But not for long.
"Captain Circulator!"
"Yes, Commander Oscillator?"
"We've just recieved word that the Air Conditioner Force is planning an attack against our Galactic Storefront."
"Curses. How are our defenses?"
"Well, we have a full regiment of shutter-mounted fans, which work well as shields. We also have a fleet of ceiling fans for airborne attacks. But I'm afraid that won't be enough. The Air Conditioner Force has allianced with the Space Heater armies."
"Blast. Call a council of all Generals and Majors."
"Yes, sir."
"We must restructure our strategy. This war is gonna be a doosey."
"Sorry sir, did you just say 'doosey'?"
"No, I didn't. Proceed with your orders, Commander. The council will meet at 0200 hours."
"That's kind of a long time."
"You're right. Make it two o'clock."
"Yes, sir."
The council met indeed. There was nearly constant debate and argument over how this war could possibly be won when their solitary army was up against two. When the meeting was close to unsettled adjournment, a voice that had as of yet been silent spoke up above the quarreling. It was the trusted advice of one Dr. Industrial Fan.
"Has it not become obvious what we should do, friends? We are arguing about how we can fight a war against two united armies. Indeed we cannot. If they should unite, so then shall we," said the wise old Fan.
"Unite? I thought we were fighting a war. Am I at the right meeting?" said Private Floor Fan.
"We are in a war, you fool. What I meant was we need to unite just as the Air Conditioner Force and the Space Heaters have," said Dr. Industrial Fan.
"But we are united... we're Fans! Right, guys?"
"YEAH!" shouted the meeting, followed by high fives, hooting, and slapping eachother's cords.
"Silence!" said the Wise Fan. "As much team spirit as you may have, it does not make up for stupidity. Me must unite with another army to match the Conditioner/Heater army. Now I suggest we send for reinforcements to the Electronics Galaxy. We will find strength particularly in the Computer Nations."
"Shouldn't we stick to our own kind? What about the Humidifier Empire or the Republic of Air Purifiers?" asked Count Chocula.
"Cowards, all of them. They care nothing for the needs of others. I would never trust them among my military, should they make it as far," said Dr. Industrial Fan.
"How about the cell phones? They have hot nurses and pointless text messages that are still fun to send."
"What do I look like, an imbecile? I would never trust the cell phones. Bunch of drunk college kids on spring break if you ask me. Anyhoo... Captain Circulator? What say you?"
"Dr. Industrial Fan is right. We must unite with the Electronic Galaxy. I hear computers are pretty powerful or something. They have fans in them, too, ya know. Fans! All in favor?" asked Captain Circulator.
"Of spring break? Wooo yeahhh!" the team replied."
"No, you idiots, for uniting with computers to save our Galaxy as we know it."
"Oh. Uh, yeah, sure go ahead."
And so, the Fan Storefront decided to send a messenger to the Computer Nations, in hopes of gaining their powerful alliance. The only question was whom they might send. The prospective list was slim, and few would even volunteer, for the Computer Nations were mighty intimidating. One wrong swivel and they'd upload you into their fan recycle bins. When the hopes of sending a messenger were diminishing, an heroic Fan stepped forward. "I will send word to the Computer Nation," said the brave young Fan to the League of Officers.
"You? Why, young Master Desk Fan, we wouldn't expect such a request from you for many a year. Why is it you wish to go?"
"I wish to become a Pedestal Fan like my father. I must pursue this quest to obtain strength and maturity. Besides, who else are you gonna send? Captain Oscillator? He doesn't even know the difference between a megabyte and a terabyte. I mean, come on, who doesn't know that?"
Then everyone laughed at Captain Oscillator's demise, including Captain Oscillator. The League of Officers thought it appropriate to send young Master Desk Fan to the omnipotent Computer Nations. So he went. To make a long story short, the Computer Nations agreed to help the Fan Storefront because young Master Desk Fan was able to defragment all of the computers in residence. Kind of like the mouse pulling the thorn out of the lions paw. How precious.
The day of the war began. I didn't even know wars had schedules like that. Oh well. Both alliances lined up on their battle fields. The red flag came down and all heck broke loose. Fans blew like the wind; Air Conditioners dropped their bombs of cool, refreshing air; Computers shot their jargon all over the place; Space Heaters cooked their enemies. The madness continued on into the night. Actually, it's always night in space, but you catch my drift. The battle went on: Fans suffered casualties; Air Conditioners shorted out; Computers crashed; Heaters over-heated. The situation was dismal. The fate of the Fan/Computer Alliance now rested in one young Master Desk Fans hands. Or switches. The brave Fan knew he had to prove himself a true Pedestal Fan. So he stood as tall as he could and blasted the enemy away with the mightiest winds either side had ever felt. The Computers watched in awe and the Fan Storefront was stunned. This truly was a Pedestal Fan as there never has been.
