man that would be King?”
And I said, “What the fuck are you talking about?”
And he explained. These five students that had bid 100 dollars, all told, on the Fairy Tale Meaning of Life Adventure had been sent five mysterious letters. Each with one fifth of one mysterious letter. They had to get the pieces together and undo the cipher that made the letter kind of hard to read. The letter was from King Geeber von Kleeber, King of Washingtonville Universityshire. And Rick needed to cast the King.
I said, “Yeah, hell yeah!” and started thinking about my costume. Rick continued to recruit people until I had a nice little cabinet: Whorlock the Lonely, my court sorcerer, and Marduk the Court Page.
Here was the story:
Horrible Agents of The Netherworld had stolen the Meaning of Life, a sacred relic of which the kings of Washington Universityshire had guarded for eons. I reached out to these, the Adventurers, such that they would come to my kingdom’s aid in its hour of dire need. We had heard of their exploits, but in order to fight the Netherworld, they would have to train under the tutelage of Whorlock the Lonely, and learn how to channel their talents towards good. I (by which I mean Rick) sent them that five-part letter, and also several packets of a Mysterious White Powder (FLOUR. Flour.), meant to be rubbed on the fingers. It was Magic Finger Laser Powder, which gave the Adventurers the power to shoot deadly bolts of energy from their pointed fingers, merely by saying the magic words “Pyew, pyew!”
Rick had done a lot of research on his friends, and so he began crafting challenges for each of them - challenges that would reflect their strengths and their abilities, and make them feel, well, good about themselves! It was and is a wonderful idea.
Over Winter Break I assembled my costume: the Staff of Kings (the, um, the LED headlamp tied to a Swiffer pole), the Zebra Pelt (made of felt), and the Ermine-lined Cloak (also made of felt, and a bolt of I-don’t-remember-what-kind-of-fabric).
One cold night in January, I knighted the adventurers, which, believe you me, was a fantastic experience. I had never met four out of the five adventurers, and so I had diligently studied their faces and learned their names; they had no idea who I was, and so I called them forth, one by one, and knighted them.
“Do you accept this challenge?”
“I do.”
“Then kneel, Michael. And arise, SIR Michael!”
And on and on in that vein:
“Then kneel, Katie. And arise, SIR Katie!”
How often do you get to say you spent your weekend knighting people?
Rick recruited, and recruited, and recruited, and pretty soon he had about 80 Netherworld Agents. The Netherworld Agents were only required for one night, and that night was this last evening, Saturday, March 28th.
The Adventurers met with Whorlock and Marduk and me at 6 PM. They had been trained by the three of us over three or four sessions over the past few months, and they were ready to serve the Kingdom in whatever wise they could.
It was cold. It was beginning to mist, and the clouds had overcast the sky; we had really, really hoped that it would clear up, but the forecast had snow, even, for the evening. In fact, that’s what it’s doing as I write this.
We awaited their approach.
And finally, the bell struck 6, and they arrived.
“What ho, Adventurers!” I said. They knelt before me. “The weather bodes ill for our purposes tonight; the Forces of the Netherworld have evidently conspired with the storm gods, and, well. They want to kill us. But we knew that.” They nodded, and snickered severally.
“Cease your titters!” I cried. “This is no laughing matter. The very fate of the Kingdom hangs in the balance.” They grew solemn.
And then as I spoke of the grave dangers facing the Kingdom, the two leaders of the Netherworld Agents approached.
Every Netherworld Agent had to wear all black, have lightning bolts on his cheeks, and wear a silly hat. These were Agents S and J, with their terrifying finger-lasers (oh yes, they had them too.)
Agents S and J taunted the Adventurers, and said that they would never win back the Meaning of Life; they had challenges to beat, and they were impossible! The Meaning of Life would belong forever to the Netherworld. They presented the Adventurers with their first challenge, cackled, and left.
We read the challenge.
Then the adventurers were off on their merry way! Each of them was assigned to a different adventure, and the five of them went and defeated each in turn. A photographer accompanied them. I did not.
Katie loves trivia and studies German, so Rick had her fight a Trivia Hydra, which she defeated with the Sword of Knowledge (and her German vocab skills): every time she got a question wrong, it grew another head.
Michael is a poet; he had to woo two princesses at once on two separate balconies. One, Princess Narcissa, loved only herself, and the other, Princess Depressa, loved only being miserable.
Peter is a fine guitarist; he had a guitar duel with The Devil. Yes. The Devil.
Carli is a theater major; she had to sing a duet of which she only knew half - she had only seen the lyrics for her part, and had to figure out the syncopated lyrics while singing the song with an Agent of the Netherword.
And Laura. Laura does improv, and thus did she fare most nobly in the arena of tournament-style rap battle against Sir Rappington of Rappingshire AKA Hip-hop Mcdogblocks, Aka Natty Light (!).
Then it was off to the final challenge; the riddles of the Trash Trolls, who had been holding on to the Meaning of Life. The Adventurers trounced them soundly and returned to me and my court in the main quad of the university.
“We’ve done it, your Highness!” they cried. “We have the Meaning of Life!” It was a sealed manila envelope. Marduk and Whorlock and I leapt for joy.
“By the 28 gods of our Pantheon!” I said. “I can scarcely believe it! I am overjoyed! Oh, well done, Adventurers, WELL DONE!”
And of course, “Well done” was the signal for all of the Netherworld Agents to come streaming out of secret nooks and crannies in the quad. There were, yes, about 80 of them, all dressed in black, with silly hats on. But they looked kind of scary.
“Form a circle!” I shouted. “Backs together! Hold your fire until my mark!”
Agents S and J mocked us yet again. They claimed that the judging of Laura’s rap battle was rigged, and that we’d have to give up the Meaning of Life.
I looked to the Adventurers. “We will never give up the Meaning of Life, right?” I said. They all nodded vigorously. I looked back to Jesse-the-Netherworld Agent.
“WE WILL DIE FIRST.”
Agent J doffed his cowboy hat. “So be it.” He paused. “OPEN FIRE!”
And the entire quad exploded into laser fire. Nearly a hundred college students running around, screaming “pyew, pyew!” at the top of their lungs, ducking, tumbling, rolling on the wet ground. It had ceased to rain, but the sky looked oppressive and cloudy.
The Adventurers dispatched the Netherworld Agents with stunning accuracy; they each fell to the ground in turn, clutching their entrails as they died horrific, drawn-out deaths. Agent S fell right by me.
When it was over, and the agents had ceased to twitch and wail on the field of battle, I congratulated them. “War is an ugly business,” I said. “But it must needs be done to protect the Meaning of Life.”
And as I was proclaiming that I did not know precisely how to thank the brave and noble adventurers, Agent S rose from the ground, and with a final effort, shot me in the heart.
Everyone gasped, and immediately shot the crap out of Agent S. She fell limp to the grass.
The Adventurers lowered me gently to the ground as I clutched my chest. “Marduk,” I said to my page. “Marduk, I am slain. Take my staff of office.”
“No, your Highness! No! I can’t! You’re not dying!”
“I am, Marduk. It was bad luck. Take this, my crown, and this, my staff, and swear upon them both that you will uphold the Constitution of Washingtonville Universityshire, and the Meaning of Life.”
“I will! I do!”
“Adventurers,” I said, looking weak, “Take the Meaning of Life as your reward. Marduk will direct you. You… truly were the Chosen Ones.”
And then I died! Marduk put her cap over my face, adjusted her new crown, and shed a tear. Then she quoted Hamlet.
“Now cracks a noble heart. Good night, sweet prince. And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.”
I am informed that, at the very moment that I took the laser to the chest, it actually began to rain. I realized it was raining eventually, but I had been dead for a few minutes by then.
The adventurers, led by a very somber Kensington Lexington, left the quad and retired into the Hall of Knowledge, where each of the five adventurers was given a personalized envelope, each containing a different Meaning of Life, known only to Rick. The Adventurers were encouraged not to share their messages, and then two policemen burst out of nowhere, and arrested Rick, frog-marching him out of the building.
And you thought he had forgotten the Rick Gets Arrested Adventure.
Rick forgets nothing. Not when he has Strength in Numbers.