Author's Note : I've been gone for what seems like a year. Apologies. I'm a horribly undetermined person and I was really just milling about my life. Anyway, looked up this old account again and decided to at least try and make thirty chapters of The Tale.
Every few generations or so, there comes a person with intelligence, charisma, strength, and pure-heartedness so great that he (or she) is revered as a hero.
This is the story of the man who thinks he is that person. He is wrong.
When we last left Jack, about a year ago, he had only just discovered his secret power : A sense of humour so terrible that anyone who listens to his jokes die painfully.
He tried to use this power for good, but usually by the time he got ear plugs into every innocent bystander, the bank robbers would have escaped.
And then there was that time he tried to prevent the assassination of a high-ranking UN diplomat, but ended up killing the assassin, the diplomat, the several hundred people in the hall, and the hot dog guy outside the building. In hindsight, perhaps it wasn't a good idea to use the microphone.
So Jack decided to use his powers for evil. He reasoned that there was nothing more evil than forcing your jokes upon people.
He was wrong. The one thing more evil than that was having your victims die after you told them jokes.
And now, he was the most evil overlord in the land. And there was only one land. And he was in it. And he was an evil overlord.
He sat in his throne, made from the corpses of many, many teddy bears*. His most trusted general had requested an audience with him.
General Rip-Fang (Formerly Mr Bernie Holovitchzkovitz, a mental hospital escapee who saw the logic in joining Jack's crusade) went through the procedures required of all who Overlord J deigned to talk to, namely an hour-long interpretive dance.
Overlord J's brow furrowed. "Yeah, I can't interpret that," he admitted. "What is it?"
"Sire! A young, handsome adventurer has romanced your most beautiful daughter and has challenged you to a fight to the death!" General Rip-Fang screeched.
"I don't have a daughter," Jack snapped.
"Really?" The general asked. "Does that mean I can marry her without asking for your permission?"
"Who are we even talking about?" Jack was confused. "No, you don't need my permission. You need her permission, though, whoever she is."
Rip-Fang looked disappointed. "Anyway," he continued, "This hero goes by the name of Joshua The Brave. He demanded that you show up, your mouth covered to prevent you from using your most fantastic jokes against him. In return, he will come with his face covered in a paper bag so that his extremely rugged good looks do not turn the crowd against you."
"So, his surname is The Brave? Is that French or something?" Jack asked.
"No, sire. I believe it is a title given to him for his courageous deeds."
"Well, it sure wasn't given to him for cowardice!" Jack barked. "Challenge accepted!"