The Lord of the Lords, Part the First

The Lord of the Lords
By Brady Thornton and Ben Rowe


Forward
This story grew over telling. Ironically enough, this tale has never been told and couldn't have grown, which makes that first sentence, needless to say, a useless and meaningless one. There once was a great and all-powerful Lord of the Lords named Lord Pastorius, King of the Throne to Jargovia, an English-like state off the eastern coast of Oceania. All in all, the Lord of the Lords was a man with great power, wanted by many.
Before his death, he bequeathed his royalty to his great-great-great-great-great-great cousin's grandsons, who, at the time, were unalive and were not even known whether or not they would exist. Either the case, being the stupid Lord he was, Pastorius hastefully (he had been given ten minutes to live) and stupidly bequeathed his throne to two unknown inheritants who would supposedly become heirs one day.
This is their story.

Book The First

Prologue

A lone castle sat on the pallid hills of Jargovia, standing guard over the tall green grass. It was large and sturdy, reinforced with mortar imported from the rich valleys of Serpentonia, home of the rabbit. This is not the castle where Pastorius was. He was in the castle to the direct south. There were two hills. The other castle was in ruins. It had been attacked several times as a use for a "practice attack" castle, as its defence was utterly futile and weak; for the only person of worth was the Lord of the Lords: Pastorius. Although Pastorius possessed no real powers, he liked to think that he did. Most thought that he was rather inept and his only use was talking in a fancy royal dialect. This was only fact, however. Opinion's what really counts.
Long story short, Pastorius was a fair and even Lord. He annually submitted his Lord-stock inventory and routinely filled out an armoury-room inspection card?-he was on top of his game. He would inevitably fail, however, because all great historical figures eventually diminish and somewhat seem to be the sympathy of the next Lords who would precede them, only because men who knew they would grow up to be a Lord knew that there would have been only one Lord to look up to. Pastorius' time was running short. He started to feel the effects of a very uncommon thing at the time and age?-ageing. (Many men died in battle so the topic of aging wasn't very well studied upon). Pastorius' dying hands hastefully wrote a quick and effortless will. It was as follows:

I, Lord Jack. O Pastorius, on my day of death, Twenty-First of the month of my death, bequeath all of my possessions to my great-great-great-great-great-great cousin's grandsons, who, if they turn out to be two fit men, shall both rule my land. They shall be named Lester and Larry. My beloved English-like state Jargovia shall be split into two unequal pieces (the bigger going to the richer brother) and shall be ruled by both. In the event that this shall not happen, I sadly wish to have my beloved English-like state destroyed by willpower of the Druids, who, one day, may be freed by the touch of a nincompoop. If willpower shall not be impressive enough to destroy my beloved English-like state, it shall be donated to the Children's wish foundation and used as a giant playground, which must be built of copper. If copper shall not be yet discovered, a copper-like compound will be used at the discretion of the Head Druid. Shall the Druid not be able to confide himself with a worthy condition of a cheap compound to use, my beloved English-like state will be turned into an amusement park. In the event of a lack of amusement-park-building materials, the Head Druid shall?-

And that was Lord Pastorius' will. Pastorius died at the age of twenty-eight.
*
Years later, (twenty to be exact), Pastorius' great-great-great-great-great-great cousin's grandsons were born. They were twins. Fate? No. It turned out to be a medical mix-up, and in fact, the two twins were not Pastorius' great-great-great-great-great-great cousin's grandsons, but rather two completely normally stupid children of the unknown. They randomly appeared in a hospital bed.
After years of growing up amid sarcasm, Larry and Lester proved themselves worthy blacksmiths when they accidentally killed the only blacksmith in town and had to pretend to be the new interns. This proved disastrous when a King from France demanded that they fashion him a worthy sword and threatened to behead them. Larry and Lester had to flee to the next local town, the acclaimed Jargovia. This is where they learned about their royalties.
Larry and Lester were only ten years of age, yet they had already attained royalty status. The two brothers always wanted to be royalty, partly due to snobby genes. Also, it was because at heart they were utterly and truly evil. Pure evil, in fact. The whole "good boy" act was just a cover; a phase.
The day Larry and Lester became Count & Duke was a very forgettable day. Absolutely nothing of significance happened whatsoever; the crown-bearer, Archimedes, had forgotten the crowns (he was busy bathing) and was beheaded by whoever it was that was in charge. No celebration took place. At last, Lester and Larry were drunk with power, each ruling around one-half of the English-like state Jargovia.

Part the First
I

Fifteen Years Later…

Throughout history, there were a number of famous evil people, 'baddies' if you will. First, there was Lord Morgoth, the God of all Evil. Then there was Morgoth's servant, Lord Sauron, the ruler of middle-earth until a little hobbit and his little friends defeated him. Yes, we all know the basic foundations of evil. But a long long time after Lord Sauron's time, there lived a very unpredictable Lord. A Lord with much power, much wealth, and enough evil henchmen to control a small island, which was what he first did do declare his "evilitisms". This evil man's name was none other than the Evil Lord Fing, ruler of Quarter-Earth. He lived and thrived mostly underground, and mainly came up for nuts in the winter, but other than that, was pure evil. His secret underground lair was right below a foul-mouthed crazy wizard's shanty. The wizard is insignificant to this tale, however.
Evil Lord Fing was a man of great mysticism. He was known throughout the free world as the bringer of the apocalypse. This is all poppycock, however, in contrast to the events that were unfolding. Fing was getting tired of the nutshell he had been in his whole life. His throne room consisted of a big grey chamber with evil henchmen arbitrarily doing whatever it was that would make them seem busy; most of the time it was simply turning a big black knob. Fing would sit at the back of the room in his big grey throne, wearing his decorative ring of evilitisms, grinning and not saying a word. This, of course, was the typical day in the life of Fing.
The evil planning took place at around four o'clock, when his henchmen took a break from arbitrarily turning knobs and brought him his English-style tea.
Fing would stand up, measuring at about three and a half feet tall, and get his walker from the side of the wall; for he was a weak man at twenty-three. His grey beard obviously gave away that he was some sort of sinister character; for it was trimmed in a devilish-like way, almost so evil that on sight of it, one would freeze if there were any shred goodness in their heart. And then, in his high-pitched, bat-like voice, Fing would screech, "Please lower the tray, Alfred. You have done well," and accept the tea.
Typically, Fing would get really mad at Alfred for some random reason. Maybe the tea would be hot. Or too cold. Or not tea-y enough. Or too tea-y enough. It was as if Fing was feeling sad about himself so he made fun of others?-the root of all evil. I mean seriously, what kind of old man bitches about damn tea? Alfred would take all of Fing's bitching, and then put the tray down, and continue arbitrarily doing whatever if was he was doing before the old clock in the corner of the barren room announced that it was four o'clock?-tea time.
After his tea, Fing would walk ever so slowly to the other side of the room and sit down at the table, which had been lowered to match his figure. He would grab a pencil from the pencil dish, which was painted red because it would have looked happy had it not been because Fing wanted an evil look when he was decorating the place. Then, with his long, bony arm, which looked as if God had just put the arm bone in place and used some sort of tack-welding method to keep it in place (although it didn't work), he would draw out some sort of battle scene, which usually had nothing to do with what he was planning. Some days he did this to make it look as if he were actually doing something, because most days he was not.
Some evil-planning sessions were better than others. One day he thought of something so incredibly evil that it was pleasant. The point is, some days were really uneven. One particular day when he was planning, however, he stumbled upon a fact in the history book that was coincidentally open on the table for no apparent reason:

"Along with great power, comes great responsibility"
?-Ben Parker.

"Oops, wrong quote," said Fing. He looked more down on the page.

Druids a victim of unexpected mage powers
"…The druid colony faced a big disappointment when a mage came out of nowhere and started making fun of them. The druids had no choice but to cry and pout and carry on. The mage finally closed by putting a spell on them: they are now apparently weak to the force of evil. That's right, evil. Who the hell curses someone and makes them weak to evil? I mean, seriously! You have to be some sort of shallow-minded twit to come up with that sort of a dense retort…."

Fing got an idea. Suddenly the phone rang. "Hello?" said Fing. "Hello? ?-Hello? ?-Who is this? ?-Hello?" Fing hung up. "Ah," he said. "I forgot, nobody else has a phone. It must've rung out of pure randomness," he concluded. "I want to kill someone," he added; for he had the habit of saying things pleasant, but then corrected himself by saying something evil.
"What do you mean, O Mighty Fing?" asked one of his henchmen.
"Do not refer to me as mighty; for the only mighty person in this room is I. Off with his head," commanded Fing. A giant oversized laser beam came from out of nowhere and killed the henchmen. One of the things about Fing was that he was dreadfully and mind-numbingly dense. "I say we kidnap the Druids and hold them hostage for no apparent reason and see how we can go from there. What do you think, Alfred? Alfred? Alfred? Alfred? ALFRED? WHERE THE HELL IS ALFRED, ALFRED?"
"Uhh?-" said a henchman.
"Uh what, you bowel!" screamed Fing.
"Uhh?-it's just that you just had Alfred's head chopped off, sir," claimed the nervous henchmen.
"How long have you been with me, grasshopper?" asked Fing.
"Uhhh?-I got transferred here from your other location, and that was about six months ago?-"
"Are you making fun of my corporation?"
"No, sir, I was merely answering the question that you?-"
"Off with his head," said Fing. Yet again, a giant oversized laser beam came from out of nowhere and killed the second henchmen. "Can someone clean this mess up?" asked Fing.
"Uh?-you just killed the janitor," said an old and trustworthy henchman.
"Oh, well hire a new one, eh? This place is starting to smell." Fing continued his planning. He really was quite evil.

II
It was springtime in Jargovia. It was early in the morning. Duke Lester the Nth of Larryington and Count Larry of Lestershire were sitting in their bunk beds; this was rather ridiculous and immature as they were twenty-five years old and still didn't even have any females in their lives.
Larry, the first person to wake up, awoke with a start. He had had a dream, and had woken up with a cold sweat. It was a bad dream. Larry decided he'd get out of bed and start getting ready for the day. It was Royalty Day in Jargovia; it was this day Lord Pastorius had died (and had also written the effortless will). During Royalty Day, usually there would be some sort of play re-enacting the events of Pastorius' life, which pretty much consisted of an array of wenches doing things to a happy actor. (Seriously.) There were, of course, funny times, and there were, of course sad times, but the saddest part and happiest part were both at the end, and at the same time: the death.
Larry was wearing his lion pyjamas, which made no sense, because he didn't own any lion pyjamas. "Oh damn, I'm naked," thought Larry as he struggled to find some sort of convenient robe. Larry was the kind of man you'd be able to spot as the kind of person you'd rather hire in a circus over a bearded lady. He wasn't ugly per say, but anyone who stared at him started to get an uneasy feeling?-almost that of throwing up. It seemed that Larry could never please any maiden with his looks. It worked out for the better, however, because Larry himself didn't actually want a maiden. He preferred the single life, which pretty much consisted of getting drunk every night. It also helped that he was all-powerful and could pretty much get out of any tight situation he might be in?-such as scandal. Yes, Larry had had his fair share of scandals.
He ruffled his hair. It was really quite long and shaggy. Particles of dandruff loosely feathered through the air as he did so, landing on the duvet that he had moved around in his sleep the night before. Larry burped. He wasn't a fat man, nor was he slim; but man, he knew how to stuff a few meals down his throat. Larry walked over to the corner of the room and got a bucket of fresh water. You'd think he had gotten it to drink, but instead he walked over to where the beautiful Lester was sleeping and dumped it all over him.
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" screamed Lester, his voice full of rage. You could obviously tell that Lester had intended on getting at the least a few more hours of sleep. Lester still remained composed, and stood up in his bed, his head dripping with the now filthy water (the last time Lester had showered was the day after Larry had showered?-which was never).
Lester stood up. "Good morning, ye brethren; hath ye woken thy up for thy day?" Or hath ye vainly woken thy up for mere pleasure?" asked Lester, who was obviously more educated than his slack-off brother.
"Say what now?"
"Never mind. I have a special day planned for you."
"And that would be what? Another day of drinking?"
"No, but that would be a good suggestion. We're going to go to the local school and help the schoolchildren learn, just like we did when we were young."
Suddenly, Larry remembered all too well that day when he had first learned the art of talking back.
***
The school bell rang. Larry, now twelve years old, entered the doors of the stone school, which sat about five kilometres south of the ruined castle. Today was Monday, the anti-epitome of school days?-why couldn't all school days be Fridays?
"Hello class; today we're going to learn about a branch of mathematics known as addition. Can anyone tell me what they think addition is? How about Larry." Said the teacher, Ms. Longbottom (Yes, the teacher was teased; the schoolchildren would have to have been fools not to have taken advantage of such a beautiful name...and yes, that was sarcastic). Larry wasn't currently in the classroom. The door burst open.
"Larry. Late again, I see. Fill out the tardy slip in the corner of the room."
"?-But I w-w-wasn't t-tardy Mrs. L-Longbottom," said Larry, his voice still shivering from the cold.
"Sure you weren't. What's you're excuse this time?"
A spark of sarcasm lit in Larry's head. "Well, you see, I was late because the bell rang before I got here," said Larry.
"You used that stupid excuse yesterday, Larry; now please sit down."
"But we didn't come to school yesterday, so I couldn't have used that excuse."
"Well then you used it the day before that."
"But the day before that was a Saturday, Ms. Longbottom. I couldn't have said it then, either."
"Fine then, you used it the day before that one," replied Ms. Longbottom sternly.
"?-Interviews"
"WHAT DOES IT TAKE FOR A LITTLE SCHOOLBOY LIKE YOURSELF TO SIT DOWN IN YOUR DAMN DESK WITHOUT HAVING TO ARGUE WITH YOUR TEACHER ABOUT EVERY LITTLE THING, HUH? WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME I ARGUED WITH YOU ABOUT HOW MUCH PASTE YOU HAVE, OR HOW MUCH PAPER YOU HAVE, HUH? DO YOU THINK IT'S COOL TO ARGUE WITH A HIGHER AUTHORITY, YOU LITTLE BRAT? HMM? I'LL TELL YOU WHAT. YOU SIT YOUR LITTLE ASS DOWN IN THE DAMN DESK AND I'LL FORGET ABOUT THIS LITTLE INCIDENT. SHUT UP, DON'T SAY ANYTHING, AND JUST DO WHATEVER I TELL YOU!" screamed Ms. Longbottom.
That was the last day Ms. Longbottom taught a class.
***
Larry sighed. Those were the days. That year, Larry got four teachers fired before the principal realised that it was Larry all along.
"Get ready, Larry, we have to leave soon," hushed Lester.
"It doesn't matter anyways, we'll probably end up not going in the prospect of the way you and I function."
"Oh, you and I were a team years ago, but we're separate men now. Get your clothes on, and let's go. NOW."
Larry and Lester finally left the castle. (A new one had been built). As they were leaving through the front door, they noticed a poster that had been posted on the wall.
DRUID COLONY MERCILESSLY KIDNAPPED BY FING
~REWARD OFFERED TO THE BRAVE MEN WHO RESCUE
THE KIDNAPPED DRUIDS (ABOUT 50, TOTAL). ASK FOR
DIRECTIONS ON WHERE TO FIND EVIL LORD FING'S LAIR
WE ARE TOO NERVOUS TO GO AND RESCUE THEM OURSELVES~
-REWARD IS 10,000,000 UNITS OF CURRENCY*-
SEE REDRICK, COUSEL BUILDING #1138, BLOCK 7

*SEE CURRENCY NAMING CONTEST, TWO ADS TO THE LEFT

"Whoa! Imagine what we could do with ten million units of currency!" exclaimed Larry.
"You twit! We already have ten million units of currency! What would we need another ten million for?"
"Amusement."
"Okay, you got me there, let's go apply."
***
Fing had everyone where he wanted. He still hadn't any idea what to do with the druids, but he knew that it would be something evil. Perhaps killing them would suffice.
"How exactly did you kidnap them, sir?" asked one of the henchmen.
Fing, making a grin with his wrinkled twenty-three year old face, smiled, showing his gravestone-stump teeth. Was is possible for someone to be so evil and so ugly at the same time? Obviously, yes. "Well, I got the idea when I read that a mage had given them a weakness to evil, and I thought to myself 'Who's more evil than the Evil Lord Fing, Ruler of Quarter-Earth, bringer of the apocalypse?' The answer is nobody. I found out where the druids dwell and simply did my evil thing. Within minutes, I had them in a stereotypical brown sack with a loose white string tied around it. It was that easy. There was one fellow, however, who fought me, so, being the evil bastard I am, I beheaded him with my new transportable invisible oversized laser beam that comes out of nowhere yet seems to kill unsuspecting people obliviously to oblivion. Fun!" explained Fing. He had never opened up this much before to someone. "What are you looking at, huh? Off with his head!" the usual thing happened. Beheading was a quirk of Fing. It was rather a cliché.
Lord Fing had no idea what to do now. He had about fifty druids sitting in stereotypical black sacks in the back of his chambers, which he could kill off at any moment, yet he felt strangely incomplete. Could this mean he was turning good? The answer is no. Fing was just depressed. "Tea, please," said Fing.
"But it's not four o'clock, sir," said one of the apparently abundant henchmen.
"Do you have any clue as to who I am?" said Fing.
"Of course I do, O mighty."
"I already told you?-do not call me mighty; for the only person mighty in this room is I! Off with her?-what? You're a girl? But you're a henchmen, not a henchwomen. No…I have to stick to my principles. Off with her head," said Fing, heartlessly. The tea came.
Fing hobbled over to the planning table and started drawing. No plans had came to mind. For once, Fing was stumped. He had lots of druids kidnapped, but yet he wasn't happy. What gave?

III
Larry and Lester walked down to the counsel building, which was across the street. After walking inside, they met a fellow with a grim look on his/her face. "What is your inquiry?" asked the fellow.
"We have to come to rescue the druids, and claim our ten million units of currency," replied Lester, in an inquisitive tone.
"Damn, I was hoping someone had come for the currency naming contest. Crap. Alright, come with me; I'll take you to where we keep our adventurer gear," said the person, waving them into a room. "You'll have to sign some sort of sheet to represent your devotion to rescuing the druids. Then, I'll give you a map, and you can be on your way. Do not talk to strangers and do not get into anybody's way. Do you understand?"
"Yes, most certainly. Let us go now please."
"Fine…but remember: do not talk to strangers."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, c'mon Larry, let's go," said Lester, on his way out of the door. The expedition had begun.
***
Following a map drawn by a ham-fisted druid was one thing, but actually knowing where you were going is another. Lester and Larry set out into the fields of Jargovia's eastern side, but later realised they had been reading the map upside-down and turned to go west. The journey continued all day, hiking in the fields, which led to woods. They appeared to be in a large forest, which made no sense, because Jargovia was pure field.
"Where are we?" asked Lester.
"I don't know. Did you check the map?"
"Yes. It says that where we are standing should be some sort of portal to Quarter Earth. Interesting. That must mean that we're in Quarter Earth."
"Nonsense! Let me see that," shouted Larry.
Frantically spinning the map around randomly made Larry feel very important and argumentative. Not only was he foolishly attempting to prove his handsome and smart brother wrong, but he had no idea what the hell he was doing.
"Ah, well," said Larry. "I guess you're right this time."
"Damn straight, moron. 'Twas about time."
"Argh."
Suddenly from out of the woods came a stomping noise. "What was that?" asked Lester.
"How should I know, bitch?"
"Don't talk to me that way!"
"Why are we arguing? Maybe the outcome of the situation depends on the fact of whether or not we stop bickering; if we continue to converse in a futile way, then maybe it might be possible for the thing that we are hearing to know that we are obviously manifested within its proximity, and if it's evil, then maybe it might want to disembowel us."
"So in other words, we should shut up and listen?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because I just explained it. Weren't you just listening? I pity you."
"You are the one that pities me? Pah! I'm the good one."
"The good one? How could you be the good one?"
"Well, you see, I rule the bigger half of Jargovia, and that therefore makes me the?-" a giant spider appeared from out of the woods.
"You see what I mean? It heard us, bitch," said Larry.
"Don't call me that!"
"I wasn't."
"YES YOU WERE"
"Umm?-excuse me," said the spider. "Would it be possible for you two mud brains to stop arguing so I can kill you? It's kinda my thing."
"Oh look! A talking spider! You expect me to listen to a talking spider? I didn't know anthropomorphism existed. Tell you what. Go to hell, Mr. Spider, and we'll be on our way," said Larry sarcastically.
"Nobody's ever stood up to me like that before," replied the spider.
"Yeah, well get used to it, you big cretin," said Larry. Maybe Larry had gone too far.
"You are making me angry. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry. Say goodbye."
"Make me."
The spider took a big huff and a puff. It then started to look redder. "Pass me that stick, Lester," said Larry. Lester obeyed. Larry poked the spider in one of its eyes.
"OW!" screamed the spider. "That hurt!"
"What were you expecting, hmm? A pleasant feeling of completeness?"
"No, but you didn't have to hurt me."
"Yeah, well, buzz off; nobody wants you here," said Larry, who took a swing at the spider.
"OWW! DAMN YOU" screamed the spider, as it fell over. Lester and Larry started to repeatedly stomp of the spider's legs and head until it was flat.
"You say goodbye, bitch," said Larry, and walked away.
"Wow, that was fun. We should do that again some time," said Lester.
"Let's continue our journey…I can't read this stupid map! How are we going to get to Lord Fing's lair and how are we going to defeat him?" asked Larry.
A random person walked into the pathway. They were wearing some sort of foreboding outfit that was mysteriously coloured black.
"Excuse me, Mr. Person, do you know that way to Evil Lord Fing's castle?" asked Larry.
"Yes. I am a sage. I know everything and every answer to any random question. I know everybody's secrets," claimed the sage.
"If you know the answer to everything, then why are me and Larry here?"
"Because when I was designing the future, I was too damn lazy to give you two a set path. Anything you say or do is a complete act of randomness. You are a rift in the space-time continuum."
"Interesting, but how do we find Evil Lord Fing?"
"I know the answer to that one," said the sage.
"And that answer is?" asked Larry.
"I also know how to defeat Evil Lord Fing, too," said the sage.
"Okay, just tell me the bloody answer!" screamed Larry.
"The answer to where Evil Lord Fing is situated and how to defeat him is?-" suddenly the sage had an aneurysm and died.
"What kind of a man dies on you?" asked Lester.
"I'm not sure, but let's steal his watch and units of currency," said Larry.
***
Meanwhile, back in Jargovia….
"Yes, what are you here for?"
"I'd like to suggest a name for the unit of currency."
"Okay?-tell us what you think it should be called."
"Money."
"That's terrific! You win!"
"Yay!"
***
"What should we do now? We are in the middle of Middle-Eastern-Quarter-Earth and we have no idea where to go. Let's go for a drink in that pub over there that just randomly appeared into the corner of my eye's vision."
"Okay."
Lester and Larry walked over to where the pub was. They entered.
Loud music was playing, and there was a big puff of smoke above where the bartender was standing. In the corner of the room, passed out, was a drunken fat man wearing a vest that was too small and showed his underwear, which was ripped.
"I'd like a beer please. A Budweiser will do," said Larry.
"What's a Budweiser?" asked the bartender.
"Oh, right, it hasn't been invented yet. I'll just have a random generic brand of whatever ale you have on tap."
"What's a tap?" asked the bartender.
"Oh, damn, right, they haven't invented automated pressure systems yet."
"What the hell is an automated pressure system?" asked the bartender.
"Well, it's this thing that you use to get ale from the back?-it uses tubing and the basic laws of pressure to easily transport the ale from the back to the tap and?-"
"Okay, let's get you drunk so that you don't talk," said the bartender. "What would your friend like?"
"He'd like a random generic brand of ale as well."
"Okay…give me a second," said the bartender.
Larry heard a noise from the corner of the room. The drunken fat man wearing the undersized vest had woken up. Larry didn't think much of it. "So, Lester, how do you figure we find our way to Fing's?"
"That's just the beginning, though. We need to defeat him and rescue the druids as well. If only we had a third companion?-"
"I couldn't help but overhear your conversation. Dwayne Dwayneson at your service. I used to work for Fing until he fired me. I'm surprised he didn't behead me. I know the way to Fing's castle and I'm a worthy companion to have," said the drunken fat man.
"Fair enough," said Lester. "Come with us."
***
The woods were dark and lonesome, aside from the fact that it was day out and the three companions were not separated. This was truly a very long journey for the two royal figures?-their entire life consisted of spending money, and not actually doing any quests. You see, Lester and Larry were the kind of chums you'd expect to not know what a Wal-Mart was, although at the time, nobody knew what a Wal-Mart was, mainly because it hadn't been franchised yet. Dwayne was turning out to be quite a good companion, and he seemed to know what he was talking about.
"…So then Lord Fing told me that I wasn't qualified for the position of comic relief because I'm too damn serious, and also because I'm a drunken fat man who wears nothing but an undersized vest all the time," told Dwayne.
"How far are we away from Fing's lair anyways?" asked Larry as they were walking through the forest.
"Quite a way's away. We're only about ten percent there," told Dwayne. There was a rustling in the bushes. An old man came out.
"Hey, ho, I'm Tom Bombadill-o," sang the man gaily. "You gotta help me. They're looking for me," pleased Tom. "They're coming quickly, and if I can't find some sort of haven, then I'm afraid I won't be able to live?-" Tom was shot in the back with an arrow. "Damn you, Sgh! Damn you!" screamed Tom.
"Who's Sgh?" asked Dwayne.
"Sgh is my killer. You can find him at the Pony Tail Tavern & Motel, but be warned: he isn't a fair man. Avenge my death and you shall be rewarded?-" Tom passed away.
"Should we go find the Pony Tail Tavern?" asked Larry.
"Yes, it's not that far away. It's on the way to Fing's lair anyways. It won't be much of an inconvenience."
"Okay."

IV
Dwayne, Larry, and Lester continued walking. They came to a river. A toll man was standing there. "Welcome to the River of the Damned," said the toll man. "In order to pass, you must provide three magic rocks."
"Three magic rocks?"
"Yes, three magic rocks."
"No?-I wasn't verifying that I had to bring you three magic rocks, I was asking about the three magic rocks themselves. What do these magic rocks posess?" asked Larry.
"The first magic rock represents Willpower; for to pass this river wisely and humbly, the travelers must have Willpower. The second rock represents Strength. The mighty challenges that face you will require strength. Lastly, the third rock represents Miscellaneous Things. I was too lazy to think of other things to include as magical metaphorical rocks, so I made a miscellaneous category."
"So these rocks can just be any rocks?"
"No. The rock of Willpower must have ten congruent faces, have a hardness measure of 5, and be a light teal color. The rock of Strength must have eleven congruent faces and be colored light green, and you must be able to extract water from this rock. The third and final rock of Miscellaneous Things must have one face and must be able to be used as a back support for yours truly."
"I think you're just a random traveler who is bored and has to need to occupy themselves by making adventurers likes ourselves go and gather what you consider magical rocks," said Lester. Dwayne sat and stared, as usual.
"I think you're wrong," said the toll man, who was starting to think that they were catching onto his secret.
Larry, Dwayne, and Lester each picked up a rock. "Here are your rocks!" they said in unison. The rocks flew at the toll man's head, knocking him unconscious. They crossed the river.
Through the forest they continued walking. After about twenty minutes of walking and talking, they found themselves in the middle of some sort of tree house village. The inhabitants seemed to be some sort of teddy bear species.
"Hello. Welcome to Plusith Tirith. I am Bellrond, but my friends call my Jelly Belly. What is your business with our humble creatures?"
Larry seemed to be getting a bad vibe from this teddy. He could only assume that people were against him. He got the impression when he noticed many teddies had lines up behind Bellrond and started to form a battle position. "Our business is Fing. We are in search of Evil Lord Fing's underground lair to rescue the druids from his grasp." All the teddies laughed.
"What kinda' sunnava bitch mo' fugga's papa is gonna believe that kinda story?" howled one of the teddies, who was roaring with incapacitating laughter.
"It's not supposed to be funny, you know," said Dwayne.
A teddy came at him with a knife, but, because the teddy was one-eighth Dwayne's size, Dwayne squished it with his foot. The teddies were mad. Thousands of teddies came out from what appeared to be out of nowhere and started gaining of the three companions, who were taking them down almost as quickly as they were coming. Teddy guts were everywhere. Cotton was littered all over the forest's floor. Larry didn't know that he ever knew how to defend himself.
A teddy came at Lester, but he quickly stabbed it in mid air with its own spear and then flung it the distance of a wagon-and-a-half. Larry picked one up and held it by its legs, banging its head repeatedly against a tree. Dwayne kept stepping on them. Dwayne saw a crossbow leaning on a tree a few hundred yards away. Sprinting over to it while stepping on some teddies, Dwayne loaded it and shot it. It appeared Dwayne was trigger-happy.
After the last teddy was killed and/or slain, Lester, Larry, and Dwayne wiped their hands in an 'I've-done-it,-Mommy!' sort of way. They didn't realise that the game had only begun.
About two hundred feet out of their field over view, three teddy bears were having a picnic. The first teddy bear was the wise bear, which was too fat, the second was the intelligent bear, who was too slim, and the third bear was the synonym-bearing bear, which was too antonymous to be able to be considered an intellectual. Drinking their cups of tea, and doing some weed, they were stewing over how to outwit the obviously three witty men.
"I say we challenge them to a wit contest," said the first teddy bear, Willy.
"I say we challenge them to an outsmarting contest," said the second bear, Walter.
"I say we talk about this after I'm finished going to the bathroom," said the third teddy bear, Bob, as he got up and went over to a tree. Ten minutes passed. "Okay, I say we challenge them to a?-crap, my IBS is coming back. Gimme a sec, fellas," Bob said again, as he got up and went over to a tree.
"I hate Bob and his IBS. Let's kill him," said Willy.
"Okay," said Walter. Willy gave Walter a gun and then Walter shot Bob.
"He wasn't that great anyways," said Walter.
"Quite," said Willy.
The three companions heard the gunshot. They rushed over to see what was going on.
"Hello, you three," said Willy to Larry.
"Hello," said Larry to Willy.
"Nice to meet you," said Walter to Larry.
"Nice to meet you too," said Larry to Walter.
"What's you're name?" said Willy to Larry.
"Larry," said Larry to Willy.
"Larry, this is Walter," said Willy to Larry, pointing to Walter.
"Nice to meet you, Walter," said Larry to Walter.
"I am Willy," said Willy to Larry.
"Ah, the pleasure is mine," said Larry to Willy.
"Who else is with you, Larry?" said Willy and Walter to Larry.
"Well, my brother Lester is here with us," said Larry to Willy and Walter, pointing to Lester.
"Ah, hello, Lester," said Willy to Lester.
"Yes, nice to meet you," said Walter to Lester.
"Lester, this is Willy and Walter," said Larry to Lester, pointing at Willy and Walter.
"Ah, hello Willy," said Lester to Walter.
"No, I'm Walter. He's Willy," said Walter to Lester, pointing at Willy.
"I'm sorry," said Lester to Walter.
"Say sorry to Willy, Lester," said Walter to Lester, pointing to Willy.
"I'm sorry, Willy, for confusing you with Walter," said Lester to Willy.
"That's Okay, Lester," said Willy to Lester.
"Who else is with you?" asked Willy and Walter.
"We also have Dwayne," said Larry and Lester to Willy and Walter, pointing at Dwayne.
"Dwayne Dwayneson?" said Willy to Larry.
"I'm not sure. Is your last name Dwayneson, Dwayne?" said Larry to Dwayne.
"Yes, it is," said Dwayne to Larry.
"I know who you are," said Walter to Dwayne.
"Yes, and we know who you are," said Larry, Lester, and Dwayne to Willy and Walter.
"That works for the better," said Willy to no direct person.
"I'm sure it does," said Larry to Lester, but then corrected himself by saying it to Willy.
"What is your business?" asked Willy.
"We are just adventurers, randomly walking through the forests to see what we find," said Larry, who wanted to hide his real quest.
"What a life," said Willy, sarcastically.
"We enjoy it," said Lester.
"I'm sure you do," said Walter.
"Okay then," said Larry.
"Then we're okay," said Willy.
"Be that way," said Larry.
"Okay then," said Walter.
"Then we agree," said Larry.
"Yes, we agree," said Willy.
"Fine," said Larry.
"We challenge you to a wit contest," said Willy.
"What happens if we lose?" asked Larry to Willy.
"We kill you," said Willy.
"With what?"
"Our killing machine."
"You have a killing machine?"
"Yes."
"Okay."
"Okay to what?"
"Your killing machine!"
"What about my killing machine?"
"I just said! Okay!"
"Okay to what, though?"
"YOUR KILLING MACHINE!"
"What about my killing machine?"
"?-Wait?-?-I get the point of this."
"Point of what?"
"The wit contest."
"What about the wit contest?"
"Well, how do you figure out who wins?"
A stream of logic suddenly overcame Willy. Willy and Walter vanished in a puff of logic.
"We won!" exclaimed Larry.
"So?" said Lester.
"Whatever. Let's keep walking."
***
Through the forest the three continued to walk. Their destination, The Pony Tail Tavern & Motel had not yet been reached, but was getting close. That was where the three would sleep for the night. Their first day of journey was at about three-quarters through.
"Those teddy bear things were annoying. I hope they weren't dreadfully important to the plot," said Larry.
"What?" asked Lester.
"Nothing," said Larry.
Dwayne kept to himself the rest of the day, except for when he didn't, in which case he didn't keep to himself. Dwayne was the kind of person that would never speak their mind whether or not they were sober.
A tavern came into view. It was large and tavern-like, ironically enough. They entered. "We'd like to rent a room," said Larry.
"That'll be two units of currency," said the man who was at the counter.
"It's actually called money now. They changed the name of it."
"Really?"
"Yes."
"Well that's interesting, because I was going to name it money."
"Were you really?"
"Yes."
"And why didn't you?"
"Because the castle is too far away."
"Well distances aren't supposed to hinder you from doing things, you know."
"Really?"
"Yes."
"But I've lived my whole life living with the principle that any man who is separated from the things he wants to do by distances, he shouldn't bother doing it."
"Well, sorry to say, but that's wrong."
"Very well, then. What's your name?"
"It's Larry."
"You don't say! My name is Larry!"
"Really?"
"Yes!"
"Well, what's your profession?"
"I'm a count. Count Larry of Lestershire is what they call me."
"Really?"
"Yes!"
"Well I'm a Count Larry of Lestershire too!"
"Really?"
"Yes!"
"Well shouldn't that mean that this tavern is an alternate universe?" suggested Lester.
"Well, in theory, yes it should," said Larry.
"Well, then doesn't that mean that we just discovered a loophole in the system?"
"What system?"
"I'm not sure…The system that makes us the way we are," said Lester.
"How do we make it so that we are no longer a victim of a complete act of random alternate universes?"
"Kill Count Larry."
"Which one?" asked Dwayne.
"Obviously the one at the counter."
"Okay. Hand me that?-wait a minute! If the two alternate universes are intermingled together, doesn't that mean that there are doubles of every one of us? Or, maybe have you ever thought that we are the doubles and the selves of us that we see are the real ones?" said Larry.
"I never thought of that. It's actually quite philosophical."
"Quite."
"Okay, well let's just kill this Larry and see if anything happens."
"Okay"
Larry picked up a pole and beat the other Larry to death with it. It was quite satisfying
"Did anything happen?" asked Lester.
"I don't think so," said Larry.
***
Meanwhile, off the coast of Belgium
A giant hole appeared in the middle of a street.
***
Because the room-booker was dead, the three companions went off to find a room by themselves, in hope that tomorrow they would find Sgh and avenge Tom Bombadill's death. They were having troubles deciding who got the bed.
"Who will get the bed?"
"I don't know!"
"Who said that?"
"I don't know; it will probably remain ambiguous for the rest of the book," said a voice.
"What?"
"Nothing."
***
The sun rose bright and early. A little too early, in fact. This was because the henchman in control of raising the sun in Quarter-Earth had accidentally hit the switch a little too early. He quickly corrected himself. Larry, Lester, and Dwayne all awoke at the same time. They went down to the lobby.
"Excuse me, do you know where I can find Sgh?" asked Larry to a very tall man.
"I'm Sgh."
"…And that you are…well…nice meeting you," said Larry, and turned around. "Why couldn't you stand up to him?" thought Larry. "You are a handyman. Go beat him with a bat! You'd kill him in no time! Hey…I want some alcohol."
"Quiet, you," said Larry aloud. Larry walked back over to where Lester and Dwayne were standing.
"What's the matter, Larry?" asked Dwayne.
"He's too strong for me to handle," said Larry.
"Nonsense! I'll kill him for you, for I am a drunken fat man whose anger knows no satiety," exclaimed Dwayne.
It was really funny watching a drunken fat man attempt to beat up a seasoned assassin, but for some reason, Dwayne succeeded. Because they fought behind a giant random drape, nobody saw how Dwayne actually killed Sgh.
"How did you do it?" asked Lester, in awe.
"I didn't do anything. He just had a heart attack," said Dwayne.
"Ah," said Lester.
"I found this in his jacket," said Dwayne, holding up a small card.

HELLO! I AM A MINION OF FAUG,
KEEPER OF THE SIX AND ONE MINIONS
OF EVILITISMS

HOW'S MY EVILNESS?
1-88-COMPLAIN
EXT. EVIL
(3845)
ASK FOR OPERATOR STAN

"This must mean that we are to go find Faug if we are to avenge Tom Bombadill's death," said Larry.
"Who is Faug?" asked Lester.
"Faug is the reputed crook in Quarter-Earth; he is said to be the centreof all evil, except for his master, Lord Fing, of course. He also is an endorser for Reebok," said Dwayne.
"What?"
"Nothing," hushed Dwayne.
"Do you know the way to Faug's lair?" asked Larry.
"No, but there is a rather nice map on the back of this card. It looks like the lair is located in the Mountains of Fog, northeast of the Foggy River, south of East Fogton," said Dwayne.
"Ah," said Lester.
"These are evil times."
"Yes, they are. Yes, they are," said Dwayne.

V
The three companions had a nice distraction. The only reason they were actually avenging the death of Tom was because Fogton was the only way travelers were able to get to Fing's lair.
"So, what's so good about this Faug guy, anyways?"
"I'm not that sure. I don't think he could be that strong. He seems to be quite the crook, though. Last year, he stole ten million units of money worth of various Druish weaponry, not to mention the supposed lost treasure of the Modern Ancient Druish world. It is supposedly a magic item of jewellery. This year, he hopes to steal the Holy Grail, Excalibur, and amazingly enough, Jimmy Hoffa's body. I can't believe this guy!" exclaimed Dwayne. It was as if Dwayne was falling in love with Faug.
"Wow," said Lester. "Even for an experienced crook like me, I consider that a pretty hard task."
"You aren't a crook at all," said Larry.
"?-That you know of," said Lester, with a twitchy eye.
They continued walking without any largely important threats, aside from the large flesh eating rodents that appeared from time to time, but Dwayne usually got really happy and ate one of them. Yes, times were definitely good.
A storm was coming. The sky foreboded evil in a sinister way. Even more, the three companions were walking on an elevated cliff. "Let's turn back," said Lester. "The days are growing darker."
"Are you kidding? We haven't done anything of worth yet. If we return Druidless and without any heroism we'll be only just as good as any other royalty. I say we keep going and not give up," spoke Larry.
"Well, it seems you have your priorities straight, but I don't so I'll be on my waaa?-" Lester fell off the cliff and landed with a dull thud.
"Are you okay, Lester?" shouted Dwayne.
"I'm perfectly okay," said Lester, standing up perfectly and dusting his cloak off."I just feel a strange tingling in my back. If it's serious, I'll be able to get to Jargovia in time to save myself, don't you worry. Goodbye, and god speed! I'll be back in Jargovia if you need me, brother!" screamed Lester. "Brother? Where did you go?" It was too late. Larry had already moved on.
***
"How much longer did you say it was going to be before we land in Fogton?" asked Larry.
"Right…about…now," said Dwayne. A big sign floated into view. It clearly read Welcome to Fogton, Home of Faug, the Evildoer of Quarter-Earth. This was clearly an evil setting for two good-hearted adventurers to be.
"We should go find Faug and kill him immediately," said Larry.
"Ah," said Lester, who wasn't there.
"What?"
Nobody replied.
Dwayne walked over to Larry. "We've been out all day, sir, we should go find a place to sleep so we can get Faug early next morning. We might need the rest."
"That's a great idea, Dwayne, but let's just go find Faug right away."
"Fine."
Through Fogton they walked, according to the map, and into the Mountains of Fog. They were at a very high elevation. "So do you think that it will be hard for us to kill Faug?" asked Larry.
"I'm not sure. It might've helped if we'd had a good night's sleep first," said Dwayne, as they continued to climb. "Ah, well."
They reached an opening in the mountain. "This must be his lair," said Larry.
"Duh, jackass," said Dwayne sarcastically.
"Ugh. Let's just enter, okay?" asked Larry.
"Fine."
They entered. The lair was a lot bigger than they had expected it to be. Bones were scattered every which way they could have been. There was a long hallway that extended into a giant chamber, which was out of view. Continue walking they did.
A voice sounded. "Who enters without an appointment? I challenge you to leave my premises. If not, I will bribe you with these decorative but delicious mints, fashioned by my most important sweatshop workers," said a large, scaly Faug.
Larry and Dwayne continued walking. Larry made a stereotypical cartoon gulping sound. "No. We have come to avenge the death of Tom Bombadill, and to do that, we must kill you," said Dwayne.
"You seem like the worthy fat type for a thing like me," said Faug.
" Nobody says that kind of thing about Dwayne without calling him a drunk first," said Dwayne, defensively.
"The ambiguity of your species is intriguing. I want to see if you are a worthy fighter. Show yourself." said Larry. Faug showed himself.
Faug was a very big creature. He turned out to be a large fire-breathing dragon with an intolerable intolerance for tolerating intolerable things. "Please, make yourself comfortable, one who speaks to me with disaffection for me," said Faug. "As for the fat one, come see me right away."
Dwayne waddled over to where Faug was standing. With one quick swoop, Faug picked Dwayne up and impaled him with his talon, and then, gracefully, finished by eating him.
"You monster!" screamed Larry. "I was planning on killing him!"
After chewing Dwayne, and spitting his bones out, Faug continued to talk. "Men of your type are hardly worthy for men of my type," he said, wiping his mouth with a giant napkin. "You see, I am the centre of all evil, except for my master, the Evil Lord Fing," explained Faug. "Me and you are incompatible. We must do something about that."
"Who the hell is Fing, might I ask?" asked Larry.
"Fing is my master. He is better known as the Evil Lord Fing, Ruler of Quarter-Earth, Bringer of the Apocalypse. When he was a child, a prophecy was fashioned and foretold of the bringing of the apocalypse by Fing. Nobody knows for sure whether or not this is true, because the prophet was probably high at the time, but there's one thing we do know about Fing: he is immortal," told Faug. "Immortal as the men who follow him."
"You mean his young?"
"Precisely. Faug's children are said to be the secrets of the Universe. They contain some sort of evil gene, which will not be present in its fullest until the child has committed an evil deed. I have no idea why I am telling you this," continued Faug.
"So you are saying that the children of Fing are utterly immortal?" asked Larry, who was starting to think about Lester.
"Yes."
"Which means that if you fell of a cliff, you wouldn't die?"
"Well, obviously, yes," replied Faug.
"And there's no way they can die?"
"Yes. If one immortal kills another, then the immortal who tries to kill the other immortal with become mortal but the immortal being killed will die, thus making them mortal. You see, as an immortal, you have one chance at killing another immortal and then you become mortal after successfully killing the immortal that you seek to kill. In other words, if I was immortal and you wanted to kill me, and you were immortal, then you would successfully be able to kill me, but then be burdened with the eternal drought of being mortal. If a mortal attempts to kill an immortal, then the mortal will parish due to non-immortality and the immortal who was sought to be killed will gain strength. But, being an immortal also means that you can kill whoever the hell you want, which is the same as being mortal, only you can kill up to one immortal before you become mortal again. The only way an immortal can kill more than one immortal is by killing two separate immortal entities at the exact same time. Should the foreign object being used to kill the immortals hit one immortal before the other immortal, the mortal trying to kill two (or more) immortals will then perish and the immortal who was not hit before the first immortal will gain strength?-oh dear, I appear to have gone cross-eyed."
"Then how about this:" started Larry.
"Yes?"
"You go to hell, Faug, and I can steal all of your riches," finished Larry.
"And how do you figure you're going to do that?"
"By killing you," told Larry.
"I figured quite as much. Okay. Go ahead and kill me then," said Faug, who stood still in a fixed position.
"Why are you just surrendering to me?" asked Larry.
"Do I have to give a reason? Go ahead and kill me," said Faug. And Larry did. It took several hours of beating, but he did. First came the skin off Faug, but Faug remained alive. Next came the head of Faug, but that only made him stronger. Lastly came out the heart of the dragon, which finally completed the killing of the dragon. After Faug was officially dead to Larry's standards, Larry started filling his pockets with random assorted gold things. A piece of jewellery caught his eye.
"What's this?" thought Larry. "It appears to be some sort of Druish jewellery." Larry put it on. Nothing happened. "Well, that was pointless. Let's keep looking………Ooo! What's this?" he said again, picking up another piece of random jewellery. He put it on. "Whoa!" he screamed. A bee just stung him. Nothing happened. "What ever happened to the magical piece of jewellery that I heard about?". Larry picked up the third and final piece of Druish jewellery. He put it on.
***
Evil Lord Fing was sitting in the middle of his chambers, as usual, with a wicked grin on his face. Perhaps he was upset because his plot to kidnap the Druish was a failure. He needed some time to relax. Maybe just this once he would leave his lair and go for a walk. "No, you can't do that. You are too popular among the young folk. Stay in your castle and don't do anything out of the ordinary. This is the prime time of your life. You are a handyman?-OFF WITH HIS?-Uh-oh; I appear to be getting mad at myself. I'll shut up now," thought Fing.
Fing was all out of ideas. He sat there with his crayons drawing miscellaneous battle scenes. His life was boring. If only he could figure something out…
***
Nothing happened when Larry put it on. "Damn," thought Larry. "Where could that magic random piece of jewellery have gone? Wait a tick?-is it that one? No. Is it that one? No. How about that one? No. Or maybe that one? No. Perhaps it's the one near that?-no I already tried that one. Hmph. Maybe it's this one?-no, that's just me wetting myself. Ah, here it is?-oh, wait, I've already tried that one. Maybe it's a metaphorical piece of jewellery. WAIT A SECOND! THERE IT IS!" screamed Larry with joy as he found it. It was in fact magical. It altered Larry in many positive ways.

VI.
The next morning, Larry woke up with his back curved on a rock. What fun. For some strange reason, Larry figured that this would be the last leg of his journey to go and rescue the Druids and safely return them to Druidia. "What happened right after I put the piece of jewellery on?" thought Larry. "Well, do you feel any better? Wait, I'm Larry's mind, I already know the answer to that one," he continued.
Larry was stuck in the middle of Quarter-Earth without any means of knowing how to get to Fing's lair, and he was too nervous to go ask anybody whether or not they knew. But he built up the courage anyways.
"Excuse me, Mr. Local Yokel, but do you know how to get to Evil Lord Fing's lair?" asked Larry.
"What y'all gotto doo is done gone and walked down that street over dare and taked y'all lefted. Once y'all gone done and turned lefted, ya gotto gone done and gone down the road," said the Local Yokel, whose name remained ambiguous.
"Thank you."
"Y'all welcome."
"I'm going to go now."
"Y'all can gone done and doo that," said the Yokel.
Larry walked down the road and took a left where the yokel had instructed. Surely enough, a sign came into view that said You are Now Entering Fing World; Day Pass $10/youth, $15/oldie, $35/adult male, $80/adult female, $1 miscellaneous*, yearly pass $9 000 (per family of 4).
*Must have proof of miscellaneousness.
"This must be it," said Larry.
"Yes, we're finally here," said Lester.
"What are you doing here?" asked Larry.
"What are you talking about? I've been here all along!" exclaimed Lester. "The ambiguity of this lair is becoming too unbearable to desist from exhibiting," continued Lester. "Let us penetrate the burrow of the infamous 'Fing' and imbue ourselves with dignity and heroism," concluded Lester. Larry looked at Lester funnily. "What?"
"Nothing."
Suddenly, from out of the little shanty sitting on top of the dune came a stately wizard from the days of Yore. He bumped his head on the way out. "Ah ****! I seem to having ******* hit my ******* head on the ******* piece of **** door while on my ******* way out of my damn ******* shanty. Ah, ****! I forgot my ******* staff in my ******* shitty shanty! I must ******* go back and get the ******* thing before I ******* kill myself. Ah, ****, my ******* dog **** on my ******* staff and now I have to ******* clean the ******* thing up before the ******* duel tonight."
"Excuse me, but are you Fing?" asked Larry.
"What the ****? I'm not ******* Fing, you ******* moron. Fing lives ******* down in his ******* lair, dumbass."
"This is a PG story, so please keep the language to a low," said Lester.
"Okay," said the wizard. "I'll keep my ******* language to a ******* low, you damn ******* control freak. Want me to put a ******* spell on you?"
"Frankly, I don't care," said Larry. "Where's the entrance?"
"Ah, the ******* entrance to ******* Fing's ******* lair is ******* in my ******* shitty shanty," said the wizard.
"Okay…" said Larry.
"Just ******* kidding, it's the door over there," said the wizard, pointing to a door over there. "Take the ******* stairway of doom to his ******* chambers. Oh yeah, you'll know when you're at the ******* stairs of doom when you see pink?-he accidentally had them ******* painted pink when he was ******* decorating the place," said the wizard.
"Thank you!" shouted Lester.
"No fuckin' problem," replied the wizard.
***
Larry and Lester walked into the door over there and entered. The dark area they were in was surprisingly dark. "It's dark in here," said Larry.
"Tell me about it," said Lester.
"Okay; well, it's dark and musty?-" started Larry.
"I didn't mean tell me about it, I meant yes, what you are saying is something I agree with," said Lester.
"Ah," said Larry.
A pink stairway approached. You'd think it would be a long and strenuous stairway, but instead it was just one measly flight of ten stairs with a lone wheelchair ramp sitting at the side. Larry and Lester proceeded. When they entered the main chamber, Larry and Lester saw a funny thing.
"…Do you exchspect me to talk?" asked Sean Connery, as the laser moved closer and closer to his "ego".
"No, I expect you to sing Broadway show tunes," said Lord Fing, evilly.
"'Clang, clang, clang' ssched the trolley! 'Ding ding ding' went the bell. 'Zing zing zing' went my heart schringsch, for the moment I schaw him fell?-"
"ENOUGH!" screamed Fing. "Off with his head!" Sean Connery was decapitated.
"Um?-excuse me, Mr. Evil Lord Fing?-"
"Who are you?"
"I was trying to get to?-"
"I said who are you?"
"The thing is, I was trying to explai?-"
"Are you going to tell me who you are?"
"Yes, I am, but?-"
"Then what's stopping you from telling me who you are?"
"You are stopp?-"
"I am stopping?-"
"YES YOU ARE!" screamed Larry. Nobody had ever stood up to Fing like this before.
"Okay. Obviously you are of importance to?-"
"I am Count Larry of Lestershire, and this is my brother, Duke Lester the Nth of Larryington. We have come to save the?-"
"I don't care who you are; I want to know what you're here?-"
"I'm trying to tell you?-"
"Then tell me, dammit!"
"Just don't interrup?-"
"Okay," interrupted Fing.
"We are here to rescue our beloved Druids," told Larry.
"And what makes you think that I have those beloved Druids?" asked Fing, wisely.
"Nothing. Intuition, you could say."
"Intuition?"
"Yes, you heard me, intuition," said Larry.
"And that's the only reason to as why you are here?"
"Yes.
"Really?"
"Yes."
"Ah. Well, seeing as how I'm an Evil Lord and all, I'll tell you what: go die," warned Fing.
"Or else what?"
"Or else I'll kill you," replied Fing.
"That sounds like a good plan, but I'd rather just rescue the Druids," said Larry.
"Okay. Follow me."
"To where?"
"To where the Druids are being kept," said Fing.
"Ah."
Fing led Larry and Lester to the Druid Room, where all the Druids were neatly kept in a neatly tied stereotypical brown sack with a loosely tied string. "Only the touch of a nincompoop can save them," said Fing. "and you appear to be quite wise people. Mu-ahahahahaha…[etc.]" said Fing.
Larry went over to the bag and touched it. It opened and all the Druids came out safe and sound. "Okay…what the crap?" said Fing, puzzled. Just then, Fing realised something and left the room, using his walker at a slow pace. Larry and Lester stared. "If you're staring, I'm twenty-three, you know," said Fing, trying to add a lesser connotation to the fact that he was utterly, utterly ugly.
The Druids were in praise of Larry and Lester. "Yay!" etc. Larry wandered over to the head druid named Qz. "Excuse me, Qz, but I found an ancient treasure of your people," said Larry, handing over the random magical item of jewellery.
Qz was shocked. "Our people have lost this for billions of milliseconds. I praise you," said Qz.
"What does it do?"
"The inscriptions on the back are readable, but, unfortunately, the evil German that we hired to forge it for us wrote the secret to it in German. I also think he cursed us, too, because he knew that we'd never pay him," continued Qz.
"Ah," said Larry.
"I'll tell you what; you can wear this until we return home because you have graciously returned it to our people."
"Great!" said Larry, putting the magical piece of jewellery on. "Let's find the exit now." They left the Druid Room.
Continuing to walk, Larry and Lester, as well as Qz and the other forty-nine Druids, encountered a lone Fing, with all of his henchmen beheaded.
"Hello," said Fing, evilly. "I've been waiting for you fifty-two."
"I see," said Qz. Fing drew out a light-saver.
"This is a light-saver, the most powerful weapon and candy combination ever created. It can chop through skin so quickly that you can say 'Q-A-D-E-R-C-G-D-G-Y-H-B-H-G-E' before it's halfway through."
"Impressive,"
"Yes, it really is?-wait a minute?-I should be killing you!" screamed Fing. "But first, you'll need to come closer because I will tire if I use my walker."
"Eff you," said Larry.
"Okay," said Fing. "This isn't working out as planned. Come over here and randomly fight me then."
Suddenly and very randomly, a whole swarm of henchmen appeared out from Fing's hair and started making random fancy hand movements. Larry took out a gun and shot them all. "What the crap?" asked Fing. "Since when did you get a gun? They haven't even been invented yet!"
"What gun?" asked Larry, who cocked the gun and pointed at Fing's head.
"You can't kill me," said Fing.
"And why is that?" asked Lester.
"Because, well?-I'm your father…but please, call me Dad," said Fing.
"No way! That would explain all of my horoscopes," said Lester.

Two Months Earlier…

Weekly Horoscope* By Ganson McButtersworth
Sagittarius
You and your brother are the sons of an Evil Lord who may one day bring the apocalypse.
*Ganson is not responsible for any accuracies that may present themselves.

"Wait a minute. If you're twenty-three, and we're twenty-five, then how is it possible for you to be our father?"
"Hmm. Well, isn't it obvious?" said Fing. "But I'm positive that you're my children, though, because I noticed how the ugly one has my ugly looks."
"Damn you," said Larry.
"Tee-hee," tee-heed Lester.
"You see, I knew that I was going to have kids when I stopped menstruating," said Fing.
"Ew!"
"Why am I telling you this? I should be killing you!" said Fing, who was slowly poising himself for a battle. Lester and the fifty Druids left through the back door.
"I guess this is between you and I," said Fing.
"Not really, because given my height and strength, you literally have no chance," said Larry.
"Ah," said Fing. "Please don't kill me."
"I wish I didn't have to, but I didn't come all the way out here just to rescue a whole bunch of Druids without killing anybody," said Larry. "If only I was back in Jargovia with Lester, the fifty Druids, and my ten million moneys," said Larry. Suddenly it happened.
***
There was a big party. Loud music was playing. Everybody was having a good time. Waiters were bringing around trays of cheese and wine. "How did this happen?" asked Larry to Qz.
"The piece of jewellery. It must be some sort of plot-changing device. It changes the plot the way the user sees fit. A deux aux machina if you will," said Qz.
"What?"
"Nothing."
Lester walked over to Larry. "Where's all the loud music coming from, and who's providing all the booze?" asked Lester.
"I'm not sure. It's a party; it doesn't have to make sense. Enjoy it while you can."