Alternative Kung Fu...

Once in the early Chinese 14th Dynasty, there lived a small boy called Quang Quang. Quang Quang was master of every style of Kung Fu ever created. Crane? Simple. Crouching Tiger? A joke. Somewhat inebriated monkey fist? Childs play.

One day, Quang Quang faced his most deadliest foe ever to date...Shi Ho. Shi Ho was a dangerous and venerble opponent. All who knew of Shi Ho's prowess on the field of battle, shuddered at the thought of ever having to face him. Shi Ho swept down entire legions of battle hardened Kung Fu masters. With his weeping eye technique, Shi Ho had no equal.

Legend spread across the land until one day it landed on the ears of Quang Quang. Quang Quang scoffed at the thought that anyone could beat his unbeatable style. Rumor of Quang Quang's scoff crossed back across the land until it seeped into Shi Ho's awareness. Shi Ho rolled his eyes at Quang Quang's scoff. Stories of Shi Ho's eye rolling migrated back across the land until it came to Quang Quang's awareness that Shi Ho had in fact rolled his eyes to Quang Quang's scoffing. This sort of thing went back and forth for some time, and due to the lack of space we will skip to the good stuff.

Eventually, Shi Ho and Quang Quang issued each other challenges. Unfortunately they were lost in the disorganized postal service of the day. Tiring of waiting, they issued another mutual challenge which this time got to their intended targets.

Time droned onward as the day of battle approached. Finally it stopped droning. It stopped because the day had arrived, which is a pretty good reason for stopping.

Shi Ho stood silhouetted against the dimming Chinese sun. Quang Quang stood akimbo in defiance. Quang Quang was secretly jealous that Shi Ho got the better backdrop for his Kung Fu stance. The local villagers gathered in awe of the resplendent warriors.

Shi Ho called out loudly, "I hear you scoff at my LEGEND!" Quang Quang scoffed, "I hear you rolled your eyes at my SCOFFING!" This too went on for entirely too long. The villagers began to tire.

In time, Shi Ho challenged, "My legend is like a magnatude 6.5 on the Richter scale of Kung Fu!" Quang Quang said, "Not even!" This was not a particularly witty come back, but he was nervous and it was all that would come to his mind. Shi Ho countered, "Well, with that, we must FIGHT!"
Shi Ho launched his weeping eye technique. Shi Ho was little prepared for Quang Quang's new and improved Steel Armpit of Fury technique. Quang Quang locked his arm against his side like a steel trap. Shi Ho bounced off in a dribbling retreat. Shi Ho again attacked, only to be locked in a steely headlock the likes he'd never before encountered. Quang Quang squeezed and squeezed until Shi Ho's eye's bulged. "I...I...I surrender!" Shi Ho gasped.

The villagers cheered as they rushed forth to lift Quang Quang onto their shoulders. A bright new day had dawned for the villagers (despite the fact that it was by now well into the night), as they rested assured that they would be safe under the protection of Quang Quang and his Steel Armpits of Fury.

The end.

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Terrence and the exotic fruit...

Once there was an average boy. This boy's name was Terrence. This is not the sort of name that gets you to the top of the social heap in schools of any grade. This is not the sort of name that rockets you to the top of the business world. Terrence was familiar with the former and soon would become quite aware of the latter. That is not what this story is about. Stop thinking about it.

Terrence, as stated previously was an average boy, with the average amount of friends, and as you might have guessed, the average amount of enemies. Do you remember the name of yours? I do.

Terrence also remembered the name of his enemy. Donald Rider. This may not sound like the name of a greatly feared enemy, but if you are an average boy named Terrence, it holds a significant amount of dread.

Terrence particularly dreaded lunch time. This was the time where most average children examined the contents of their lunches and planned for mergers and trade agreements with other average children. Children such as Charlie Dwyer had trade embargos placed on them due to his mother's tendency to place beet salads and other organic items in his lunch. No respectable youth would be caught dead trading a perfectly good Ho-Ho for some sprouts. Yuck.

Terrence appreciated the usual trade, but the other average children had begun to shy away from him. The reason for this was that Donald Rider took a liking to taking Terrence's lunch during lunchtime. There was always the possibility that one would become one of Donald Rider's victims by the inadvertent association with Terrence. This was simply unacceptable.

Terrence had exactly twenty seven lunches taken from him by Donald Rider this year alone. Terrence did not mind so much, but his mother and father were very poor and worked very hard to provide him a lunch. Terrence's father always told him, "Son, always stand up for what is right and true. The sun and rain shines and falls on every man. You are just as good as any other. Terrence thought about this one day as he was thinking about the rumblings of his empty stomach.

It was then that an idea began to form. The idea began to take shape. It was the shape of his empty stomach which is sort of a kidney bean shape. It was also kind of pink in color. The idea was devious and wonderful. It was subtle and perfect. It was also guaranteed to work because Donald Rider was the sort of stupid bully that infects every school. Terrence finally had enough. His hunger had hatched a brilliance previously unknown.

On the way home, Terrence stopped by Mr. Granger's produce store. "Do you have any rotten oranges?" Terrence asked. Mr. Granger looked quizzically at the lad and simply nodded his head in the direction of the back. Terrence quickly found what he was looking for. It was fuzzy. it was smelly. It was the most perfect rotten orange he had ever seen. This was not true of course, as he had once seen a more perfect rotten orance when he was seven and a half at his aunt's house. Terrence did not recall this at the time, so to be fair, we'll let him believe it was in fact the most perfect rotten orange he had ever seen in his life. Terrence picked the rotten orange gingerly in a brown sack and carried it home.

The following day, Terrence looked on as the clock clicked slowly by. The time finally came and he bolted to the door. Finding his usual seat in the cafeteria, Terrence laid out his lunch in a neat fashion. Terrence sensed Donald Rider enter the room. He could feel his bully evil emenating as he came closer and closer. "Alright, dink." Donald Rider said, "What'chya got for me today?"

Terrence did his best to avoid eye contact with Donald Rider. It's always best to avoid eye contact. Donald Rider picked up the peanut butter and jelly sandwich and stuffed it in his mouth. Donald Rider took a long drink of Terrence's chocolate milk (this was strategically selected by Terrence for reasons you will soon understand).

Donald Rider's eye's shifted over the remainder of the lunch and his eyes caught on the rotten orange. "What's this" Donald Rider said, "A rotten orange?" "Haven't you ever seen a jaus-teece fruit before?" Terrence replied. "A what" "A jaus-teece fruit. It's from Madagaspar in Tarzan-nista." Terrence said quite calmly. "EVERYONE knows that" he continued with a snide look.

Donald Rider looked confusedly at Terrence, then back at the fruit. Donald Rider was quite unable to grasp what was happening. His prey was not responding as usual. He could sense something was wrong but did not have the capacity to figure out what. "It just looks like a rotten orange." "Whatever." Said Terrence, "If you don't know what a Jaus-teece fruit is, then that is your problem." "I know what it is, stink-plug" Donald Rider replied defiantly, "I've eaten like a thousand of these things. I eat them all the time." "No you haven't. You never have and you're too scared to eat one now." Terrence responded with narrowing eyes.

Now to those unversed in the world of "Bully / Victim" interaction, such resistance from the prey is completely unacceptable and will frequently be dealt with by wedgies, twirlies, or some other act to regain dominance. As previously noted, Donald Rider would have no such thing and needed to place this imp back in his place of subserviance.

"I'll show you." Donald Rider said and proceeded to choke down the entire rotten orange. Terrence calmly looked at Donald Rider. Donald Rider's look of satisfaction lasted for exactly 7.5 seconds. The look slowly shifted from satisfaction, to a distant far off look, to confusion, to worry, to uneasy surprise, and was quickly followed by vomit ("Huwaaaaaaugh!).

Vomit in and of itself is quite an unpleasant topic, but can in fact be made more unpleasant. The specific way in which this particular case of vomit was made worse was held in the fact that at this moment, Mrs. Lando the P.E. teacher was walking by with a full platter of beef stroganoff. That was not the bad part. The bad part was that Donald Rider vomited on Mrs. Lando's shoes and lower legs ("Huwaaaaaaaugh!). Mrs. Lando responded in kind and barfed on Donald Rider's head ("Huwaaaaaaaugh!). Children seeing the comotion througout the cafeteria began to exercise their rights to foodular expulsion in a flurry of foodular expulsing.

Mr. Dwyer (No relation to Charlie Dwyer the kid with the trade embargo, but in fact the Mr. Dwyer who was the school's janitor) looked on at the growing mess and wondered quite silently to himself why he had not followed his dream of being an ice dancer. Ice dancers never had to deal with this sort of thing.

Terrence on the other hand, though speckled with bits of jaus-teese (Justice) fruit and chocolate milk, looked on with a glow of personal satisfaction, knowing that a new day had dawned and a significant page had turned in his life.

The End.

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The world's greatest super hero...

Phil. That's what they call me. That is of course those who live in the real world...those who don't know the real me...or the life I lead. I am a super hero. I save lives.

There's another group of people. People who take things from others, hit them and stuff, and do other crime things. Criminals. They know me by a name too. Phil. My super hero name is also Phil, so as to not confuse things. I've got alot on my plate.

Super hero's such as myself have quite alot of things to deal with as you might imagine. Crime. Other super hero's trying to slip in on your turf. Accessorizing. Yeah, you heard right. Accessorizing. You might have totally kung-fu skills, but if you show up with your cape not matching your unitard...super headache. Whiffle girl still hasn't stopped teasing me about that one. She's one to talk. Making whiffling sounds isn't much of a super power.

Not like mine that is. My power? I knew you'd ask. My super power is dodging. I can totally dodge like, six or seven things. Perhaps you want to throw some scissors, or candy, or tennis balls at me? Childs play.

Captain Evilbad once threw like five bowling balls at me. Totally dodged them.

I was fairly impressed that he was able to even pick up five bowling balls. I tried it later and it wasn't as easy as it looked.

Anyway, here I watch. Waiting for the opportunity to dodge some criminals straight into jail. That's not very easy, but it's kind of like a three rights making a left thing. They run at me and I dodge a whole bunch of times, so that the last time they run at me, I dodge and they run right into the jail cell. Sweet.

You'd think that the criminals would just stop running at me after a while. Two things help me in this regard. One, the criminal mind is dumb. The second, is that I am pretty good at taunting them into chasing me. One of my favorites is, "Hey, you're a really bad criminal and I am currently dating your sister and making her hold the door for me." It drives them insane. It's like catnip, but for criminals...and without the cats.

The cops didn't like it all that much before I earned super hero status. I didn't have a key to the department and the next day there'd be like a stack of twenty or so criminals stacked up in front of the front door. They were like little birds that didn't see the glass.

So next time you think of committing crime, remember, Phil's watching you. Phil's always watching.

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Two pies for Donald...

There once was a little bunny named Donald. Donald lived on the outskirts of a small village on the outside of London. There was nothing Donald loved better than to hop into the village and smell the wonderful aroma of pies as they cooled on the baker's racks. "There's nothing I love better than to hop into the village and smell the wonderful aroma of pies as they cool on the baker's racks" Donald said thoughtfully to himself.

This became a daily ritual for Donald, but unfortunately there came another tradition not so wonderful. For whilst Donald stood gazing longingly at the pies, the other naughty little rabbits would gather around and tease him. "You are poor and have to eat government cheese, and other bits of state funded edibles!" they would jeer. This as you might well imagine made Donald very sad. Sad not only because he was indeed very poor, but also because he never got to even taste the delicious smelling pies.

Time carried on, each day much the same as the one before. Donald would hop into the village and enjoy the smells. The other little rabbits would hop over to Donald and enjoy the heckling.

One day, the town crier called out from his high perch, "The butcher is coming, the butcher is coming!" This was the cry that everyone dreaded. This was the proudest moment of the crier's life. "I actually got to yell something other than the time and various bits of gossip!" he thought.

The butcher loomed from above the small rabbit village and with one sweep, swept up the rabbit closest to him. This ironically was the town crier in his high tower, thus making it the best and worst day of his life (in that order).

"Run!" everyone yelled as they tried to hop away. A dark realization came over the crowd as they realized that they had become very fat from eating pies every day and were quite unable to conduct any physical exertion on their own. It's not that they were particularly fond of eating pies every day, but it just seemed so much fun to chomp one down in front of the poor Donald chap. "We can't run because we're very fat due to the overconsumption of sugary pies!" they were heard to yell.

Now the following will say quite alot about you and your opinion of such things. You will be allowed to select the ending you think most appropriate. They are as follows:

Ending number 1: Donald laughed as he saw the butcher sweeping up little fat bunnies to put in his award winning bunny stew. "Ha, ha you evil nare-do-wells. I'd help, but you would never offer me so much as a single piece of delicious pie. Add to that your incessant need to badger me regarding my financial woes!" And with that, Donald hopped off to happier climbes where he started a bakery of his own and had just as much pie as he wanted.

The end.

Ending number 2: Donald heard the din rising from the village and lept to his window. You see, he had not been eating pies all these years and was very capable of leaping to the window or anything else he chose to leap to.

Donald ran into the village and with a mighty leap, jumped up and spun a 180 degree turn. Donald kicked at the butcher's mouth and broke out one of his bicuspids. The tooth lodged soundly in the butcher's airway, causing him to cough and gag as he stumbled away from the rabbit village.

Cheers rose from the villagers as they tried to lift Donald upon their shoulders with little success. "Oh, sod it, we'll just give him a reward for his heroic efforts!" they said. And with that, they led Donald to the one place he frequented every day his entire life. The bakery. Donald selected one boysenberry and one cherry pie which he savored and relished for the rest of his life.

The end

P.S. I know you chose the first ending. Sick-o's.

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The absolutely biggest pumpkin pie ever in the world...

There once was a very fat baker named Smith. Smith was renown for his work in the cupcake arena and for his invention of "cremed" fillings. While it took several years to perfect this whipped delight, Smith endured failure after failure to achieve this, his ultimate success.

Despite his culinary victory, Smith was not satisfied. "There must be something out there that can satisfy my need for greatness." he thought. Smith thought and thought. What was it that would bring him even greater happiness and success than cremed fillings? There must be something.

Day and night, Smith pored over recipes and sweat over his drawing board. This as you might imagine, was a great deal of sweat and made it difficult for his pencil to properly mark the paper. Smith could not sleep at night. He could not eat during the day (this may or may not be somewhat of an exageration).

One day, Smith was enjoying a small and delicious personal sized pie. "This is a small, but delicious personal sized pie. It brings me such happiness and enjoyment." Smith's gaze fixed on the pie as his mind tried to seize upon an elusive thought that wandered about the ether of his mind. "What is it...what is it...what is it?" he whispered to himself.

In a flash of foodular genius, Smith grasped the vague thought. "YES! I shall make the world's largest pie ever concocted in the history of the entire world!" Smith blurted out. Patrons stared, but he did not care. He knew that he was on to the previously unknown meaning of his life. This was going to be the pinnacle of his career.

"It shall be a large pie, in fact the world's largest...but what KIND of pie should I make?" Smith wondered. "Why what better pie than that of a pumpkin pie!"

Smith rented a truck and a medium sized hand cart. He set to work in the basement of his bakery. Night and day, day and night. Trucks came incessently day and night to deliver products necessary to make the pie. An entire field of pumpkins was cleared to suffice Smith's needs. Smith was a wildcat of motion as he sunk deeper and deeper into his work. Hours turned into days...days turned into weeks...weeks turned into three and a half months, which is like some months and some days put together, but there is no real description for that measurement of time.

At last the day came. School children and homeless had gathered in a massive hungry vigil, each hoping for a slice of the world's largest pie. All waited with bated breath, some even had baited breath. This is often a hotly debated topic, but those in the know realize that the later means that they were probably eating sardines, or salmon eggs.

With a whoosh, the large barn sized doors swung wide. With a squish, the onlooker's eyes opened wide with awe. The largest smell of pumpkin pie ever to grace the earth flooded out onto the crowd, practically knocking them over. Children in the first three rows developed several cavities on site, and three diabetics had to be rushed to the hospital.

There behind the cloud of flour, a rotund silhouetted form emerged. Here, standing before them was the master chef. The one who brought forth this behemoth of flavor. The one who would go down in history as the one who did the unthinkably wonderful.

The crowd tensed as Smith called for a hush. They leaned inward as a palpable hush settled all around. "It is..." Smith began, as the onlookers stared at his lips as if to will the next words into existence. "It is...not finished!" Looks of complete confusion crossed the faces of everyone. "What the...?" They muttered simultaneously in disbelief.

"Yeah, I totally forgot to put salt in the mix and it tastes really bad. So go home." And with that, they went home.

The end.

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The biggest, meanest rat...

Once there was a really big and potentially mean rat. The rat was disproportionatly large compared to the rest of the other rats in the colony. As if this was not bad enough, the rat's name was Cecil, and it's common knowledge that the only other rat ever named Cecil was a politician who made some very unpopular legislation regarding the so called, "Cheese tax."

Anyway, Cecil was regarded as one of the biggest and meanest rats ever to scurry the earth. Cecil's appearance was made even more scary, due to a large facial scar incurred one night when he tried to use a sleeping cat's claw as a toothpick. It seemed like a good idea at the time.

The funny part, was that Cecil was not mean at all and had a generally cheery disposition. Unfortunately for Cecil, nobody was willing to look past his hard exterior and see who he really was. Nobody for instance knew that Cecil was an accomplished unicyclist. Cecil just wanted to be known and accepted for who he was.

One day, Cecil decided that he was going to let everyone know who he really was. Cecil climbed aboard his favorite unicycle and began riding around the colony. Rats stopped eating and stared with mouths agape. "What the heck is Cecil doing?" they whispered to one another. "Perhaps he's gone crazy, or is having some type of diabetic emergency." some replied.

After some time, Jasper the rat asked Cecil, "Hey, Cecil. What are you doing riding on the one wheeled contraption?" Cecil smiled and replied, "I'm riding a unicycle. It's like a bicycle, but with only one wheel, hence the name unicycle. It means a one wheeled cycle." Jasper frowned...not so much because Cecil was riding the unicycle, but because he used several big words that he did not quite understand. Thus not understanding, Jasper decided that it would be the right thing to do to act as if he disapproved, though he was not sure of what he was disapproving of.

"Hey, Cecil" Jasper said loudly enough for all to hear, "How about you just go ahead and stop doing whatever it is you think you are doing? You look silly and you are endangering the safety of our tails. Tail safety, after all is one of the foremost concerns in a rat colony...everyone knows that." All the other rats nodded in approval. "Yes" they said, "Tail safety is of utmost importance."

"This is who I am" Cecil announced, "I am a unicycler, which is not really a real word, but it's what I am, and I hope that you can accept me for who I am."

"We can't" the rats said, and kicked Cecil out of the colony.

The end.

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Little monster...

There once was a little monster who lived under the bed. Little monster lived with his family and had a very happy life. Little monster had a hard time getting to sleep every night, because he was afraid that there might be a child on top of the bed. "Mommy monster", Little monster said, "I'm afraid that there's a child over the bed." "Silly little monster" Mommy monster replied, "Don't be silly. There's no such thing as children."

"O.k." Little monster said, "and can you turn off the nightlight and open the closet door?" "Of course Little monster" she said lovingly. And with that he fell fast asleep.

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