Con Dar Night
Presbyter Zedd hauled his ancient frame up the stairs to Dick's turret, at the top of Deepgate Temple. The young angel was flapping his raptor-like wings and merrily torturing his snail collection. But it was time he learned of his Objectivist heritage.
"Dick," said the old priest, "you are the last of the Objectivists. You have a holy duty to our Temple of Reason, to stand firm against the menacing hordes of Commies. Obviously, we don't need you to do any fighting, cos you're a bit of a wuss, but as long as the people know there is still an Objectivist in the Temple, they will stand firm against the forces of discord."
Dick looked longingly at the sword over the fireplace. Its shiny blade, the word "Truth" lovingly written on its handle in some kind of bendy wire. All he wanted to do was take it down and slaughter some Commies, but the priests didn't want him to hurt himself. They wouldn't even let him outside the temple, in case he tripped over his own feet and fell into the abyss.
Zedd continued. "Tonight is Con Dar Night, so we need to make sure you are protected. As you know, once every month when the moon turns dark, the ancient beast Kahnival roams the town. Legend has it that hundreds of years ago she was once an Objectivist like you, but got so fed up with being kidnapped and almost raped that she went mad, and now she comes out every month to feed. She will find a good, loyal capitalist, then make him cut off his own testicles and eat them, while she munches popcorn."
"Yes, but she has big boobs, right?" asked Dick, earnestly.
Zedd nodded. "Yes she does, so there may still be hope for her. Oh look, here's your new protector!"
A small girl walked into the room and gave Dick a sardonic glance. "Hi, I'm Rachel," she said.
Dick was appalled. He'd been expecting a huge, bronzed warrior, possibly wearing only a loincloth. "But she's only, like, 8!" he cried in horror.
"Eight-year-old girls can have terrible power; it is wise never to underestimate them," said Zedd, wisely. "Besides, this particular girl has been trained in all kinds of arcane terminology, and can give speeches that last for several pages."
The girl nodded brusquely. "I am well versed in representational designs involving lethality," she said, "and I've also cut down at least four dozen Commies with my bare hands, as well as being the custodian of the fearsome but entirely pointless Stone of Tears. The only thing that scares me is the Ghostey Gobblies."
"So, that's settled then," said Zedd, hobbling off to carry out some priestly duties.
Some time later, their holy body-disposal ceremony was suddenly interrupted by the Arch Poisoner, Alexander Darken. Clutching the Boxes of Orden, he cackled wildly as he opened one of them.
"Now I am invincible! Mwahahahaha! All I have to do is open the other... oops!" And with that, he tripped over and dropped the remaining boxes into the Abyss.
"Curses!" he spat. He grabbed Presbyter Zedd and flew off in a stolen airship to plot his next move, pausing only to kick a cute little goat, demonstrating his evilness. Rachel and Dick couldn't believe it. Why would he have kidnapped a man? That was the job for women! Dick sighed with disappointment at the missed opportunity for an almost-rape scene.
"We have to find some way to defeat Darken, before he builds up his Commie army and comes back for us! We need those other Boxes of Orden!" cried Rachel in despair. "I can't go down there, it's all dark and full of ghostey gobblies!"
Dick's mind raced. Given that he still couldn't manage to pick up his sword without cutting himself, there was only one person strong enough to venture into the pit and find the boxes.
"We have to find Kahnival," he said solemnly.
Using Rachel as bait, they finally managed to track down the vicious Kahnival. She listened with interest as they told her of the magical boxes that they needed to find. The force of Dick's words moved within her. Something about him made her regret her centuries of castration. Maybe it was time she chose life. And she could always cut his balls off later if need be.
"I've always wanted to visit the bottom of the abyss," said Rachel, leaping into the pit. Dick stared after her morosely. Of course, he had wings, so he should probably go and catch her before she splatted on the bottom, but that would be to deny his Objectivist heritage, and any obligation to save her life would make him into a slave. Kahnival, however, lacked his moral celery, and flew down quickly to catch the prepubescent warrior. Now Dick was free to make his own choice, he followed with a lighter heart.
Meanwhile, Darken had arrived at the evil hippy commune in the desert, and was conversing with their leader, Jagang. The hippies all hated Deepgate because they were enemies of life itself and wanted to destroy all that was good in the world, in the manner of hippies everywhere. They gladly agreed to Darken's plan, and formed a huge Commie army that marched towards the city like a giant fighting centipede. Deepgate's Swedish grandmothers were in for a tough time.
Meanwhile, Kahnival was regretting her earlier act of altruism. It was a long way to the bottom of the pit, and her arms were starting to hurt. She was glad when they finally reached the bottom and she could let go of Rachel.
As they walked along, the ground crunched strangely beneath their feet. Rachel bent down to investigate. They had landed on a huge pile of celery!
"Those callous pit-dwellers!" cried Dick. "Instead of nobly consuming this celery, they have left it here to rot! What kind of monsters could they be?"
"We'll find out in a minute," observed Kahnival "Cos here they come!"
"It's the ghostie gobblies!" cried Rachel, and passed out in a fainting swoon.
They awoke to hear low, cackling laughter from outside their cell. A grotesquely fat man with distinguished grey hair was watching them, smoking a cigar and holding a box-like object in prominent view.
"Ha ha ha ha ha," he laughed, with a sinister laugh. "I am Bill Clinton, the God of Altruism, and you are my prisoners! My altruist army will enjoy feeding and looking after you - for ever!!"
He shuffled off, only to be replaced by a couple of his altruist minions. They leered patronisingly at their helpless captives.
"Everything all right in there? Do you need a cup of tea or anything?" they asked gloatingly, safe in the terrible knowledge that by treating their captives well, it removed their free will and turned them into slaves, or something.
Kahnival had an idea. "Oh, altruists, could you just unlock this door for us?" she asked, in her best pleading voice. "We're completely helpless, and if you help us, we'll be even more helpless."
"But of course!" they cried, and instantly Kahnival and Rachel were free and had killed them to death.
"Stupid altruists," said Rachel, spitting on their corpses. But where was Dick?
Dick was lying on the floor, not moving.
"Oh no!" cried Rachel. "All his life, he's been helped and protected by other people, who have stopped him from rising up and living his life! He has been turned into a slave by all those servants attending to his every whim! And now he's so helpless he can't even move! What can we do?"
Just then, her eyes crawled across Dick's sword, which he'd still never gotten round to using.
"Hurry up," said Kahnival urgently. "The publishers need this book to be finished before the weekend, so we need to get a move on!"
Instantly Dick's hand shot out and grabbed his sword, which blazed with a blaze of light, like lightning blazing from a sword. He rose up and lived his life. Bringer of Death. Freedom good, slavery bad. Bill Clinton had accidentally dropped the Boxes of Orden as he walked off, so Dick opened it and, um, they were all saved, and Jagang's Commie army fell into the pit and squashed all the altruists.