Chapter Text
ACT I
PROLOGUE
One town, brought together in peacefulness,
In fair Arkansas, where we lay our scene,
From pent up emotions break to catastrophe,
Where a child’s schemes make civilians panic.
From forth the very best best of this small town,
A group of determined students go on a quest;
On misadventures to rescue their mayor.
Through life and death to see it through.
To save and make a friend or two.
And the scheming of the enemy’s rage,
Which, but only they, nought could remove,
Is now the multichapter traffic of our stage;
The which if you with very patient ears attend,
Shall witness bad writing, jokes, and friends.
(Shakespeare is rolling in his grave I guarantee)
Now it was on the seventeenth day of January, in the 24th year of the 21st century, that I came in to play. You see, I had a vision. A vision resembling the prophetic visions of biblical times. In this vision, a higher being descended from the heavens and spoke to me. “Be not afraid, child. I am here to grant you a blessing. One of divine grace and of high eloquence.” Then I awoke. It was then clear to me that I had to write a book. Not just any book, but the second greatest book of all time. A book so grandiose that by the time I’ll have finished, it’ll be a thousand page masterpiece. Of course only a genius such as myself could compose such a piece. I just had to write this down immediately. So here I am, two in the morning, writing a revolutionary piece of literature (To go down in the history books), with only half a brain, and a severe lack of sleep. What? Expected something formal and proper? No. Abstract writing is the way my mind works, so it is such that will be put on this script. A view into my psyche? Yes most likely. I don’t know, nor do I have the power to care. Either way, the story will be ingenious, and the people in town will love me once I’ve published this. Oh yes, the story. Guess we should get on then shouldn’t we? But wouldn’t you like to hear more about me first? No? Yes? Okay then? Good? Off we go?
Once upon a time, there lived a small town by the name of Piggott, and Piggott was what it was called. Piggott was an average town, no different from any other town really. You could go straight through Piggott into the next town without even realizing you had crossed the city limits. The people of this town varied from friendly, to dangerous, and from slobbish bums, to snobbish trash. Here, mansions and trash houses live together in harmony. In stating that the town of Piggott was a terrible place to be, would be both an overstatement yet still very much an understatement. In many ways it was good and in many ways it was bad. Thus, neither is more applicable. That’s just how it is.
The school dwellers weren’t too bright either, tending more to take after their parents than to actually apply themselves. The students trudged through the repetitive cycle of school, only for the fact that they could not yet drop out. School seemed a dreadful waste to them, as it does many throughout the world, and it will continue to be so for the foreseeable future.
So in the 20th year, of the 21st century, in the town of Piggott, we find our person of interest, a small boy, the age of 13. 13? Yes 13. Now, this boy was named Christian after the religion of which he was a part of. Now, this boy was the exception to everything I described about Piggott schools. He enjoyed school. He was intelligent, un-athletic, unattractive, and as skinny as a toothpick. So pretty much your average nerd. He was boring. He talked in tongues no one understood, he did his work, he tried to avoid talking to people, and this is what made him truly dull. Yet people had some kind of respect towards him. He didn’t understand it, thinking it more of a “make fun of” type respect, but he took it without complaining.
Three months before the incident, started a sense of emptiness, low and dull. As such he ignored it and moved on. Two months before the incident, his emptiness grew, and a longing feeling had attached itself to him. One month before the incident, an ignorable annoyance had transformed into a blistering need. Christian, pondered what he could be missing. One week before the incident, he couldn’t think straight. His thoughts swirled around in his head like a tornado. The need for something was too strong, yet he couldn’t find what was needed to satiate his thirst. Then, it happened. In a quiet, school hallway, Christian stood at his locker, staring himself in the reflection. His gaze was cold and dead, and behind that gaze was a man driven insane. Then, it hit him. Out from nowhere, in the tranquility of the hall, he yelled.
“Blimey! I need to become evil!”
Now, Christian was not British, in fact he was 101% American, but the force of evil was so great, he turned British.
However, he knew nothing of evil. He hadn’t a clue of what evil entailed. So, since it was the only thing he knew how to do, he studied. Now while he’s studying malology, why don’t we give a better description of him?
He is tall, has glasses, and wears a hoodie year round (purely a style choice). He makes straight A’s, cracks jokes, and he is surrounded by friends and family, all of which he assumes love him. There is no good reason for him to become evil, and that’s the point. Life cannot be cracked down to a science. Things will happen for no reason and out of the blue, such as this, and whether you or he will learn anything from this pile of nothing pretending to be a story… Well, you’ll just have to decide later.
Now where was I? Oh yes…
Now, Christian of course had to study being a villain. So I will now list each book he read, including authors, to demonstrate the dedication it took.
A Comprehensive History of Evil
Roman James IV
The Worst of the Worst
Boyds Hime
How to Build Bombs
Zyjel Senjimin
I am Become Death
Robbert J
Guide to Ruining Your Life
Snatchel Rinfum
The Advanced Guidebook to Mechanics
Strium Frutyh
How to Harness Your Negative Energy
Lopyisme turtorie
How to grow a mustache twirling villain mustache
Priymore Scrits
Joy of Cooking
Martha Stuart
Gradually and slowly, he combed through the books. He learnt of villains before him, from times long past, determined to be the best. He Learnt of Napoleon Bonaparte, Genghis Khan, Ranavalona I, and Ellen Degenerate. He watched politics (both sides), daytime television, Live Leak, cat videos, and every Asylum film ever made! Finally, to finish off the brutal ritual, he suffered through hours of the agonizing British Broadcasting Channel! How he was able to withstand the BBC without shriveling into dust is unknown.
Now, the boy’s parents began to worry about their only son. Of course about all the evil books he’s reading, right? No! He started drinking coffee, every morning, at exactly 5:00 p.m. In normal circumstances, this would be seen as normal, except for one tiny detail. Christian doesn’t drink coffee.
They called in priests. Yet every one said the same thing. “There is nothing I can do.”
So there was nothing they could do.
And Christian Spiraled…
His mental state deteriorated. It melted and rotted away…
Down…
Further down the rabbit hole into oblivion…
Until finally it was done.
What lay before him was his magnum opus, a marvel to modern sciences.
In any sense of the word, it was magnificent.
And so at 12:26:32 A.M, on the night of June 6th, he brung the machine to life. Each part hummed like an orchestra, moved like a ballet, shined like a million stars.
And with a final loud crash…
The world went white…