[Crusader]

 King for a day?  Yea, right.  More like JOKE for a day.  The Modern Day Crusader found himself ambushed by derision at Climax Control.  Despite his instincts going against the bestowed path awarded, The Crusader forged ahead.  He was playing the game.  SCW’s game.  It was his way of infiltrating the system with his serum of truth.  Sadly, his instincts proved to be true.  Besmirched at the gate on live television!  The Modern Day Crusader looked like a joke, a fool, a barb a…dare I say it…CONSPIRACY THEORIST.

This required atonement.  The Modern Day Crusader’s image needed patchwork ASAP.  A powder keg of elixir destined to propel The Crusader back to the upper echelon of SCW.

What could this elixir be?  Where, oh where would The Modern Day Crusader find such a potent potion?  There were no mega shows in the near future.  No title shots within sight.  All appeared to be lost.

Alas!  The Modern Day Crusader is, after all, KING for a day.  While it might not have been yesterday, the title remains true for tomorrow.  With this power comes great responsibility.  The responsibility to promote oneself into prime position.  The opportunity to snare the ever elusive atonement.  The opportunity to cleanse all strains of muck away from a once burgeoning image.

The Modern Day Crusader used (some might say abused) his bestowed power and booked himself in a match against the leading in-ring force of SCW.  The Modern Day Crusader twisted the narrative, placing his name at the top of the marquee against Calvin Harris.

A man of humility, The Modern Day Crusader understood that this abuse of power was unbecoming.  He didn’t want to emulate those he loathed.  Therefore, he requested the match be a Non-Title contest.  Calvin’s prestigious title would not be on the line.

You see, The Modern Day Crusader isn’t after gold – not yet.  He’s after notoriety.  He’s after recognition.  He desires a dash of Febreze to smother the stank of yesterday’s embarrassment.

Half of the task has already been completed.  Now for the second portion.  This portion will be far tougher than the former.  The Modern Day Crusader must defeat Calvin Harris.

A return to the states, The Modern Day Crusader entered into the Camp of Truth with an air of defeat.  Sulking, he trudged past several of the withheld crusaders, those left behind to tend to the camp while the others toured the continent of Australia.  In unison, they held their tongues, wary that a cross word could draw the unwanted ire of their crestfallen leader.

“What a waste.”

The Modern Day Crusader tore away his kingly glove, hurling it into a nearby fire.  Slowly, the shimmer began to dull as nature’s heat eroded what was once an eye catching accoutrement.  The Modern Day Crusader watched the erosion.  Glitter turned to gray, gray turned to black before black turned to ash.

“You see that?” he pointed.

“See and smell,” Crusader 1 replied.

“That right there is our message, currently.  We’ve yet to make a dent, Crusader 1.  This King for a Day was supposed to provide a platform high enough where our voice would echo throughout the masses.  Instead – instead, we were a laughing stock on Sunday.  I’m beginning to think this entire foray is all for naught.”

The glove singed away, leaving nothing behind but darkened particles destined to be carried by an incoming gust of forgotten wind.  

“I wouldn’t put so much stock into one encounter, sir.  Sure, it wasn’t optimal.  However King for a Day has provided us with the luxury of facing SCW’s most notable wrestler.”

“True.”

“Calvin Harris, the SCW champion.  If you defeat him, people will stand and take notice.  That, I promise you.”

The Modern Day Crusader, proving he was no pyromaniac, turned his attention away from the fire and toward a bunch of snake carcasses drying out in the arid climate.  He snared one and tore into it like a long, chewy strip of jerky.  With a half-smile, he turned to Crusader 1.

“Tell me about this Calvin Harris.”

“Well, he’s the SCW World Champ…”

Silence.  It was apparent the crusaders were ignorant in regards to Calvin Harris and his SCW accomplishments, save his current title reign.

“Oh, wait!” Crusader 1 yelled.

“Yes?”

“He’s a heel!”

“A heel?  What is a heel?”

“Professional wrestling nomenclature for bad guy, sir.”

“Oh, so I must be a toe, then.”

More silence.  While not entirely sure what the professional wrestling nomenclature for good guy was…everyone in camp, save The Modern Day Crusader, was pretty sure it wasn’t toe.

“Yea, we can go with that,” Crusader 1 appeased his delicate leader.

“Excuse me…” a foreign voice breathed life into the dying conversation.  It belonged to a fellow crusader.

“Yes, Crusader 19.”

“I think I have a little insight into Calvin Harris.”

“Really?”  The Modern Day Crusader stepped forward, gripping Crusader 19 by the shoulder.  â€œSpeak on, tell us more about this…this…Calvin Harris.”

“Well…” Crusader 19 stammered.  He didn’t appear to be very bright.  You know the type.  Something about the eyes.  Just not a lot going on behind them.  However, he seemed to have enough confidence to voice his opinion – which is more than most.  â€œI believe he has a habit of urinating on public property.”

“WHAT?!”  The Modern Day Crusader was appalled.  â€œTell me more of this devilry.”

“Well…again, if I’m remembering my secunar life…”

“Secular.”

“Yes, sorry sir…secular life.  If I’m remembering my secular life correctly, then I remember images of Calvin Harris on the back of cars.  A stream of urine spraying from his, well, his pelvic region while he turns around, smiling.”

“My goodness.”  The Modern Day Crusader released his passive, aggressive grip of Crusader 19’s shoulder.  He stared into the waning sky.  His head shook.  â€œIt looks like this situation is direr than we imagined, crusaders.  This Calvin Harris is not only a public urinate…he’s not only a miscreant…but he’s some type of cult leader!”

A collective gasp filled the tenuous air.  The Camp of Truth was stunned.  

“We have got to track down one of these brain washed followers of Calvin Harris.  It’s our only way of obtaining valuable information on this Calvin Harris.  Valuable information about their leader will go a long way in assuring victory.”

The Camp of Truth rallied behind their leader’s cry.  It had the potential to be a twofold victory.  A win would not only propel The Modern Day Crusader into SCW prominence – it would also help stymie the machinations of a cruel, prank playing cult leader.

A small cabal of crusaders lingered on the fringe of wilderness.  A small, two lane road gashed through nature providing steady, albeit fairly light traffic.  The Modern Day Crusader, Crusader 1, Crusader 19 and a few unnamed crusaders crouched in wait.

Suddenly, a puff of smoke rose in the distance.

“There it is!” the Modern Day Crusader pointed, “the sign!”

Crusader 1 nodded toward the unnamed crusaders.  They hopped onto the road and lay down on the pavement, pretending to be in need of assistance.  

“Any minute now,” The Modern Day Crusader assuaged the group’s uncertainty.  He was ironclad in his belief that a Calvinized vehicle would be rounding the corner any second.

Seconds turned to minutes, time crawled by.  Crusader 1 released a heavy sigh.  â€œI’m going to check on them.”

“Wait, just one more minute, I’m sure…”

“Sir, it’s been nearly five minutes.  Our covered wagon would be a half mile past us by now.”

The Modern Day Crusader nodded, “Good point.  We need to be sure and slow our pace.  A speeding covered wagon can be highly dangerous.”

“Sure.  Anyway, I’m going to see what that smoke signal was about.”

Crusader 1 hustled away.  The two crusaders on the pavement sat up, looking toward the brush.

“Can we get off the road now?”

“No!”

“Oh, okay.”  They returned to their original positions.

“Crusader 19, tell me more about this Calvin Harris.”  Looking to pass the time, The Modern Day Crusader sought further information about the SCW World Champion AND active cult leader.

“Well…he’s pretty mischievous.  Always playing pranks in the newspaper.”

“The newspaper?”

“Yea, that’s where he gained most of his fame.  I’m going to guess that was before his wrestling career.  I mean, he was pretty young in those days.”

“How young?”

“A kid, sir.”

“Ah, a natural born criminal.  Those are the worst, Crusader 19.  Can you tell me anything else?”

“He has a pet tiger, I think.”

“What?!”

“Yea, a pet tiger, I’m sure of it now.  I can see the tiger in the newspaper with him.”

“Does this tiger accompany him to the ring?”

“I…I don’t think so.  But I wouldn’t really know.  This is the first time I’ve left the Camp of Truth in over a year and, well, we don’t have any television back at the camp.”

“For good reason, Crusader 19.  Don’t you ever forget that.”

“Never, sir.”

Crusader 1 reappeared, breathing hard.  The Modern Day Crusader waited, impatiently.

“Well?”

In between pants, Crusader 1 replied, “They just wanted to know how much longer we were going to wait out here.”

“Idiots.”

“To be fair, we have been out here for nearly three hours.”

“Answer me this, Crusader 1.  What are three measly hours in the grand scheme of things?  And, by grand scheme I mean the saving of society?”

“Alright, I get it.  I told them to stay put and to only release the smoke if they see a Calvin Harris disciple.”

“Good.”

So they continued to wait.  The Modern Day Crusader anticipated a short siege.  Based on the intonation within Crusader 19’s declaration, he assumed these ‘Calvin Harris’ stickers were in abundance.  The idea that they might be forced to wait awhile never entered his overactive mind.

Another hour passed.

“Look!” one of the random crusaders shouted.  They had at some point over the previous hour removed themselves from the road and back into the foliage.  A puff of smoke appeared in the sky.  The Modern Day Crusader lit up like a flash bulb.

“This has got to be it!  Crusaders, back into position!”  

The two crusaders hustled into the road, re-assuming their vulnerable positions.  With baited breath, they waited.  Much like before, they were greeted with silence.  The Modern Day Crusader turned toward Crusader 1.

“What’s the deal?”

Crusader 1 replied,” I’ll go find out.”

Crusader 1 scurried off.  The two crusaders started to sit up.  The Modern Day Crusader shout whispered over the road, “STAY DOWN!”  They went back to their stretched out positions.

“This is getting ridiculous,” The Modern Day Crusader complained.  With his hands atop his hips, he shook his head and looked at Crusader 19.  â€œYou’re sure about this sticker?”

“Absolutely, sir.   I remember seeing it on multiple occasions.  Very vulgar.  My mother hated it.”

“It sounds like the stuff of nightmares, Crusader 19.  I only hope we aren’t too late.  I’ve been hearing about this microchip that people are putting into their debit cards.  Perhaps these stickers have been turned into chips as well.”

“That would be terrible.”

“Indeed.”

Crusader 1 bounded through brush, panting much like before.  â€œSo, what’s the deal?” The Modern Day Crusader asked.  Crusader 1 doubled over, placing his hands atop his knees.  He gasped for air.  â€œWe’ve got to up your cardio, Crusader 1.”  Crusader 1 nodded, unable to argue that point.

“They were just wondering when we were gonna call it a day,” Crusader 1 finally found enough oxygen to put a coherent sentence together.

“Impatient fools.  You go and tell them we will be here until one of these hedonistic stickers travels down this very road.”

Crusader 1 looked up at his leader with dread in his eyes.  â€œDoes that mean I have to head back over there?”

“I’m afraid so.”

About to throw something resembling a fit, the sound of a roaring engine stole their attention.  It was coming from the opposite way.  

“Did we have smoke signalers over there, sir?”

“Uh, no.”  The Modern Day Crusader felt slightly stupid.  He forgot the road ran both ways.

The two crusaders remained in the road, determined to perform their task.  A mid-nineties truck rounded the corner.  The vehicle roared at a tremendous speed.  Crusader 1’s eyes widened.

“Sir.”  He tugged at his leader’s arm.  â€œSir!”  He continued to try and grab his leader’s attention.  The Modern Day Crusader was too busy trying to fathom how they overlooked the other side of the road.  â€œSIR!!!”

Finally, The Modern Day Crusader looked toward Crusader 1, “WHAT?!”

“The crusaders in the road, they are going to be crushed!”

“By jiminy, you are right!  Get out of the road my little crusaders!”  The two crusaders looked at one another, unsure if this was some sort of test.  They remained planted.  The truck continued to roar down the road, nearing their bodies.

“That truck isn’t stopping, sir.”

“Well, Crusader 1, somebody needs to stop it.”

“I’m glad you’re willing to step up for the team, sir…a true leader.”

The Modern Day Crusader threw Crusader 1 into the road.  He stumbled in front of the two vulnerable crusaders.  Horror filled his body as he found himself in between the truck and the crusaders.  He thrust both arms forward and screamed.

“STOP!  PLEASE!!!”

Tires screeched against pavement.  Smoke shot out from behind the vehicle.  The truck nearly spun out of control.  The Modern Day Crusader’s vision was blurred.  Smoke filled the entire scene.  He coughed, fighting through the rubber scented fog.  He reached the scene.

“Anybody hurt?”

“No,” an agitated Crusader 1 responded.  He stood, alongside both nameless crusaders.

“Great, I guess we’d better check on this driver.”

“SIR!” Crusader 19 called out from within the fog.  The Modern Day Crusader fought through the fog, finding his stirred follower.  A hand pointed at the back window of the trick.

There it was.

The image of Calvin pissing.

Crusader 1 saddled up alongside his leader.  At first, he didn’t understand what had snared the awe of his leader.  He took a glance for himself and his mouth fell open.

“This is a sign, crusaders.”

Nobody could argue with their leader.  

“Now, we need to do what’s right.  We need to act in a toe like manner, as good guys.  We need to help whoever helms this vehicle.  So, I say we do what any Good Samaritan would do.”  The Modern Day Crusader paused before continuing, “Yank them out of the vehicle, bound them with rope and drag them to camp where we will tie them to a tree and interrogate them in an aggressive manner until they spill the proverbial beans.”

“Yes sir!” the crusaders replied.

The body of a skinny, shapeless man in his late thirties has been tied to the base of a large tree.  Duct tape covered his mouth.  Whatever shirt the man may have been wearing had long since been removed.  His scrawny, flat chest featured a few black, scraggly hairs.  The Modern Day Crusader looked down upon the man with disgust.  Crusader 19, standing behind, held a pair of tweezers.

“Okay, I’m going to ask once more…what is your leader’s weakness!”

“I…” the man looked around for help.  He truly had no idea what was going on.  â€œI don’t know?”

“Crusader 19!”

Crusader 19 stepped forward and plucked a hair from the man’s chest.

“AHHHH!!!”

Several crusaders looked away with one noting, “This is too much.  Too much!”

The Modern Day Crusader crept forward.  The tortured man’s head faced the ground.  He wheezed, his chest heaved – he was under a great deal of duress.  The Modern Day Crusader bent his knees and looked up, into the man’s eyes.

“You have at least fifty hairs remaining.  That means we can be here all day.  So, just tell me what I need to know in order to defeat Calvin Harris.  There’s no need for you to go through anymore of this punishment.”

“But I don’t know a Calvin Harris…” the man’s words were soaked with desperation.  If only he had known Calvin Harris.  If he had, he would have divulged every tidbit of information, including where Mr. Harris buys his socks.

“Wrong answer you heathen!  Crusader 19!!”

Crusader 19 approached with the tweezers in his hand, ready to clamp and pull another hair.  

“No!  Wait!” the man pleaded.

The Modern Day Crusader thrust his arm forward, palm up, stopping Crusader 19.

“Yes?”

“He…He…he shops at the GAP.”

“The GAP?!”  The Modern Day Crusader looked toward Crusader 1.

“It’s a, I guess you’d call it trendy…a trendy clothing store with cheaply made shirts and jeans and stuff.”

“Hmm…what else?”

The man looked up into the sky, trying to conjure another lie.  â€œHe…he likes McRib.”

“MCRIB?!”  Again, The Modern Day Crusader looked toward Crusader 1.

“It’s a special menu item McDonalds throws out every so often.  Basically a rib smothered in BBQ sauce between two buns.”

“Sounds delightful.”

“Well, until you realize it’s either fake as hell or McDonalds breeds cows with chewable bones.”

“What?  They chew the bone?”  This caught The Modern Day Crusader’s attention.

“Well, yea, you just bite into the sandwich.  The bone doesn’t stop you.”

“My goodness.  They are weakening the bones of animals so they can weaken the bones of men!  Can’t you see?  By distributing this MCRIB to the masses, they are decalcifying the human body.  People’s bones will become brittle and fragile.  We have got to stop this McRib!”

“Whoa, whoa,” Crusader 1 spat back, “slow down, sir.  For starters, McRib is fucking great, okay?  That factoid aside…how about Calvin Harris?”

“What about him?”

“Well, if he’s eating McRibs all the time, wouldn’t HE have weakened bones?”

The Modern Day Crusader stood upright and pondered the notion.  His eyes lit up, “Well done, Crusader 1!  You are spot on!  We now know his weakness!  He has weak bones!”

The prisoner released a massive sigh of relief.  A tear slid down his cheek – freedom was within sight.  He began to sob, lightly.  The Modern Day Crusader gave him a healthy pat on the chest, “Chin up, sir!  You have performed a great service to society!”

Instinctively, The Modern Day Crusader balled up his hand, snaring what remained of the man’s chest hair.  He yanked his arm away and, in doing so, tore the rest of the man’s hair from his chest.

“AHHHHH!!!”

The Modern Day Crusader’s back was to the man.  Upon hearing the scream, he deduced, “You see?  Shouts of joy over his contribution.  Untie him, Crusader 1 and indoctrinate him into the Camp of Truth.  I think we have just discovered a new crusader!”

With the sun set, night descended upon the Camp of Truth.  A fire provided natural illumination as several crusaders hopped around it, chanting incantations while the former Calvin Harris follower drank libations from a wooden bowl.

The Modern Day Crusader stood in the distance with Crusader 1, witnessing the man’s cleansing.  

“It’s a beautiful thing, Crusader 1…to save a man from the cultish, nefarious world beyond these borders.”

“Sure is, sir.”

“Tomorrow you will teach me these submission moves, okay?”

“Sure.  The Boston Crab, Sharpshooter, Camel Clutch…all of that stuff.  If Calvin Harris has McRib-like bones, those moves will surely destroy him.”

“Tremendous work, Crusader 1.  My only concern now surrounds this tiger of his.  Do you think the tiger will be an issue?”

“I’m pretty sure any and every law in regards to events hosted inside public venues prohibits tigers.”

“Well, let’s hope so.  It would make sense…UNLESS the lawmakers are Calvin Harris followers.”

“Sir!” one of the crusaders shouted, standing over the kneeling, former Calvin Harris follower.

The Modern Day Crusader approached, he placed his hand on the man’s forehead.  â€œDo you, former heathen of the secular world denounce all former practices and swear to follow my lead, no matter what?”

“Yes!”

“And do you, former heathen of the secular world swear to obey the Book of Truth?”

“Yes!”

“Do you, former heathen of the secular world also swear to put forth an honest effort in expanding the Book of Truth for all future followers?”

“Yes!”

“And, finally, do you, former heathen of the secular world denounce Calvin Harris and all his wicked teachings?”

“Hell yes!”

“Alright then, I now pronounce you…Crusader 37!”

The man rose with pride.  He and The Modern Day Crusader hugged.

“Tonight shall be a great night as we celebrate the birth of another brother.  Sunday shall be even greater my fellow crusaders as your fearless leader defeats the SCW World Champion Calvin Harris!”

“HUZZAH!” the crusaders yelled in unison.

And, with that, the party raged on throughout the night.