Brennan Lee Mulligan and the Printer Cartridge of the Gods

Once upon a time in Mexico, Brennan Lee Mulligan was sitting at his computer in a dark, little bungalow. The only light came from his screen, where he furiously, and blurry-eyedily typed. He wiped the sleep out of his left eye, and drove his fingers into the keyboard until he had finished. He gave his writing a quick scan, checking for mistakes and nonsense, getting rid of some of the nonsense, but leaving most, and saved the document. Then, with a deep sigh of triumph and a stretch of victory, he pressed Apple + P to print.
He closed his eyes and smiled to himself as his printer sprang to life, ready to vomit out a piece of ink splattered paper. Its wheels began to turn, but the little machine choked. Brennan’s heart stopped. He waited for a second, not blinking, waiting for the hiccup to pass. He turned to the printer to see that the little green light had turned red. The printer icon at the bottom of his screen bounced up and down and he became very concerned. He clicked it and discovered that to his dismay, his trusty little printer had run out of ink. Brennan’s fists turned into tight little rocks of destruction and he slammed them down on his desk. The ground quaked and his chair squeaked. He raised the angry fists in the air and shouted to the Gods.
“NOOOOOO!” he cried. There was a flash of lightning and a little boy, holding a guitar sprang up through the wooden floorboards. He played an Em chord and shot back into the ground, leaving behind a hole in the floor. A cloud surged through the front door and into Brennan’s study, through the double bolted door and a booming laughter began to circulate the room. Paper from his previous documents shot around, whizzing past his ears. The cloud took the shape of a large man, standing ten feet tall, hunched over a bit though, because the ceilings were not that high. A bushy gray beard formed, along with a pair of bushy gray eyebrows. A large, surprisingly muscular body took form next, followed by piercingly, icy, blue eyes, and a white toga. The man was clad in a pair of classically Greek sandals.
The God, Zeus, Master of Olympus, stood before Brennan, who sat in his chair, with an eyebrow raised, his hand reaching for a plastic bat, covered in aluminum foil.
“Wait!” Zeus cried, sounding alarmed. “I don’t want any trouble. I just came to help.” Brennan took up the bat and stood up. Zeus held up his hands, pleadingly, as a buffer. His eyes were much more fearful than in the illustrations of him in the old myths.
“You mean like the last time you tried to help me?” He asked, holding it up, ready for a swing. He glared into Zeus’ eyes.
“But I got Demeter to help you grow it back!” Zeus said, flinching a little. Brennan ripped off his shoe, revealing a wooden foot, complete with little branches for toes. The largest toe had a small leave sprouting from it, which wiggled a bit. He replaced the shoe and stomped his foot down. He stabbed the bat at Zeus and ordered that he leave.
“Wait!” Zeus said. “I can really help you, this time!” He raised one of his knees and covered his face, shielding himself from the bat. He squealed like a little girl until Brennan rolled his eyes and lowered the bat.
“You’ve got ten seconds before I send you shooting through the universal stratosphere.” He said, gripping the bat tightly. Zeus lowered his knee and uncovered his face. With a small sniffle, Zeus began his tale.
“Well, I noticed you ran out of ink for your printer-“
“It’s toner…” Brennan interrupted.
“Right, toner. So, I wanted to help you get some more.”
“It’s just a quick drive to Wall-Mart,” Brennan replied fiercely.
“Not if you take this,” said Zeus holding out a picture of what looked like an ordinary printer cartridge. Brennan peered at it, rolled his eyes, and raised the bat.
“Wait!” Zeus wailed, like a baby. “This is no ordinary ink cartridge! It’s my personal ink cartridge! It will never run out and it prints in more colors than you can ever imagine!” He got down on his knees. “Just put away the bat, and I’ll tell you how to get it.” Brennan didn’t move.
“If it’s your printer cartridge, just hand it over?.”
Zeus’ head dropped. “It’s been stolen from me,” he said, mournfully. Brennan rolled his eyes.
“Zeus, you really need to keep track of your stuff, man. This is ridiculous!” A tear welled up in the Olympian’s eye. “Oh, don’t start crying again!”
“I’m sorry!” Zeus sobbed. He waved his hand a cloud appeared in his hand and took the form of a handkerchief, into which he blew his nose like a foghorn.
“Well, stop your crying and let’s get that cartridge back!” Brennan started toward the door. “Come on!” Zeus ducked his head and followed him out into the empty driveway. Brennan turned, the foil wrapped bat still clenched in his hand. ‘Well…do your thing.” He said, impatiently. Zeus held out his hand and a lightning bolt formed in its palm. He wrapped his fingers around the bolt and hurled it into the ground, creating a wall of white light, which Brennan felt as if he’d run into at full speed.
They now stood in the mostly empty, midnight parking lot of a Wal Mart Supercenter. The fluorescent lights flickered tantalizingly in the dusty air. Sketchy characters and unfavorably dressed hooligans walked in the doors as more of the same walked out with some sort of appliance or gizmo. They walked through the doors, Zeus receiving the same look as everyone else. After a long trek through the absurdly large toy section, they came to a door in the corner of the store. The flickering lights and bad smell told Brennan that the Chupacabra had chosen this musty place as his lair. The large neon sign with an arrow pointing at the door also helped a bit. A satyr, with a pair of sharpened horns opened the door and crossed his arms. They didn’t stop.
“You’re here for the ink cartridge, I assume,” he said in a venomous voice. Brennan clenched his fist around the silver bat and quickened his pace until he broke into a full charge. The satyr lowered his head and charged, roaring. A little boy stood watching, his eyes aglow with excitement. Zeus saw the boy and acted accordingly.
“Look! It’s a giant piece of broccoli!” He shouted. The light in the boys eyes was snuffed out. He shrieked in horror and ran down the aisle, knocking over a display of Transformers. Brennan and the satyr came within two paces of one another. The bat cut through the air in a flash of white light and there was an explosion that knocked over the nearby shelves. The satyr shot through the ceiling, pursued by a trail of silver stars. As dust and sheetrock fell from the ceiling, an evil cackle emanated from dark room behind the sketchy doorway. Brennan charged through the door, his chrome club flailing. At least a dozen foul creatures shot of out of the room, each chased by a tail of shimmering light. There was a snarl and a roar. Then, in a cloud of smoke, silver stars trailing behind, the roaring beast was jettisoned through the ceiling and into another dimension. Brennan stumbled out of the room with the bat in one hand, still gleaming in the flickering light, and in the other, the glowing ink cartridge. Zeus jumped up and down, clapping, like a cheerleader, upon seeing the ink cartridge. When Brennan walked toward him, he hurled another thunderbolt at the ground and the pair was back in Brennan’s driveway. Brennan walked through the door, sat down at his desk and put the cartridge into his printer. Immediately, paper started spewing from the tray like a fountain. It was awesome.