Chapter 1: Paul Blart's night start
The night was dark in the West Orange Pavilion mall, where Paul Blart had dutifully served an hour of overtime for the good of mankind. Rolling shutters and protective tarps remained over every shop front, marking them as closed yet still fully stocked. Some doors were locked with chains – Paul knew they were to protect against thieves at night, those he could not watch for with his special eyes. He was like a hawk, always alert with a tight grip on the handlebars of his trusty segway. Like a knight upon his powerful steed he felt ready for action at any time. Cold silence filled the mall, lonely tension heightened by the distant whirring of Paul’s transport. Slow, mechanical, and constant. All around. Up the escalators. Along the food court strip. Back to the security office to check the cameras, always running, ever-watchful.
“Nobody messes with my mall…” he murmured, voice soft and face blank. “Nobody.”
The gnawing hunger deep within him was the only thing that could take him from his mall. Warm food awaited him at home, delectable sweets and the unrequited love of his family. There would be apple pie for dessert tonight, something rich and meaty for the main course. Excitement drove Blart away from the security room, pushing his segway at top speed. But he was barely out of the mall when he paused, inches away from the door. He stared, honey brown eyes wide with concern. There upon the transparent glass doors was a mark, in the shape of a hand so skinny and black it barely looked human. Dripping, hot, with smoke rising in the chill air outside. Fear struck the heart of the brave Paul Blart and had he been less focused, he would have done a shart. He turned, jerking his segway over to the right and heading for the other doors. They would not open for him. His heart thumped in his chest as he leaned forth, reaching for the silver handle of the emergency exit. A high shriek burst from his chest, searing his throat with terrible intensity. His hand came back tainted and white, so frigid his fingernails were turning blue.
“What… what is this?!” Panic struck him deep and a shiver ran through his whole body. It wasn’t too visible, but there nonetheless. He stepped off his segway, stumbling into the window opposite the hand-marked door. Against his own will his eyes were drawn to the black fingers and smoke coiling faster up into the starless sky. There. He needed to go there. To escape. The hand only wanted to be held, surely it would not hurt him…
‘Help me.’ said a voice, hollow and formless as the wind. ‘Help me, Blart. Please.’
Paul could not deny an innocent soul anything at all, even if he knew not where it came from or what his task was. All his fingers pressed to the cold glass behind him, aiding in the mall cop’s ascent. He shuffled, making the most obscene sounds all the while until he’d gotten to his feet. Still his right hand had no colour to it, as white as the ass of a freeze-dried American. He didn’t look at it. The mark on the door was calling him, and slowly he walked in even, measured steps until he was close enough to touch it. The moment he made contact with the glass, fierce heat shot through his fingers and ignited his very blood. He had no voice to scream, for his lips were pressed shut, eyes tightly closed. And then his eyelids peeled apart, brilliant light spilling into the foyer. So bright it was that the entire parking lot ahead was illuminated and murky shadows could be seen scurrying away.
‘Now the world shall witness thy glory, Lord Blart.’ There was the voice, resonating throughout Paul’s head. He turned and caught sight of himself in the glass, backing away from the blinding light of his own eyes. As he blinked, it became possible to squint and lower the brightness a little. Then he saw. His irises had become a shocking ice blue, white cracks streaking from his glowing pupils. The same stark white of his right hand, which now emitted a strange light of its own. He looked down and felt the taint in his blood rushing around his entire body. It was there in his head, like the humming of siren-song beneath deep sea waves. Yet… there was peace he felt, whenever the voice spoke to him. It sounded almost affirmative.
‘Safety never takes a holiday. The powerless shall become kings. The dark will be vanquished from this world.’ Blart nodded along with the voice, then opened his eyes wide. His segway still whirred, waiting for him.
Chapter 2: Plarpageddon
When Paul went to work the next day, he wondered where the light in his eyes had gone. It hadn’t been a dream, had it? It couldn’t have.
‘Thou art Lord Blart, mighty and just. ‘Twas not a dream.’
The voice had a concrete idea of his identity, and Paul had no choice but to believe. It was through this belief that he stood taller and segway’d his way into the security office, proud and assured.
“BLART!” Dave, the head of security turned and opened his arms. Not in welcome, but a sort of ‘where da fuck you been?’ gesture. “You’re late.” He shook his left arm around, his watch loose and dangling from his skinny wrist.
“No.” Paul’s voice was calm and his moustache barely twitched as he leapt from his segway and ripped the watch from Dave’s hand. It burst into flame and became nothing but scrap metal within seconds. Dave had gotten that from his wife on their last anniversary, before she died. He looked at Paul, shocked. Angry red marks from the watch strap marred his pale skin. Suddenly a new expression dawned on his face – one of abject horror. Paul was trembling all over, his eyes rolled back in his head and mouth agape. The other security officer in the room took one look at Paul and did the sign of the cross for protection – it was then that an unearthly shriek tore past Paul’s discoloured lips and took form in a viscous red glob. Blood spilled from his mouth, hot and bubbling down his two chins and onto the vast expanse of his chest. Only his badge remained gold and gleaming, speaking its message of ‘security guard’ while Paul began to convulse.
“SAM GET THE HOLY WATER!!!” cried Dave, gesturing madly to the security guard who now shook his head and crawled under his desk. A voice that was not Paul’s spoke through his mouth and said, “Fear my wrath, mortal folk. The hour of judgement is at hand.” The lights began to flicker and Paul’s glowing eyes lit his face with horrifying shadows at every curve. His heavy steps squelched in the gory mess covering the floor and only when the corruption was purged from his human body he grabbed the handlebars of his Segway and began to ascend. Higher and higher he rose, dirtied clothing stripped away as clouds brushed the blood from his face and his path was lit by his glowing eyes. The morning was bright and beautiful, the world as peaceful as it could be from Paul’s vision up in the sky. Once above the clouds, he stared into the sun and it bathed him in a glorious golden light. It was then that he heard a loud humming, coming from above as if several celestial beeings were about to appear. And they did. In various colours, twenty bees buzzed around Paul with starlight in their wings and strength in their bodies.
“Come, Lord Blart.” they said in unison, waving their feelers and spinning chain links between them. “The world is ready for your coming.” Paul was lifted and watched as his Segway became coated in pure gold, with chains attached to it so the bees could pull it like a chariot. The clouds came together and cloaked him in light robes, white and flowing around his nude form. His moustache gilded and hair slicked back, Paul was ready to cleanse the world.
“KAMEHAMEHA!!!” he cried, and the bees flew with such great speed he had to cling to his segway to avoid falling off. They dipped beneath the clouds and headed straight for the mall, where no doubt noisy children and sneaky shoplifters were disturbing the peace.
In the mall, people were getting their businesses going and customers went about their early morning shopping. A few were disturbed as the ceiling began to reverberate, and upon looking up there could be seen a swirling of the clouds in the bright blue sky. And then colours. Black. White. Gold. Fifty thousand bees burst through the skylight and descended upon the mall, at the bidding of their Lord, made to serve his wrath.
“DON’T PLARP MY BEEEEEEEEEES!” Lord Blart screamed and gestured wildly with his glowing hand, striking shoppers with lightning and flame. The bees sacrificed themselves for him and saw fear in the eyes of the common folk – rightly so, for Lord Blart’s justice was a thing to be feared for every sinner. The beating of their wings created a vortex and Lord Blart used this to acquire hundreds of donuts from the food court, which he inhaled and used to fuel his growing power. His glorious genocidal rampage continued until the SWAT team arrived, wielding a huge tank with flammable liquid inside that they hoped would consume Lord Blart in the fury of his own flame. Lo and behold he raised both hands to the sky and proclaimed thus: “JET FUEL CANNOT MELT DANK MEMES!” and smote the entire mall in a blazing inferno. The SWAT team exploded, their strategy turned against them. They were nothing to a God. For only Blart’s justice was pure, and he could see no wrong in himself.
And then he was falling.
Down into the ball pit he crashed, his grip on his golden segway long gone and the bees so terribly plarped they were going mad and stinging everything in sight. The godly mall cop felt something stick into him and flipped around to see a man beneath him, suffocated in Lord Blart’s cloud-covered flesh. The man was quick, slipping away before he could be caught.
“Come with me, milord.” he said, “I will take you to safety.”
“I am safety.” growled Lord Blart, a dangerous anger flashing in his eyes. Then the man pointed up to the collapsing ceiling of the mall.