Fantasy Characters Living Through Real Apocalypses Protest Fake End of Days
Collapsing Shack Arizona: The Fantasy Adventuring Characters Team Symposium or F.A.C.T.S. has lodged a formal complaint against, “All nay sayers-Doom mongers, Rapture renegers and End of Dayers.” They feel that they are hard pressed enough fighting for their lives against an unstoppable foe, and they’d rather not hear a bunch of imaginary speculation about how our “nearly perfect world might have weekend without two for one potato chips deals.”
We caught up Elric of Melnebone and he had this to say. “Your petty Apocalypses would not keep me from opening a second bottle of dragon blood wine or slaughtering a trusted friend. When your world sees the Armies of Chaos transform an entire continent into a landscape of undulating entropy, then you’ll get my attention.”
Father Finnegan had this to say. “The only real Apocalypse are sanctioned by the Lord.” When it was pointed out that Apocalypses were bad, and that any God that sanctioned them must be evil, he fought back by saying, “Your mother sleeps with infected midget gardeners.”
Harry Potter was unavailable for comment, due to it being half price, topless centaur massage day at Dagon Alley. His friend Ron Weasley did have this comment. “Bloody hell, Voldemort is about to annihilate everything and you muggles are worried about your cable being shut off for a day or if you could go to Heaven. Oh, I feel so sorry for you wankers. Go make yourself a microwave dinner and piss off.”
We tried to interview Frodo, but he in the Fellowship were in southern Rohan, helping Bilbo sigh up for a 28-day program to support him and Gandalf in kicking their ‘Hobbit Herb’ addiction. We were however able to get and audience with Tom Sawyer. “Now, I’s not too sure about them Apocalypse, and such. I guess it’s when God gets real mad, like when Becky pinched me when I painted her hair fire station red. Say, I’d be willing to let some of you help me paint some fun stuff, fer just a nickel. Whatya say?”
I was forced to press on alone after my driver and photographer stopped to help Tom paint his fence. I tracked down Neo, but much to his chagrin, insisted on calling him Mr. Anderson. “I was born into an Apocalypse of such horrifying proportions– rare is the human mind that can comprehend it, although those birthing pods make really great Jacuzzis. The other day Trinity and I broke into one and-”
So as I limped on to my next interview, I spotted Jack Primus. “Does living in a foul world where supernatural serial killers devour the souls of the innocent make me pissed about these fake doomdays? It sure as hell does! After all this ‘crying wolf,’ you guys won’t be ready when it really hits the fan.” He nodded his head. “And it will hit. In fact, I’d be willing to trade you this ‘war axe’ for just a few pitchers of ale and a cheesesteak.”
Jack’s ‘war axe’ looked suspiciously like the axe I used to chop wood when I’m camping, but nevertheless, I threw the ‘war axe’ over my shoulder and pressed on to a man who name alone has changed history.
I asked John what he thought about fake ‘End of Dayers.’ And that is when they attacked. “You’ll need more than a rusty axe to take down this sardine cans from hell!” It is possible that I screamed something here. “Yes that man is dead and you will be too if you don’t MOVE, off my leg I mean, you hugging it in panic is cutting off my circulation.”
After leaving John Connor behind, I figured I was ready for a different life. Being a reporter is not enough for me. I was born to be a hero or at least the guy that throws the party with the most kegs. Since I’m just a beginner, I better start with an easy world, one with only a few fake Apocalypse here and there. Ah… Perfect.