There was once a Prophecy. Like most prophesies, it spoke of the destruction of the known world and a whole heap of other bad things: plagues of locust, flaming meteorites, people with lisps; the whole shebang. Unfortunately for everyone this Prophecy was about to come true. Well, it wasn’t unfortunate for everyone because all the wicked people would probably have the time of their lives.

It was, however, incredibly unfortunate for a cooper named Gary.

Gary lived and breathed barrels. And air. There was just something about barrels that made him feel less suicidal than usual. Gary was also antisocial and despised all of mankind. Although he was still young he knew he would never find true love, unless a barrel was to somehow sprout arms and legs and an operational female reproductive system.

Everyday Gary would get up, make a few barrels, berate the postman and then retire for the evening. This routine satisfied his lowly human requirements and prevented him from finding a rope and a nearby rafter to swing from.

One day, Gary was awoken to the terrified screams of children. At first he was elated with the thought that some children were possibly in mortal danger but, after stepping outside to see what was going on, he was not so happy.

“Crap! Not again!” he yelled as he saw the source of all the noise. A large gorilla with a red neck tie was busying itself by picking up Gary’s well-constructed barrels and throwing them at innocent bystander. The gorilla caught sight of Gary and swiftly abandoned its barrel-throwing activities; jumping into a nearby go-cart and speeding off into the distance.

“Yeah you better run you freakin’ simian!” yelled Gary, shaking his fist as he watched the gorilla turn sharply to avoid hitting a crab. “Goddamnit! Why does he always go for my freakin’ barrels!?”

Gary kicked a rock in anger which shot through the air, hitting a pigeon. Turning to walk back inside he was suddenly face to face with a group of a dozen men in blue robes which had popped out of nowhere.

“Who are you lot?” Gary asked, not knowing who the men were and therefore wanting to find out, hence the question.

“We are the priests of Maroleta,” replied one of the men, an elderly man with a funky moustache. “Our beloved goddess from whom all living things are born and to whom all living things shall return when-”

“Oh, religious sorts,” interrupted Gary with a roll of his eyes. “Okay, just give me a pamphlet and bugger off.”

“We are not here to convert you,” said the old man pleasantly. “I am Alan. We have followed the sun according to the Prophecy and it has led us to your house.”

“That’s phenomenal. Hopefully the sun can lead you away from my house now,” retorted Gary as he turned and walked back inside his house. A few seconds later there was a knock at his front door. Opening the door, he found himself face to face yet again with the dozen robed men.

“Why am I not surprised?”

“Sir you must come with us,” said the funky moustached old man named Alan. “It is of the upmost importance.”

“Wow, you’ve just convinced me to do everything that you’ve just asked,” said Gary sardonically as he shut the door. A few seconds later there was another knock at the front door. Opening it again, Gary saw that the robed men were still standing there on his front lawn.

“You know, most people would have gotten the idea that I don’t give a damn by now.”

“Please sir, you must hear us out,” said Alan happily even after having a door shut in his face. “You are the Chosen One the Prophecy has spoken of.”

“Really? Do I get a prize? Like some cheese, or a commemorative pen?” replied Gary, leaning against the doorframe.

“If you consider saving the entire world from ultimate destruction to be a prize, then yes you do,” said Alan.

“Hmm…sounds like I would get a lot of out that,” said Gary as he shut the front door again. A few seconds later there was another knock at the door. Although he was aware of who it was that was knocking he opened the door anyway.

“Whoa, three times in a row. I’m starting to see a pattern emerging here.”

Without warning, the group of robed men grabbed Gary and pulled him out of his house.

“Sorry Chosen One but you must listen to what we have to say,” said Alan warmly.

“Okay fine,” sighed Gary as he shrugged away from the men who had pulled him. “But only if you let me touch your moustache.”

“Agreed,” said Alan, leaning forward and allowing Gary to reach out a stroke his funky moustache. After a few awkward seconds Gary stopped stroking. “Did you find that entertaining?” asked Alan.

“A bit,” answered Gary. “But it’s not hard to entertain me. All you need really is a heavy object and a kitten.”

“Very good, now I shall tell you of your importance.”

“This should be good.”

“There’s an ancient Prophecy that speaks about the destruction of the world. It also tells us of the person who can save the world from this imminent doom.”

“And let me guess; that’s me, isn’t it?” groaned Gary.

“Indeed it is,” replied Alan, his funky moustache bouncing about.

“Why the hell does it have to be me?”

“Because you have been chosen; the sun has led us to you, just as it was foretold in the prophesies.”

“How the hell did the sun lead you to me?” asked Gary, as he looked up at the big flaming ball in the sky.

“On the fifth day the rising sun shall elevate above and make clear the Chosen One,” said Alan, as though he was reciting something from memory. “The Prophecy has spoken. It is now the fifth day and the sun is above your house. You are the Chosen One.”

Gary cocked his head to the side. “You are kidding aren’t you?” he said. “I mean, look at the sun! It’s freakin’ huge! How the hell can it be solely above my house? It could be above anyone’s house in a five block radius.”

“No it is definitely above yours,” said Alan as he looked up at the sun, shielding his eyes. “Now you must come with us.”

“Actually, I don’t think I’ll be doing that today,” said Gary. “As much as being the Chosen One sounds fun compared to, oh I don’t know, contracting cancer, I’m afraid I just don’t have the time or the people skills to pull off such a fantastic task.”

“The Prophecy states that the Chosen One is modest; that means it must be you.”

“No it doesn’t! Now I come to think of it, you must be getting me confused with the guy who lives next door. He’s quiet and hardworking and dreams of bigger things and has an amulet around his neck with some ancient insignia on it. Did I mention he’s an orphan? Come on, doesn’t he sound like a better Chosen One?”

“The Prophecy states that the Chosen One will deny his importance,” replied Alan patiently.

“Oh my God…” moaned Gary as he rubbed his forehead. “Look, the sun is like twenty times larger than our freakin’ planet. It could easily be above my neighbour’s house. In fact, why don’t you wait seven minutes? By then the sun will be hovering over someone else’s house and you can go annoy them.”

“It is time Chosen One. We must take you to the castle.” said Alan as the group of a dozen robed men, while smiling, took hold of Gary and began to forcefully lead him away.

“This is a form of harassment you know,” spat Gary as he was taken by the crazy religious men, through the streets of his town, to the castle which stood in its very centre. The castle did not have legs.

“The King is expecting you,” said Alan as the great doors of the castle swung open and Gary was taken inside.