2. Insurgent Laundry Detergent: A Revolutionary Parody, Chapter 3

The room reeked of some kind of perfume. I was evidently no expert on perfumes, but it was a smell that I had never smelt before and it ceaselessly tried to assault my nostrils, so my assumption was that it must have been a perfume. It was as if someone just poured the stuff all over the study, exceedingly uncomfortable. I really didn’t understand why my sense of smell had gotten so sensitive recently, as I recalled the horrid smell of the detergent I flushed down the toilet a few days ago. The old man sat at his mahogany desk writing something on a paper notebook with a golden pencil, like it was the 1950s. I could feel how Cassandra grew extremely uncomfortable beside me as well.

“Dad, I need to talk to you,” she started. It sounded more confident than I expected.

“Is it about your school grades?” Ichabod asked without looking up.

“They are fine. But of course they could use improvement, if you want to be successful in your life,” he continued.

“It’s not about the grades,” Cassandra said, growing impatient. It was then when he finally stopped writing, put the lid back on his pen and put it down on the desk. The whole process felt like an eternity. When he finally finished, he looked Cassandra in the eyes, with a tremendously disappointed look on his face. Cassandra took a deep breath.

“Dad, remember how you used to say that you had no time and had work to do for the committee?” she then asked.

“I am a busy man. How do you think I got to where I am now? With hard work. Anything is possible if you work hard enough,” Ichabod answered.

“Having money also helps,” I added, assuming that Ichabod was almost as rich as my father. In my mind it didn’t seem possible that just working would get you anything. Additionally, Ichabod seemed like the kind of guy who never worked hard in his life. He looked at me now, the same disappointed look still covering his face. I quickly put on a smile, trying to make a friendly impression.

“It’s a shame what happened to your parents. How hard it must be for you, being orphaned at such a young age, never having experienced real care” he said, while slowly shaking his head.

“It’s not about him. I came here to ask you something!” Cassandra said, now raising her voice. Ichabod looked at her again. I was quite relieved that I didn’t have to talk about my parents.

“What is that committee you worked for?” Cassandra then finally asked. Ichabod’s expression grew somewhat sour.

“Why do you ask this now? Why are you so interested in this all of a sudden? Something must have happened. You got into trouble, didn’t you?” he said. I felt like we were wasting our time. This guy was a lawyer after all, so he would always find a way to avoid the question. It really annoyed me.

“Just answer the question. I don’t want to use this, but if you leave me no choice then I’ll have to start by breaking all this expensive stuff in your perfumed study,” I said, while pulling out the Glove of Contradiction from my pocket. To my surprise he seemed to recognize it.

“Wait! Alright, I’ll explain. Just put that thing away,” he said, pointing at my glove. I would have liked to just smash the stuff anyway but after glancing at Cassandra and seeing her serious expression, I decided not to. She really seemed to be waiting for that answer. But him recognizing the Glove of Contradiction, raised a dozen other questions.

“The Committee is a secret society formed to establish peace in the world again by creating a New World Order. All governments would eventually be controlled by the Committee. We are, in fact, not far from achieving our lofty goal…” Ichabod started to explain, but he wasn’t able to continue, as the place was suddenly hit by an earthquake.

This, you see, was not just a regular earthquake. It was a violent force, pulling from underneath the earth. A force stronger than any conspiracy theorist could have ever imagined. An evil force keen on world domination. Finally that force seized the unknowing young master and the other two and threw them right at the center of the earth itself. It would appear to be the time to talk about conspiracy theories, but in this particular case, it wasn’t just a theory. But rather the fabric of reality. No End Time scenario, no masonic or Illuminati plots, no Round Table, no Fourth Reich, no Armenian secret superpowers, no Alien invasions or other such nonsense but apparently a New World Order, sought to be established by the Committee. Before the three companions knew it, they found themselves in front of the gates of hell.