The knight knelt alone in the cold light of dawn, waiting for the voice of God. Waiting for guidance. Waiting for forgiveness.
"I failed you, my king." His whispered words cut as deeply as any sword. The truth of them cut deeper.
Still he waited in the silence of the warrior's chapel. A shaft of sunlight, knifing through one of the narrow windows brought the only warmth as the sun rose higher. With the warmth came his message.
Your king lives.
Tears flowed freely down his cheeks as he choked back a sob of relief. "Show me, Divine One."
You will know before the day is done.
He bowed his head in thanks. Aegis, last of the king's personal guard wept openly as he began to pray.
"Grant me honor in life. Honor in battle. Let me vanquish my enemies. If I must die today, let my spirit dwell with my fathers in the Hall of Champions this night."
Hidden behind the curtain, Dwight bugged his eyes out at the reaction of the man in the aluminum foil armor.
"Who is this guy?" he whispered to his friend Tommy.
"Beats me," Tommy replied. "Whenever I see him approach the photo booth, I duck back here and say whatever comes into my head. Watch."
Eat Spaghettios tonight.
"Yea, divine one, I shall eateth Spaghettios."
"See?" Tommy whispered. "He'll do whatever you say. You try."
"Okay," Dwight whispered, and then in a louder voice spoke:
Submit your opening to Evil Editor. It will be good for you.
There was a pause in the booth until a troubled voice said, "Shit. Okay, who is this?"