The Parable of the Sketchy Stranger
One fine evening young Fort ColorCastle was playing at home, alone, his watchful parents having left for a few hours to enjoy a well-deserved respite.
Suddenly, he heard a knock at the door. Though his parents had often told him otherwise, he investigated, curious.
When he opened the door, outside stood a billowy figure in a large, dark overcoat wearing thick, beaded sunglasses. Immediately he assumed a large, welcoming smile with a bizarrely jovial cut:
'Hello, my young friend; do you have a moment to talk about our lord and savior, Guzzlord?'
'My parents told me not to talk to strangers' said young Fort, perturbed and backing away.
'Now hold on just a minute little man' said the stranger, moving closer into the doorframe and placing his hand inside it. 'I have a very important message to spread of the moling and misinformation present within your household!'
'What do you mean?' asked young, innocent Fort, unaware of the stranger's sly tactics and bamboozlement strategies.
'I am referring, of course, to the present vindictive stance taken by them towards those who - just want to get a word in.'
'Well, what would you have me do then?' queried the young boy.
'Ah, you know I'm glad you asked that, my lad - VERY glad you asked that' chuckled the stranger, taking another half-step closer so that mysterious bulges under his coat started coming into focus.
'You see, right now we have a problem - yes, a very BIG problem that we need YOUR help with!' said the stranger.
'What kind of problem?', replied young Fort.
'Well, a trusted friend of mine, one Guzzlord La Phoenix, is being railroaded by supposedly "upstanding" citizens such as your parents, and we need YOUR help to make sure that the real culprit, one Blazade Goodman, is brought to justice in his stead!' exclaimed the stranger, growing ever more animated and making increasingly bizarre hand gestures.
At that moment, the boy's cell phone rang. It was his father.
"Son, is everything all right? We are down at the courthouse again providing testimony against this egregious villain".
"Hi dad! Well, I'm a bit confused, because this stranger came to our door and is telling me all about how it's actually Mr. Blazade Goodman's fault, and that maybe you should be - "
"Son, is this stranger still at your door? If so respond calmly, and back away very, very slowly."
Immediately Fort's pulse quickened, looking back slowly at the forced smile and glistening brow of the ever-closer stranger, leaning well inside the house now.
"Uh ya dad, just give me a sec and I'll make sure to take care of that..." he said, motioning to the stranger as if he had a chore to do.
"Oh that's alright lad, don't you worry about anything..." said the stranger moving his hand inside the house and towards Fort. Fort's mind raced as to what he should do, stuck between his father screaming at him to slam the door and the stranger's arm reaching out closer...and closer...and closer...
And at the last second, Fort slammed the door shut, breaking the stranger's hand. Ignoring the cries of pain, he slammed the door shut once more, this time for good - the stranger had instantly removed his hand from the door.
"Is everything all right son?" asked his concerned father.
"Yes, dad; I'm sorry - you told me never to answer the door and talk to strangers. I should've listen - "
"Don't worry about it, son. Just as long as you're alright".
Outside, the stranger removed his cape and answered a call from an associate of his at the Aether Foundation.
"How did the mission go, sir?" asked the voice over the phone.
"A temporary setback, nothing more" responded vonFiedler, grimacing at his broken hand. "Soon we will remove those meddlesome parents and the rest will be sheep for the herding."
"But what of Guzzlord La Phoenix?"
"He will be sacrificed for the greater good, brother. For soon, glory will be ours."