In the beginning, there was the burger.
Freedom fries were the next innovation to grace the townsfolk, and they took to it like mosquitoes to an electrified bug killer. All of a sudden, ketchup grew in demand, and soon became a household staple alongside mustard.
But as Dick knew well, the masses weren’t about to be appeased only by burgers and fries. Sure, there was the Double Dick, the BIG Dick, the Triple Dicker Cheeseburger, and even the Mega Schlong… But it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t nearly enough.
It was why he stood before hordes of his enemy, alone. It was why he braved life and limb. To grow the business. To bring the people what they deserved.
Chicken Nuggets.
There was just one problem. There were no chicken in this world. There were only [Fricken]. They looked like chicken. They walked and they talked like chicken. But they were [Fricken].
The Frickenese were not to be underestimated. With their tiny mouths and their ferocious behavior, they pecked at Dick’s legs, tingling him slightly. A grave threat, and one that must be dealt with.
But Dick was cut from a different cloth. He saw neither the bloodthirsty eyes of his foes, nor their army. He saw nuggets. [Fricken] nuggets.
“Dick Stooooomp!” he roared, crushing the neck of a [Fricken] underfoot. Unfazed by their fallen brethren, the rest of their ilk charged like a bunch of commiecozies in heat, encountering the same tragic fate.
“Dick Stomp Dick Stomp Dick Stomp!”
“Do you have to say that out loud?” Greg asked, covering his nonexistent ears. “That’s not actually a power, you know?”
“Diiiiiick Stooooomp!”
Congratulations! You have killed [Fricken] lvl 1. + 10 EXP.
Congratulations! You have killed [HellaFricken] lvl 2. + 13 EXP.
Congratulations! You have killed [Ultra Fricken] lvl 5. + 33 EXP.
Congratulations! You have killed [Cheesy McFricken] lvl 3. + 15 EXP.
Stolen novel; please report.
Congratulations! You have killed [Giga Fricken Chad] lvl 8. + 122 EXP.
You have acquired the Title [Frickenbane I]. Frikkin [Fricken] flee from your fearsome footstomp. You are [Frickenbane I], bane of the [Fricken]. +10% damage against Frickenese. +50 EXP.
The [Fricken] were bizarre creatures, with the [Giga Fricken Chad] sporting an enormous jawline for no apparent reason.
“Well, it’s taking a while, but we’ll turn this backward ass town into a civilized place,” Dick proclaimed as he gazed at the field of fallen foes. He went around stuffing their corpses into his inventory.
The lines at Dick’s food stall had only grown longer, but there was nothing to be done about it. Quality food attracted customers in any world.
“I feel like I already know the answer, but you consider a world with greasy fast food ‘civilized’, do you?’ Greg said, munching on a Double Dicker. Of course, Greg was incorporeal, but such minor details wouldn’t stop him from chomping Dick’s burgers.
“Damn straight,” Dick replied.
----------------------------------------
The nuggets were an instant success. Soon, Dick had people asking—even begging—him to share the secrets of his recipe. Noblemen came from the far reaches of the kingdom. Some even offered their daughters as tribute.
But the secrets of a master chef could not be bought so cheaply. Dick scoffed at their meager efforts.
“I gotta say, as good as the burgers are, it really was the freedom fries and fricken nuggets that really made your business explode,” Greg said, munching on a ketchup-dipped nugget.
Dick gazed out at the endless lines of customers. Every moment of every day, his thoughts were filled with how to get burgers to more people.
But alas, every good invention is doomed to be copied.
A group of ruffians in black coats with overly large sleeves pushed passed the line, approaching Dick. Each of them wore top knots, Foo Man Chew mustaches, and goatees.
The leader walked up to Greg, eyeing him up and down. Then he sneered and spit at Dick’s feet.
“Generic Patriarch A greets Patriarch Dick.”
“What kind of a name is that?”
“YOU DARE?” Generic Patriarch A roared.
“Patriarch, please!” One of his disciples said, desperately trying to calm the man down.
“Ahem. You may perhaps know me by another name… Patriarch Reliance,” he said, pointing smugly to the turtle shell on his back.
“Nope. Is that a telephone company or something?”
“YOU DARE?” Patriarch Reliance roared.
“Patriarch, please!” One of his disciples said, desperately trying to calm the man down.
But Generic Patriarch A aka Patriarch Reliance would not be calmed. With a swipe of his hand, he decapitated the disciple, dousing them all in blood.
“Dick! You are courting death! I have come to challenge your sect! My sect, the Sect of Copied Burger, has surpassed you! I challenge you to a Dickoff!”
“I accept,” Dick replied, his eyes full of confidence. “Because you’re a hundred years too early to challenge me!”