Chapters 9-400 were boring anyway.
In the years before the Wonderful War, the Wise Old Owl and the Not-Quite-As-Wise-But-Equally-Powerful-And-Ominous Bobby were friends. This all changed when, one fateful day, Bobby felt betrayed by his owl friend, and send his whirling dervishes out to slay him.
Bring me the feathers of that asinine alliterated avian! Bobby did scream from the school yard that served as his base of operations. And so it is written that the dervishes did go after the owl, and the War, called Wonderful because it was neato-tastic, had begun.
We know little of the early years, and what we do comes from hearsay, conjecture, and Saturday morning TV. It is obvious, however, that the war did not go well for Bobby. Even after draining new dervishes to replace those initially lost, the Owl and his followers made short work of all sent after him. Often, only the eyes were left behind, as an ironic way of laughing at the loyal but stupid children trained by Bobby. Even the Scepter of Jesus², once Bobbys most powerful and precious relic, was stolen by a rebel Parrot without a cause, who took it to France, where it was destroyed by ignorance and a foul stench that seemed to come from every direction at once. A raiding party of devious, dervish destroying finches reclaimed the Throne of Zeus and took it back to Arcadia, where it was turned into a planter by a little old Greek woman.
The Owl may have been Old, and Wise, but he had used these same qualities to pick Bobby, who was no fool. After thirteen or fourteen years of losses he took the children of his original followers, most of whom had been killed by the birds or moved to special breeding chambers to ensure a continuing supply of mindless slaves, to the local Home Depot outlet in the middle of the night. There he pilfered an incredible supply of reinforced glass, and erected a wall around his scholarly temple. They were cleaning up the corpses for weeks before the birds finally gave in, and admitted that they had been outsmarted by this invisible shield Bobby the Deity had developed.
A stalemate existed for one thousand years between the two factions. As the pitiful mortal kingdoms rose, fell, ceased to exist, rose, rose, rose, stopped, were indicted, and eventually ceased to matter, the War went on. The new human realms, Bobbys followers having long ago having claimed themselves as a unique species, swore fealty to one side or another. The New World went with Bobby. The Old, with the Owl, as was his preference.
Sneaky dealings broke the Pax Finestra when a young man, appearing to be five years Bobbys senior, appeared before the gates of the glass one day. This man called himself Mithra, although his original name has sometimes been claimed as Johnny the Cultist. A select group of the gibberish-speaking tribesmen of Northern Europe clustered around him, holding sticks, the humans preferred weapon in 3100, and chanting excitedly. With a mighty blow from the long sword he kept at his side, the glass wall surrounding the school shattered, and the second phase of the war began.
Now we are embroiled in this struggle between the forces of Gods. As I write this, the Nuclear Stapler Patrols scour the city around the school for any of Mithras followers. I fear for their safety. The birds will come soon; they always do. Some of us have lost faith in our lord. If Bobby is so powerful, why does Mithra continually push our forces back? Is Mithra the new chosen one of the Owl? Could we be on the wrong side?
Such questions are best kept to oneself, I suppose if one does not want to go into the Blenders of Purity.
