The continuing sacreligious saga of a young God and his dreams of conquest.

And so it came to be that one day as Bobby was gazing over his new empire he grew restless. His holy martyrs had conquered the high school. His dervishes kept the slave populations of both schools tightly under his grip, and were able to provide the sacrifices required for the daily rituals. Best of all, with their crusade completed, Bobby now had in his possession the mighty Sceptre of Jesus². Truly, his followers were legion, his power was unparalleled, and had become as God to the entirety of his school system.
But there were still those who could wield more power than he. Leaders who had very nations bend to their beck and call. A true God would have them under heel. Bobby would be their true God. If only he knew how.
Sitting in the throne of Zeus (recovered with much bloodshed from a cave in Arcadia), clutching the Sceptre of Jesus², and drinking the holy drink of his religion, Bobby decided to ask the one person he knew that could tell him how to accomplish his goals. Verily, it had been too long since he had seen the Wise Old Owl. This was to be expected, as the recess yard was now mostly blocked by the dungeons he had installed, where the wails of the damned sang into the hallways. A nasty bit of business that, but one that was required to keep the sinners under control. Rising from his seat, flanked by the best and brightest of his whirling dervishes, Bobby made his way to the back door. Devoted followers prostrated themselves before him as he passed, eager to catch a brief glimpse of his greatness.
Passing the halls of the heretics, Bobby exited the building. Immediately he could see the tree where the Wise Old Owl held residence, and there the ancient bird perched in all of his majestic glory.
“Owl! Greetings, I have returned to again seek your guidance in matters of my destiny.” Bobby shouted to the tree.
The Owl did not respond. Rather, he began to preen himself with a show of deliberate defiance.
“Owl, what trickery is this? Have I not been a true friend to you? I have come to seek your guidance in matters of world conquest!”
This time, the Owl did respond. He removed his beak from his feathers and fixed his large, knowledgeable eyes upon those of the young religious icon. “I will guide you no longer, young fool.”
“Heresy! Treachery! Bastard bird, how dare you defy me so? Have I not followed your advice to the letter? Have I not trod in thy very footsteps on my rise to greatness?” Bobby stamped one foot on the ground so fiery was his frustration. The dervishes around him drew their blades in anticipation. No one had dared anger their God for some time.
“You have taken my advice and corrupted it, whelp. I wanted to guide you into becoming something truly great. But you have fallen from the path. Instead of a mostly harmless Jesus, you have taken the path of a young, wrathful and drunken Mohammed. My intention was never to spawn another of those . I will aid you no longer, and I ask that you leave my sight immediately.”
The very ground trembled with the rage of the young deity. “I think not you avian sinner. Your tree rests on territory within my holy domain, and you will vacate it immediately, or be destroyed! Nay, I will destroy you anyway!” And with that, a great bolt flew forth from the end of the Sceptre and hit the tree of the Owl. The sap within boiled, the bark split, the branches withered and the fruit rotted. Finally it exploded with great violence, although the influence of Bobby’s powers kept his followers from harm.
But there was no sign of the Owl, until a great screech was heard from overhead.
The great raptor swept down from the sky and clawed out the eyes of one of the eight dervishes that surrounded Bobby. He fell to the ground screaming in pain, clutching the remains of his boyish face. The others showed their dexterity and skill with the speed that they struck the air where the Owl had been, but not even the elite of Bobby’s dervishes were fast enough to counter the Wise Old Owl. His great beak removed the arm of another, and his wings buffeted a third to death. Bobby unleashed a second attack with his Sceptre, but hit nothing.
Finally the very ground began to shake and rumble, opening a great pit beneath Bobby and his dervishes. The eight normal humans tumbled into its depths to their deaths, but through his messianic powers Bobby suspended himself above oblivion. Despite this, it was clear who had won the day. The Wise Old Owl perched on the fence that surrounded the recess yard.
“You may have defeated my best followers Owl, but you know that you cannot defeat me.”
“No, dear Bobby, but I can spawn another. We shall see what happens when I create another Zoroaster to roam this Earth, shall we? We will meet again.” With that, the Wise Old Owl flew off into the distance.
Bobby sealed the ground beneath him and reentered the school to the adoring stares of his congregation. He would show that Owl what for.