Chapter 1
Part 4: Beards
It was a beautiful Saturday eve. ArmorCity brilliantly lit up the mountains circling the desert landscape. When ArmorCity had originally been built by the all-knowing Daniel McNeely, he placed it in the middle of a desert. This desert remained nameless, mainly because no one could remember what it was originally named and who named it, so it would remain âthe desertâ by the city residents. âThe desertâ (which will be referred to without the obnoxious quotation marks from now on) is surrounded by massive mountains. Before itâs assumed the mountains were named âthe mountainsâ, they werenât. No one remembers how or why or who or what but somewhere along the line someone decided to call them ArmorRidge. And so everyone else called them that.
The desert was as dangerous as it was beautiful. Frankly, it wasnât very beautiful, but it was pretty dangerous nonetheless. The desert crawled with nasty things, most of them small and cute, but some of them were big and frightening. No one really knew what was out there, except that there were things. A few outcasts of society make their homes there, free of societal norms and the judging public. Some live in caves, others in makeshift buildings. One particular outcast, Clancy, was notorious for being excessively alienated. He almost never communicated with the outcast community, and when he did, it was only to get something he desired. He was fairly famous in the eyes of the outcasts (who will, from now on, be referred to as âthe othersâ) because of his strangeness. He had a ravishing black beard and scraggly, black hair. His clothes were tattered remains of what once was probably a suit. The outcasts couldnât picture him without it, and no one remembered where he got it from. Clancy had a quaint shack a few miles west of the border of ArmorRidge, wherein he spent almost all his time.
On this particular Saturday eve in this particular section of the desert particularly a few miles west of those particular mountains, a particular Clancy returned home with his particular black beard and his particular rags wrapped around his particularly peculiar body. He lazily kicked his wooden door open and stumbled onto his bed, wobbling left and right. The bed frame was an old, rusted out iron frame that he found in a dune one morning. The mattress was made of some unidentified skin from a desert dweller. As he lay on his bed, Clancy looked around his cozy little shack. The door was positioned on the wall opposite his bed. He had a few broken mahogany cabinets lying on the floor next to the door that had some remains of food in them. The cabinets and wood that built the house were parts of an old house he found, albeit a bit knocked over at the time. He had some firewood and a brick fireplace coupled to the wall adjacent his bed. His home was pretty old and wasnât constructed perfectly, but it served him well.
He liked his home a lot.
He slipped into a light nap. A loud knock prompted a jump in his rattled bones. He lazily arose from the frame, which resulted in a loud creak of relief. He pushed the door open with his right arm (probably because that was his dominant arm and the arm that was opposite the hinge). He found himself face-to-face with a peculiar old man, quite resembling himself. This man had a grayish-white beard and grayish-white hair instead of the dark black, but otherwise the two looked very similar. Clancy cleared his throat.
âWhat?â
âHi, my name is Gandalf. Can I help you with something?â
âNo. Iâm fine. Goodbye.â
Clancy attempted shutting the door which yielded nothing but a hurt foot.
âCan you help me with something, then?â
Clancy let out an enormous sigh.
âFine. What.â
âI need you to help me find my cave.â
âYour cave.â
âYes. My cave.â
âWhere is this cave?â
Gandalf looked past Clancy and into his fireplace.
âYes...?â Clancy slowly said.
âI see my cave.â
Clancy stepped aside as the stranger barged his way in. Clancy, not too familiar with social conventions, simply stopped and stared. Gandalf proceeded to climb into the fireplace.
âUh, what are you doing?â
âI found my cave.â
Gandalf stood up, exposing only his lower body and legs to Clancyâs eyes. Clancy hadnât made any notice towards his clothing until now, but Gandalf was wearing rags that were stitched to resemble a robe. He thought he looked odd.
âThat isnât your cave. Get out.â
âNO!â
Gandalf fell forward, destroying every brick that composed the small chimney. Clancy was initially shocked by the erroneous strength the stranger possessed, but it was overpowered by his rage.
âGET. OUT.â
He could feel saliva foaming out of either sides of his mouth.
âNO. THIS IS MY CAVE. GET OUT.â
Clancy ran up to Gandalf and gave him a mighty heave, but saw it was fruitless because the stranger didnât move an inch.
âYOU SHALL NOT PASS.â
Clancy backed away and threw his fists into the air. An aurora formed around his feet and he bursted through the air, picking Gandalf up off the ground smashing through the fireplace and ultimately the wall. The two flew through the air for about 30 feet, wherein Gandalf was dropped and Clancy skidded across the ground. The two engaged in a battle of the century. [But to save you from destroying your own imagination, I am not going to describe it. It was just that bad. Okay, maybe I will. A little.] Clancy had destroyed the wall and the chimney that were supporting his shack, which caused it all to topple over. The two flew thirty feet as previously said, and then the real fight began. They soared in great heights above the heavens themselves. Clouds recoiled in the horrors that these two condoned to each other. The two were fairly unbeknownst of their powers because they hadnât much practice; however, minimal practice was needed to cause the horrors previously mentioned. After flying for a great time, which was probably an allotment of an hour or so, Gandalf fell to the ground, splattering sand all about the place. Clancy descended and and glared at his fallen enemy.
The black bearded introvert felt a small amount of remorse, after gazing at Gandalf for a while. The two were very close in appearance, and Clancy, although a non-believer in social conventions, thought that Gandalf mustâve had a hard time regardless of where he came from. Gandalfâs tattered clothes screamed these qualities.
Clancy turned to see that his shack was gone. He was entirely oblivious to the devastation because his rage for Gandalf took his focus entirely. Clancy functioned like the fictional character Sonny, whom he had heard about from the outcasts. Evidently, this Sonny character could only focus on one thing, and when he concentrated hard enough, he could unleash ultimate destruction on it. Gandalf seemed to have possessed the same power. Clancy fell to his knees and sobbed. He sobbed harder than what was previously possible. He went beyond the sob line and broke it. In simpler terms, he was a cry baby. Despite his former remorse for the white bearded introvert, rage re-consumed his body and he screamed so loudly that the outcasts called back in response, almost like wolves.
Clancy, now furious, turned to the fallen Gandalf and searched his pockets for something, anything, that would help him find those the character loved so he could destroy them too. As revenge for his shack, no less. He eventually found a wrapper, an old book, and what appeared to be a scrap of paper with some writing in it. He stuck the book and the wrapper into his knapsack (or as otherwise called, his pants) and uncrumpled the piece of paper. He read it aloud.
âHi Big G. Sorry about the accident. I want you to come over so we can have tea and biscuits with the robot. I live on the Imaginarium, in case the dino toe broke more than your frontal lobe. TOODLES.
Sincerely,
Stormâ
To his astonishment, there was more on the backside.
âFOR REAL THOUGH HELP ME. GO TO THAT CASTLE THING IN THE MIDDLE AND HELP.â
Clancy decided he must venture to ArmorCity [as he assumed anyway] and fulfill Gandalfâs mission. He decided [impulsively] that this Gandalf person had a mission to fulfill, and now he must do it. Also he thought this âStormâ person sounded nice and he was hungry for those biscuits. [I mean, who can resist biscuits?]
Clancy turned and wandered valiantly away from the destruction. His majestic beard and his great hair flowed in the desert wind. Blowing sands covered his tracks. Clancy descended down a dune, ultimately being unseen above the horizon.
