Flash Friday 15/08/2014: Premature Ending
This is a sequel to Staff Management. Please read that before reading this week’s entry!
“I’m glad you liked it.” The imp took the empty, used plate off of the overlord’s throne-side table. “Cooking a roast beef is something I always enjoy what is that?”
The overlord looked down at the imp from his throne. “What is what?”
The imp grabbed hold of one of the table legs, yanking it out. The rest of the table crashed to the floor, but the imp focused on what he was holding. “You were using the Staff of Oblivion to hold up your wonky table.”
The overlord nodded, taking the staff.
The imp frowned. “And that doesn’t strike as…odd to you?”
The overlord shrugged. “What else will I use it for?”
“Oh, I don’t know…destroying the world?”“
“Ah!” The overlord pointed. “But you said I’m not allowed to do that, didn’t you? So, I found a new use for it. Holding up my table. Saves on money.”
“You can’t use such a powerful tool of the story to fix your furniture!”
The overlord picked his teeth with a pointed edge of the staff. “Don’t see why not.”
“Because…because it’s the Staff of Oblivion, you fool!”
“Right. But in terms of actual oblivionating, it’s not doing anything. Might as well make use of it. Handy table leg. Walking cane. Javelin. Hey, I could probably juggle this.” The overlord began to juggle the staff like a circus clown. “Ooh! Nice weight to it.”
The imp stomped a foot. “Put it down this instant, before you do something stupid.”
“Oh, yeah. Something stupid. Like, I don’t know, get some use out of it. You just want me to sit on it all day and let it waste away. Sometimes, my impy friend, you could learn a thing or two from an overlord such as balls, I dropped it.“
The imp made a dive for the staff as it plummeted to the ground, but was too late. The business end of the staff bounced off of the floor. The sharp tak noise it made seemed to echo into an eternity. The world around them turned black and white, then faded away like paint being washed away, leaving a black void behind.
The only things left were the overlord, the imp, the staff, the throne, and a small chunk of floor.
“Oh.” The imp threw its hands in the air, looking around. “Now you’ve done it.”
The overlord looked around. “Sorry, but…what, exactly, did I do?”
“You triggered the Staff of Oblivion, you idiot! Now the whole world’s been destroyed!”
“Really?” The overlord looked around himself again. “Cor.”
“Alright, look. Don’t worry about it. I can try to see if we can get this fixed. If not, we’re in severe trouble. We might starve. Worse, we might not actually get a sequel.”
“You’re going to fix this?“
“I’ll try to.”
The imp plunged a hand into a pocket located somewhere on its hip. The overlord didn’t know imps had pockets, but his opinion quickly changed when the imp drew a mobile phone from it.
“What?” the overlord sat forwards in his chair. “You can’t use that. This is a Fantasy story.”
The imp glared at the overlord with fiery rage, pointing a claw into the black abyss. “Not anymore it isn’t, you dolt! You just blew it all to hell! This might as well be listed in the literary werewolf sci-fi genre and it won’t make a shred of difference. Now shut up and let me do what I do best.”
“Dragging your ass back out of trouble.”
The imp dialled a number on his phone, placing it against his ear. “Hello? Yeah, this is me. Listen, we’ve got ourselves into some trouble. Yeah, hit a dead end. We’re going to need to call in a retcon. Large. What? Oh.” The imp looked around itself at the vast darkness. “Make it extra large. Yeah. Few moments? Sure, I can wait. Nothing better to do. Sweet, thanks. I owe you one.”
“So…” the overlord began, as the imp pressed a button on his phone. “What are you doing, exactly?”
The imp sighed, ‘pocketing’ his phone. “So, here’s the deal. The current plot of this story goes as follows — a hero wakes up to the warm morning sun, ready to take on a new day. He meets his loving family, sets out of the front door for a grand adventure, takes a deep breath of fresh air, then immediately evaporates because of some dumbass overlord who can’t hold onto a magic stick for longer than ten seconds. This is, obviously, not ideal. No conflict, no ending, and absolutely no story. You probably didn’t even star in it.
“So here’s what we’re doing. We’re going back in the story to the point where the planet was in one piece. Then, we’re going to resume it again, and this time, not blow up the planet. Then we can continue our story as normal.”
The overlord blinked. “Really? And how long does that take?”
To answer his question, the world around them began to rebuild itself. First, the floor came back. Then the walls built themselves. The roof sealed the deal, and the decorations around the room unravelled themselves, looking as good as new. Before he knew it, the overlord was back within his castle he so loved and adored.
The imp folded its arms. “And now, I hope that you have taken a very, very important lesson in what happens when you screw around with artefacts that have the potential to blow up entire planets.”
The overlord was not paying attention. He had just noticed that, during the rebuilding process, his roast beef dinner had come back for a second round. He rubbed his hands together, then picked up the plate, eyeing it hungrily. “Oh yes,” he said. “I’ve definitely learnt something today.”
The imp slapped a hand against its forehead. He had a nasty suspicion there would be a lot more ‘accidents’ to come yet.