When my sister and I were kids we had this one action figure, who was actually a brutalized batman doll without his cape (the dog chewed half his head, too), who we dubbedĀ āEvil Chancellor Traytorā. The idea was that in the fictional society of our toys,Ā āchancellorā just came with the wordĀ āevilā in front of it, as a matter of ancient tradition. LikeĀ āgrandā orĀ āhighā or something along those lines.
Anyway, the running gag was that the king (an old Power Rangers knock-off doll) had absolute and unwavering faith in Evil Chancellor Traytor, who basically comported himself like a mix between Grima Wormtongue and Jafar from the Aladdin movies. Everyone was always sure that Evil Chancellor Traytor had something to do with the nefarious scheme of the day. The dude even carried around a poisoned knife calledĀ āthe kingslayerā.
The additional twist on the joke, though, was that he never wasĀ behind anything. The king was actually right. Evil Chancellor Traytor was the most devoted civil servant in the entire Action Figure Dystopia. He spent his nights working on writing up new legislature to ensure that broken toys had access to mobility devices, was always on the lookout to acquire new shoeboxes for expanding city infrastructure, and drafted a proposal that once got half theĀ āsettlementā in my sister and Iās closet moved to the upper shelf so that vulnerable toys were less likely to be snatched up by the dog.
The knife, as it turned out, was as symbolic as theĀ āevilā in his name. See, Action Figure Dystopia had a long history of corrupted monarchs getting too big for their thrones and exploiting the underclasses. The job of the Evil Chancellor was to always remain vigilant, and loyally serve a good ruler - or, if the regent should became a despot, to slay them on behalf of the people.
But since killing the king would be a terrible crime, the Evil Chancellor had to be the kind of person who would willingly die to spare the people from the plight of a wicked leader; because the murder would be pinned on them, in order to keep theĀ āmachinery of politicsā working as smoothly as ever.
Anyway, Evil Chancellor Traytor had a diary, in which my sister I would take turns writing out the most over-the-top good shit heād done behind the scenes. Usually after everyone else had finished talking shit about him. I donāt know why but we got the biggest kick out of being like:
Barbie With the Unfortunate Haircut: Oh that Evil Chancellor Traytor! Why canāt the king see how wicked he is?!
Charmander From the Vending Machine: Char!
Jurassic Park Toy of Jeff Goldblum With Disturbingly Realistic Face: At least if someone puts a knife in the kingās back, weāllĀ know where to look!
Evil Chancellor Traytorās Diary: Today I was feeding ducks at the park when I noticed another legless action figure sitting by the benches. I put a hundred dollars into his bag while he wasnāt looking. I really need to increase budgeting to the medical treatment centers. If only we had enough glue, I think we would see far fewer toys trying to get by without limbsā¦ *insert iconic evil laugh*
Anyway, Evil Chancellor Traytor eventually fell victim to one of my momās cleaning sprees, and she decided he was too busted up to keep and tossed him out. My littler brother, who tended to follow my sister and Iās games like he was watching a daily soap opera, cried so hard that we had to do a specialĀ āepisodeā where one of the toys found the Evil Chancellorās diary, and so he got a big huge memorial and the king threw himself into the empty grave and then ordered the toys driving the toy bulldozer to bury him so thatĀ āTraytorās grave would have a bodyā (this seemed very important for some reason).
And then we had the Quest For a New King. Somehow or another that ended up being a giant rubber snake calledĀ āTyrant King Cobraā.
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