The Chicken Hero Saga 21: Down with the Sickness

Four Years ago:

“Give it up Mystifer, you can’t win!” exclaimed the Chicken Hero as he wrapped his trusty chicken string around his foe.
“Dear sweet Chicken Hero, your hubris will be your undoing,” Mystifier replied, “What makes you so sure you can win? Is it because I am a new villain? Never before explained, not a part of your canon?”
“I…...don’t have a cannon. I have my chicken string, and it is all I need to defeat you!” As he walked toward his latest defeated foe, the Chicken Hero couldn’t believe how easy it was to defeat the Mystifier, it seemed like the fight was over before anybody knew who he was. As it turns out, our hero would learn that what seems too easy, often is not.

“Well, Chicken Hero, you have done well to defeat me, you have earned a rest. Yes, yes, it is an extended rest you need,” said the Mystifier, as he exhaled a cloud of dust.
“Do you really expect some powder to hurt me? What are you trying to do, annoy me to death?” balked the Chicken Hero, when a wave of extreme tiredness hit him. He staggered forward. “I am just gonna sit here for a minute before I -”
With a mighty crash, our hero hit the ground and fell into a deep sleep, never to wake up.
Until...

Present 

He was not sure what woke him as the Chicken Hero lurched into an upright position, but two things were sure, as he looked around his home, he had so many questions. How long was he asleep? Why was he asleep so long? Where was his fair maiden Anna? His trusty steeds, Bear and Brody? What was this skittish orange creature on the bed? A feline? Surely not.
“Who are you, little creature?” the Chicken Hero asked, then noticed a pendant around his neck. “Lord Edgar. Hmmm, well you look quite noble, but you are certainly no steed.”
The tiny feline shot our hero an offended glare, jumped to his feet and flounced away. “I need answers, I need to find out what happened to me, I need….I need….to pee.” Years of stiffness and a build up of urine made his trek to the basin room seem nearly impossible. As with most quests, his journey was arduous but he reached his goal and was quickly filled with immense relief.

Ten minutes later Having regained the ability to walk normally, the Chicken Hero set out on a quest to find out what happened while he was comatosed. However, he was not ready for what he found when he walked out his door. There was nothing. No life as far as the eye could see, and his cross eyedness gave him the ability to see in all directions. His village was always a bustling town, there were always activities being done by some group. What had happened? Where was everybody? Were they also asleep?

The Chicken Hero was not sure what to make of this, nobody was moving from their homes. There was a lot more snow than usual for his village, like a lot more, he was not sure what future he had woken up in, but it seemed very bleak. Our hero knew there was one place he could find answers. When everything around him changed, he could always take solace in one constant: the Harvest.

The walk to the Harvest was a strange one indeed. Many buildings had large X’s painted on their door; merchants that were once thriving were boarded up with messages taped to the wood. He crept closer to see what they said. Our hero was more confused after reading these signs than he was before. Every message on every door had the same wording.

“To our valued townsfolk, In these times of strife and uncertainty, it is important to us that you remain safe. We have spies closely monitoring this situation and it is important that you all stay healthy so that you may spend all your money here if the Gods allow.”

Any questions the Chicken Hero had about his lost memories were replaced by one new question, just what the hell was going on here? The hero continued on, curious about what he just saw, but eager to find out just what had happened since he had been asleep, he dreamed of finding his fair maiden again, his gallant steeds, to once again rub their bellies with vigor, well not maiden Anna’s belly, for she was not a steed of course.

On his journey he began to notice parchments placed on poles. He remembered his dear friend Jamieus, the hemp smoking elf, who once had a job removing these. Did he not have that job anymore? Was he slacking? On further inspection the Chicken Hero noticed that these were official decrees from the office of Emperor Ball. He was not familiar with this Emperor, but his last name made him sound like a man of fun, who surely had the respect of the village and county.

“To all townspeople, it is hereby decreed by Lord Emperor Ball that all citizens must remain in their homes. If you must go out for necessities, you must remain a proper distance away from your fellow villagers. Failure to comply will result in drastic measures which you will be notified about at a later date. Oh I cannot keep a secret, it’s a catapult! You are going to get the catapult! You should see it, it is wonderous! Ahem….right. Comply or fly. Your ruler, Emperor Ball."

The questions kept piling up for the Chicken Hero, it was like every thought was a question now, but how could he stop it? Was that another question? Is this how his life was gonna be now? Darn it? His pace quickened to the Harvest. He had to have answers, he wanted to see his fellow workers again. Hopefully maiden Anna was there with the steeds, and he wanted to see his brother Robbieus the strong, Joshius and his powerful blue wagon, and Bogeyus, man of numbers and literature.

As our hero approached the Harvest, he noted that while it looked the same, something was amiss. It was quiet, too quiet. The Harvest looked like it had slowed considerably. There were only a couple of wagons in the area, while usually there were many. He walked around and could see nobody, no Anna, no steeds, no Robbieus the strong, not even Petieus the third of his name. Where was everyone? What had happened? More questions? Will they ever stop?

The Chicken Hero sunk to the ground. He had woken up in a world that was not the same as he had left it. For the first time since he could remember he was not sure what to do. He always had a plan, but how could he make a plan without any answers? With that thought, the skies parted and the heavens opened up. “
Oh, great,” he said to himself as he prepared for a downpour of rain, and he without a coat. When he looked up at the sky, a ray of light shone down upon him, and with that came a mighty crash. As the smoke from the crash cleared and he looked on with shock and wonder, he couldn’t help but smile a little. With a cough, our hero spoke.
“Well, I never thought I’d see you again.”

To be continued.

The Chicken hero saga 20: Make no bones about it

   The Deboner disappeared as quick as he had appeared, the hero thought it was weird he would just stop in to say hello and not do his usual evil rambling, but he couldn't be concerned about that right now, his nemesis was back, and this time he had to stop him for good. It wasn't really his return that unsettled the hero, most arch nemesis always find a way to return, it was the quiet that followed, as a matter of fact ever since Deboner's return, with the exception of a skirmish in the harvest dining area, that was handled expertly by Anastasia, nothing had happened. The hero tried to work in the harvest as normal, the people needed to be fed, meanwhile wondering what plans the Deboner had in store, if only there was a way he could see into the future.
  That way showed itself a few days later, it was a routine day at the harvest, the skies were darkened and cold, as they had been since the return of the Deboner. The hero was walking through the harvest kitchen to grab his trusty chicken knife when he encountered a mysterious cloaked figure, the figure's incoherent mumbling could not be understood but with skeletal looking fingers they waved the hero over to the large cauldron in which he stood in front of. This was the same cauldron the hero had seen every day, it prepared the sauce the townspeople loved, or hated, depending on who you asked. Something was different about the sauce on this day, it was boiling more than usual and as the cloaked figure pointed a bony fingers the bubbles ceased and images could be seen in the sauce. An image of what appeared to be bones marching appeared in the sauce.
  "What does this mean? What I am looking at?"
   The mysterious figure just responded with crazy arm motions and incomprehensible gibberish, the hero spying Joshius the tall asked him who this strange figure was, and how long he had been here
  "Oh that's the new oracle that Lord Whitticus hired"
  "An oracle? Really? We can't get anyone to work in the harvest but he hires an oracle?"
    Joshius just shrugged and walked away, as the oracle once again pointed the raging sauce cauldron, images were flashing in the sauce that really had nothing to do with the Deboner, he wondered what they could mean until words started to appear, he read them out loud
  "You can skip to your vision in five seconds"
   When five counted down the oracle placed his talon like finger in to the sauce and clicked a large X, then what the hero saw shocked him, there in the sauce cauldron was the image of the Deboner, but he was taller, almost as if he was standing over someone, was it the hero he was standing over the hero wondered. The hero was snapped back to reality by the shouting of harvest dining manager Kristeenus who was angry that several townspeople had complained about bones in their feast, namely in several bowls of hearty broth. The hero knew this was no mere coincidence, quickly grabbing his trusy knife and chicken string he ran into the harvest dining room, he was running to warn the serving wenches and the villagers to flee, that it wasn't safe, but what he ran into was an empty harvest dining area, empty that is except for the Deboner, and Kevinus, who was sat on his trusty perch.
  "Kevinus, are you okay? Has he broken your legs? Is that why you cannot flee?"
  "No I'm just on break, why does everyone always think I'm hurt or paralyzed?"
  "ENOUGH OF THIS" screamed the Deboner
  "The time has come for this to end hero, the harvest will be mine, there can only be one of us hero, I will be victorious and you.....you will just be totally boned?"
  Before the hero could sarcastically ask the Deboner how long it took him to come up with that line the Deboner clapped his hands and suddenly from out of nowhere and all around him a horde of creatures appeared, they had no flesh the hero could see, they were all bones. Suddenly Kevinus arose and fled with such speed the hero thought Karenus had asked him to clean the harvest windows. The hero, now left alone, faced incredible odds as the giant horde surrounded him.
  "So let me get this straight, you hate bones, yet your army is made of nothing but bones"
  "You have to appreciate the irony"
  The hero couldn't help but nod, but then charged head long into the horde, his trusty chicken knife thrusting to the left and to the right, up and down, as bones kept piling up more bone soldiers kept coming, he fought valiantly but the odds were not in his favor, he collapsed to his knees, tired and weak, the bone soldiers surrounded him in a circle, it was quiet now, there was no sound except a whirling sound, and then a whoosh and a smash. Suddenly bone soldiers started falling all around him, he looked up to see Anastasia throwing serving wench trays and the giant Brendanus wielding his three holed ball, the hero stood back on his feet and begin to lasso the bone creatures with his trusty chicken string, fighting his way to Anastasia and Brendanus, suddenly more reinforcements came as Joshius the tall crashed through the harvest in his big blue wagon. As the hero stopped to admire the carnage created by his tall friend he was grabbed by more soldiers, their grip was stong and dug deep into his shoulders.
  The hero struggled to fight free but it was too no avail, their hold was too strong. all of a sudden he saw a glowing orb headed his way, he manged to duck and the soldiers were hit and decapitated. after the glow faded he saw standing there Shawnus, not only was he the superior harvest table cleaner, he was known as a proficient weaver, cause all he did was make baskets. the hero thanked Shawnus and they continued to fight there way through to Anastasia, Brendanus, and Joshius the tall. Suddenly in the corner of his eye the hero saw the Deboner, he told Shawnus to go to the others, he had to finish this once and for all, as the Deboner started to flee the chicken hero flung his trusty chicken string and tripped the Deboner, it was just the two of them now.
  "Please hero, you have won, show me mercy?"
  "You have been a thorn in my side for too long Deboner, it's time to end this"
  The hero rose his chiken knife up ready to plunge it into the heart of the Deboner, but then stopped
  "Wait a minute, the real Deboner would never beg me for anything, heis  a lot of things, but he is not one to beg, he would still think he had a shot............you....you're not really the Deboner are you?"
  "Of course I am"
  "Okay then, time to end this" The chicken hero hoisted his knife again and as he started to lower it the Deboner screamed"
  "NO PLEASE WAIT......okay okay I'm not the real Deboner, he's still too weak from your last battle, he paid people to make me look like him, I'm a nobody really"
  "So that would make you a......DeCloner"
  "That was more painful than any stab wound"
  As the local prison wagon took the faux Deboner away the hero was joined by Anastasia, Brendanus, Joshius the tall, and Shawnus, and now Bogeyus man of numbers and literature, who missed everything cause he was smoking his vapor stick in his wagon, he thanked them all for their help as they surveyed the damage that had been caused to the harvest, suddenly Joshius tapped him on the shoulder.
  "I found out who the oracle is"
  "Oh really, who is it?"
  "It is Geraldus"
  "Hmmm that explains why I couldn't understand him, and why there is no plates"
  The hero thanked Joshius again and approached Anastasia, he grabbed her by the hand and asked if she was ready to go home and together look after their docile wolves, she nodded in agreement, he admired her greatly, she saved him on this day, and many days before.  As the group were saying their last goodbyes of the day Lord Whitticus entered the harvest, he stopped and looked around shocked, they all waited for him to comment on the destruction.
  "Look at all this staff on, no wonder there's too much overtime in this harvest!"

The Chicken Hero Saga 19: Tales from the Chicken Heroine

The Chicken Hero, as you may already know, keeps the chicken harvest running smoothly by roasting hens by the thousands and cleaving them apart with the biggest, sharpest knife in the land, all while making the thickest gravies you've ever seen. I, Anastasia, normally work as a relatively mad scientist in the basement of an old convent, but to help supplement the diets of ourselves and our fat, docile wolves, I also frequently attend the harvest as a serving wench. This is where the Chicken Hero and I first met, and where I fell in love with his wily charm, biting wit, and unparalleled bravery in the face of the busiest of harvests. 

While the Chicken Hero and his motley crew of misfit comrades keep the slaughter in check, we the serving wenches hold down the front of house by taming the appetites of the various beasts that enter our establishment. Our clientele range from the sweetest of elves and fairies to the most beastly of gargoyles and banshees. While we prefer to feed the kinder, gentler folk, some of the more aggressive troglodytes make their way to a seat and pound on the table with their first and scream until they are attended to. These types usually leave quite a mess and pay for their chicken in a fistful of exact copper. They don't understand advanced concepts such as time, in contexts like "food needs time to cook," and "if the harvest is full, creatures will have to wait their turn." Serving wenches must keep a smile on their faces at all times in the face of adversity, even when being pelted by the spittle of a pack of screaming goblins who felt that their chicken leg was not of satisfactory size or doneness, although we know no poultry leg smaller than that of an ostrich would be sufficient for some of these screaming beasts. Perhaps that could be our next special? 

I have been working at the harvest for the past three years, and each day brings a new assortment of folk from the surrounding villages. I always work early on the morning of Jezus, which makes some of the folk gripe that I am not at their place of worship instead, although they always sit down for a cup of tea and a plate of fried potato sticks anyway. We have regular folk who frequent the harvest weekly or more often, and many request the same serving wench each time. We have a pair of pixies who show up twice a week and always eat the same meal and always leave the same pleasant amount of copper behind. Many of our regular folk are a pleasure to serve. The merpeople just want beer and conversation, while the trolls prefer to find flyers posted on signposts that entitle them to a few coppers off their meals, eat and leave as fast as possible. Werewolves will tuck into a full rack of swine ribs and continue to be ravenous, whereas the unicorns tend to nibble on bowls of fresh grasses and vegetables. Each creature is unique, and each have different interactions with the serving wenches. 

One evening several years ago, an imp and a ghoul arrived together at the harvest during one of the busiest seasons. This is the season when those mythical beings who live in a faraway land called Ontarrioup deliver brightly coloured slips of papyrus to the creatures in the villages, allowing them to eat twice as much chicken for half the cost at the harvest. The imp and the ghoul sat down and presented me with one of these pieces of papyrus, demanded two dark bubbly sugar waters, and two of the more expensive cuts of chicken meat. Now, with these more expensive cuts, the folk must pay extra coppers to ensure we have enough revenue to continue the harvest for another year, regardless of how many pieces of papyrus are thrown at us. The ghoul and the imp devoured their meat and potatoes with gusto and slurped their dark bubbly sugar waters back and demanded more. They were unassuming, slightly rude, but nothing to write home about. When the time came to settle up, the imp flew into a rage and smashed her plate against the table, shattering it.

"YOU ADDED THE COPPERS WRONG, YOU IMBOCILE!" she screamed at me, while the ghoul huddled back into his chair in fear. I picked up the papyrus on which the numbers were written and recounted. "No, that is correct," I said, "including your hefty discount, you owe 17 coppers for your dinners." I took a step back. Her eyes glowed red. "BUT THE PAPYRUS SAID IT WAS A FULL 3 COPPERS LESS, YOU STUPID HUMAN WOMAN!" and shoved the papyrus in my face. The other patrons of the harvest grew quiet and watched the imp as she started to light the chair she was sitting in on fire in her cheap rage over 2 coppers. "Yes," I said, "but you asked for the most expensive cut of meat. It's written right on there, it's an extra copper and a half per meal." "WHAT DO YOU MEAN, ONE AND A HALF EXTRA COPPERS FOR WHITE MEAT!?!?!" she bellowed, swiping the broken porcelain onto the floor with her forearm. "THIS IS OUTRAGEOUS!!!" She picked up a sharp piece of glass and began to move toward me.

 The sounds of chopping and and clucking hens ceased. The rest of the serving wenches pulled out their trusty pens and massive bags of low denomination change, ready at a moment's notice to fight. I moved back from the imp, not breaking eye contact, and slowly grabbed my own piece of glass to fight back with. She was beginning to foam at the mouth. The sounds of chopping and clucking hens ceased. Suddenly, there was a loud grunt and a giant smash. I turned around and there was Brendanus, the half-giant, one of the few males who work amongst the serving wenches, exploding through the newly erected wall that once divided the cooking area from the front area, confusing wenches and Heroes alike. Brendanus, wielding his pen, rumbled forward.The wall was broken, and there in the dust stood the Bogeyus and his new vapour stick, Joshius the Tall, Bearded Mike, and finally the Chicken Hero, brandishing his trusted blade. A single chicken bawked loudly, awkwardly flew out from behind them, landed on its side and scurried out the open door into the village. The Chicken Hero raised his knife and shouted "Onward!", and the men moved forward to follow Brendanus. 

The ghoul, looking more aghast than ever, dropped 20 copper coins onto the table and began to pull the imp toward the door, out of the way of the oncoming Brendanus and the army of greasy men behind him. Bearded Mike stuck out his foot and tripped the ghoul, who let go of the imp and fell onto the floor. He jumped up and began to wrestle with Bearded Mike. Bogeyus inhaled deeply from his magical vapour stick and blew it into the ghoul's face, making the ghoul writhe. The imp had bolted back to the table, picked up the extra 3 copper coins that the ghoul had intended as a tip for dealing with his partner's lack of social skills and inability to read simple sentences, shouted "I'll be taking THAT," and hopped out of the open window, leaving the ghoul to contend with Brendanus, Bearded Mike, and Bogeyus. Joshius the Tall looked at me and nodded, and hopped out the window after the imp. The Chicken Hero and I stood surveying the damage left by the imp's rage. 

"You are okay?" the Hero asked me. "I am fine," I replied, "that's the third one to have that reaction this week. Thanks for the backup, I could've handled it myself though." I dropped the piece of porcelain from my hand and it clattered onto the floor. "Your idea of handling it may have ended up in bloodshed," the Hero replied, "you don't have much patience or mercy for those who are rude to serving wenches." "You're right, but only because everyone should be kinder to their serving wenches, because we are people too, not machines, and treating us and talking to us like old trash isn't very nice." I looked up, and there stood Joshius the Tall, holding the imp by the scruff of the neck. The imp was silent until Joshius the Tall shook it up and down, and then the imp looked a little green and whispered "I'm sorry I spoke to you rudely, you do not control the cost of the harvest, Joshius the Tall has explained it all to me." Joshius the tall then tossed the imp to the door. The imp fell onto the ghoul, and together they scrambled outside and vanished into the village. I wish I could say they were never seen again, but they still eat at the harvest frequently and, while they are slightly less violent, they still whine about the cost. 

"Excuse me?" Said a voice. I looked to the left at a table of goblins. "Could we get another pitcher of mead, please?" said one of them timidly. I put on the fakest grin I could muster. "Of course, my ducky. I'll be right back." 

THE END.

The chicken hero saga 18: Take a little trip with me

    It was a beautiful day in the harvest, cold because the winter winds blew this time of year, but unlike other realms the chicken hero heard of, when winter came at the harvest, it did not bring trouble or slow moving creatures, with the exception of Charlieus the pot scrubber. The hero was working away when he heard the relentless squawking of a flock of birds, as he stopped to enjoy the scene of them flying in unison he was disappointed to learn that it was just the take out maidens, as they walked by deep in their incessant chatter he shook his head, they were always squawking about something. It was going to be an important couple of days at the harvest as a member of the Council of Elders was coming to teach a new food item, it was still chicken of course, it was usually chicken, except when it was cow that one time, but this time the chicken would be placed in a boiling pot of oil, rumours were rampant that this idea came about due to how King Wittacus of Stagg dealt with any member of his regime that failed him. The hero and the rest of the staff were busy cleaning the harvest, polishing this, tucking this under there, hiding Jefficus the fry maker so he couldn't talk to the council member.
  Today the hero would be working with Zacharia, now there were a lot of unique people in the harvest, and Zacharia was no different, for he was a shape shifter, he didn't really exploit this ability like you figure most would, often times he looked like good ol Zacharia but sometimes he could make himself look like Joshias the tall, or Jamieus the hemp smoking elf, whichever one he felt like working that day. As the day went on and the hero prepared the meals and cleaned the harvest he began to feel hungry, and luckily enough as he began to seek out sustenance a serving maiden appeared with a large tray of chocolate cookies, saying that a mysterious cloaked person dropped them off at one of the tables and left, when the hero asked if she thought this was suspicious she responded
  "Well Karenus ate like three as soon as they laid them down and she seems fine"
  The hero was weary of the cookies but he was also hungry, and while he had won many battles during his time at the harvest, the battle with his stomach was one that could never win. He devoured the cookie and never felt any immediate effects but he still felt the need to investigate, he looked around at all the other members of the harvest, one of the maidens had expressed worry about Kevinus the cleaner, saying he had eaten one cookie and had been sat in the same spot for hours, he looked at the take out maidens, somehow they were managing to eat the cookies and still incessantly chatter without choking, it appeared that the cookies were legitimate, perhaps he would have another. As he approached the tray, three things surprised him, the first was that were cookies left at all, the second was that nobody had lost a hand, and the last was that weird voice he suddenly heard
  "You don't want to eat another one of those cookies, for they are cursed, they make you see things that aren't there"
  "I doubt that" responded the hero "Everyone seems fine, now step aside giant chicken and let me get more sustenance"
  The hero kept walking eagerly toward the tray when he stopped in his tracks, the only giant chicken he knew was Cluckus and he was off in battle, suddenly he felt woozy, the earth began to spin, he felt like he had just gotten out of Petrus the thirds wagon, and all of a sudden nothing looked right, Byronus the dwarf had grown to eight feet tall, Joshias the tall had shrunk down to a dwarf, Bogeyus, man of numbers and literature was working, no no things were not normal at the harvest. The hero knew he needed to clear his mind, and he had to get food, he was so hungry, how did Jamieus the hemp smoking elf not gain five hundred pounds? And did his feet still work? These questions clogged his mind, his usual tremendous focus was gone, he knew he had to help the people of the harvest but he just wanted to eat chips of potato. Suddenly he saw his beautiful Anastasia, truly a vision whether his mind was clear or not
  "What has happened here?"
  "Some mysterious stranger brought in cookies, the giant chicken told me not to trust them, but hey I've grown an extra finger so they can't be all bad right?"
  "Giant chicken, extra finger, townspeople giving us things instead of yelling at us, something doesn't add up, did anybody get a good look at the person's face?"
  "No Karenus just grabbed the tray and the said thank you as the person slowly walked away"
  The hero tried to fight through the fog in his mind to come up with a solution, he had heard that Marias had become a witch since being banished from the harvest, he knew it was a long shot but if they reached out to her maybe she had a potion that could help, but he did not know how to contact her and he was without his usual sharp thinking.
  "I have an idea, come with me" said Anastasia
  Finding him still on his perch she grabbed Kevinus the cleaner by his arm
  "It's no good" the hero cried "Kevinus ate the cookie too, he's been sat there for hours"
  "No, I didn't have either cookie" Kevinus said sounding confused
  "Kevinus, I need you make food, something that is not usually prepared at the harvest" said Anastasia throwing bowls and pots at him
 "Well that's a little strange but okay"
  Kevinus set out to prepare chicken in a different way than usual and in an instant a puff of smoke appeared and a voice trembled
  "Do you have any for me"
  There before them stood Marias, looking as ageless as ever
 "How did you know how to summon me" Marias asked
 "Ummm lucky guess" replied Anastasia "We need your help, the harvest has been hit with some kind of potion, we need your help to fix it"
 "This is what I will need, the ground up bones of a chicken, the ear of a wild pig, one live frog, the feather of the Eagle that lives on the highest tree, some tree resin, wild berries, the finger of a dwarf, and some salt and pepper"
  Without delay Anastasia set out to find those things, some would be harder than others of course, luckily she was surrounded by chicken bones and Byronus the dwarf was working that day, and had fingers to spare so those came easy. As she hopped on her trusty steed Brody she ran into Karenus, saying she was off to find the cure for those cookies
  "Who needs a cure?" Karenus asked "If that person was still here I would kiss their wrinkly face"
  Anastasia rode like the wind, luckily her trusty steed Brody was rarely tired and could run for days if she needed, as she tried to think about things she needed she also thought of Marias, how it was nice to see her again after the way she had been banished, and that time had not been kind to her, she had even more wrinkles than before
  "More....wrinkles......oh no"
   With realization set in Anastasia set back for the harvest to find everyone down on the ground except the hero who was tied to a spit with his own trusty chicken string, and Kevinus who was back sitting on his perch
  "Kevinus, what spell did she use to make you paralyzed"
  "What spell? What do you mean?"
  Anastasia knew she had to stop Marias, but she had grown powerful, it would take all her wit and cunning to stop her
  "Look, somebody ordered food and didn't need it"
  With that Marias turned sharply around, using the distraction Anastasia untied the hero from his trusty chicken string and flung it towards Marias bounding her tightly.
  "YOU WILL NEVER HOLD ME, I WILL HAVE MY REVENGE ON PETRUS THE SECOND"
  "How about I give you this free food and you remove the spell from everyone?"
  "Can I have a little extra?"
  "Sure"
   All of a sudden everyone came too, the hero was groggy, he looked at Anastasia
  "Sorry for sitting this one out, you did fine work"
  "Thanks, how do you feel?"
  "I am okay, my memory is hazy, I think I was supposed to write about when the villagers were afraid of gluten but I can't remember"
  "That's good, I am glad, now lets go home"
  As the hero walked with Anastasia he was proud of her, it was different being the one having to be saved, he looked at her admirably, then he looked past her at the vision behind her, a face from the past, surely another hallucination, but he felt fine, but the words he heard were no illusion
  "Hello Hero"
 
  "Hello.....Deboner"

The chicken hero saga 17: Then and now and what's to come

     It had been an exiting few months for the hero and the harvest, too bad his official historian's quill had broke so he couldn't write about it. What's that you say? Why couldn't he just get a new quill, you see only the finest writing instruments could be used to tell such a grand tale, and to get a new quill the historian had to make a long trek through many lands to find a rare mallard, then remove it's center feather and drain the water off him, it was worth it when people saw the historian's beautiful writing, when ask if he resented the hero for making him go to such lengths for the beautiful ink, the historian usualy just said it really was water off a ducks back. Some months ago Maria, the eldest of the harvest had been sat down by the council and told she could no longer perform her duties due to fears and concerns of the townsfolk, as she was being led out the door she tried to place a curse on the head of the harvest Petrus the second of his name, the hero watched as they led Maria away, he knew she would land on her near decrepit feet and that blast he heard a short time later was just a mere coincidence.
     Maria wasn't the only one that had departed, Tylerus had left for the great land of Torontus to help build doors and windows for new huts, leaving his sister in the care of Jamieus the magical elf, he promised to take great care of her and breed many strong sons, though his own weakness was quite legendary.
    Also newsworthy was the return of Petrus the third of his name, who had left the harvest to help oversee the harvest in Pearl Mountain, he doesn't say much of his time there, when asked he just usually falls into a fetal position and cries. However, upon his travels from the armpit that is Pearl Mountain he met a mystic from a roving band of gypsies, he was able to barter a deal for the few beans he had in his pocket for a magical drawing tool that made whatever he sketched come to life, now some people thought it was forged by Lucifer himself from fires hotter than even their hottest of ovens, causing the hero to quip that it was sketchy as hell, which caused everyone to burst out in laughter, cause everyone laughed when the hero quipped, well there was that one time that one person didn't, they were later banished.
    Then there was the day when one of the council of elders stumbled on an unmanned heard of cattle and thought that they could be useful in the chicken harvest. It was decreed from on high that from now on the chicken harvest would also be the cow harvest. They were going to throw all their resources into it, grain, corn, wood, whatever it took. The council wanted this to be the best meat the townsfolk had ever eaten so they assembled a team of apothecaries from every corner of the earth to create a new way of cooking, and lo they created a formula that the cow would slowly cook at the dawning of the sun and would not be ready till the dawning of the morrow. By this time the elder in charge of the cows had become quite mad and when he saw the formula at work he exclaimed
   "Now that's COWAZY"
    That was enough for the rest of the council, tired of his cow craziness they banded together and threw him into the eternal chicken fire, his screams of  "COW THAT'S HOT" were the last words ever herd from him.
   The busy season had started at the harvest and as people have done throughout the ages the townsfolk flocked in droves to feast and revel in the merriment. The dawning of this day would bring the celebration of the Black Friday, the day when the sun did not rise and the townsfolk took to looting all the stores, and on the morrow of the morrow was the local village parade where the villages worshipped a false idol in the form of a bearded fat man and hoped to get presents. This busy season had already done some weird things to the workers at the harvest, Kennius the cook, partaker of Jamieus' magical plant was broken two days in, left a mere shell of himself walking around only muttering the phrase "Stuffing......stuffing.....stuffing" over and over again. Bogeyus, man of numbers and literature just walked around all day counting and screaming "I HAVE TO ORDER MORE, THERE'S NOT GONNA BE ENOUGH" despite that fact that were perhaps seven of those things already, he finally reached his breaking point one day when the hero asked if they could get a certain thing and he grabbed his ordering quill, pointed it high in the sky and screamed " I HAVE THE POWER" then pointing the quill towards his cat as if it would transform into a huge beast. The hero knew of only on man who could do that, and Bogeyus was not that man.
   The hero was enjoying these days, he was happy with his fair young maiden Annastasia, walking his trusty steed Bear who was also a dog, and she walking her trusty steed Brody who was also a dog. it was quiet, no evil villains to speak of, perhaps he had found the contentment he had always longed for. Then, just he and Annastasia were enjoying the peace and quiet they saw a flock of townsfolk running, one of them, who appeared to be the leader screaming
  "DON'T EAT THE GLUTEN YOU WILL GET SICK"
  Annastasia looked at our hero with a quizzical look "What was that about?"
  The hero just looked and responded "I"m not sure but I think our peace and quiet is over"

In Rod we trust..........until we don't

  Throughout the rich and interesting history of Newfoundland its people have always thought of it as the little engine that could. Our history of hard times, brutal weather, and love of salt meat have given gave us a thick skin that could weather all the abuse we took from other provinces, and the rest of the world. Then something happened, up through the ground came a bubblin crude and all of a sudden we had money, we could buy things, and our thick skin went away. Now if you anyone across the world bad mouths our traditions the pitchforks come out, we have gone from a province with a strong sense of community to not being afraid to yell and and deride the elderly.
  It was a beautiful fall day in July when Rod Stewart took the stage at Confederation Hill to a throng of adoring fans. Everyone was happy and singing all the songs they grew up with, decked out in their summer parkas and tuques, and everyone was in awe of Rod, here he was, 200 years old and still moving like a 100 year old, busting a hip across the stage. Earlier in the day after experiencing good ol fashioned Newfoundland weather first hand Rod Stewart went into a local store that sells fur coats and asked for some clothes to make sure his back up dancers wouldn't freeze, the owner of the store saw an opportunity and he took it, in most cases that is what heroes do, in this case it is what people looking for publicity do. After putting Rod into a sealskin coat he asked for a picture, hey you can't fault him for it, you do what you got to do to make a buck, and if it gets you noticed then it worked, and boy did it get him noticed.
  Now for anyone who doesn't know, Newfoundlanders are sensitive when it comes to the seal hunt and it's history. Opponents of the seal hunt are all like "DON'T YOU HURT THAT SEAL" and Newfoundlanders are like "GET BENT" so it was not a surprise that when the picture of Rod in the sealskin coat went viral provincial pride was at an all time high. I haven't seen the province come together like this since the first episode of Republic of Doyle. Reactions were mixed between pumped and SUPER pumped, Rod was the man, and Paul McCartney could suck it, and other celebrities who dared speak ill of the seal hunt could suck it, we didn't need you anyway, we had Rod on our side. It is like we finally had the support of the coolest kid in class, we were accepted, we were somebody.
  We were also jumping the gun, for you see eventually the fog lifts and people get to go home, which is what Rod did, and he saw the picture, and no doubt saw the heat he was taking the the anti-seal hunt people. Rod came out, said he was upset that the picture of him went online, he doesn't actually support our seal hunting ways and suddenly became the most hated man on Confederation Hill since Cathy Dunderdale. People jumped down his velvety throat when he said he didn't know anything about the industry but didn't support it, and made fun of him for it. Hey, I barely know anything about sex trafficking but I don't support it, who has sex in traffic anyway? All those cars honking at you. People lit the torches they should have used for warmth on the hill and were ready to burn Rod at the stake, of course they won't get their chance, he's gone now, likely never to come back if he's seen the reactions at all, and this ladies and gentlemen is why we can't have nice things.
  It is hard enough to get big acts to come here as it is, most of them don't even know where we are, hell the Eagles thought they were in Ontario, though that's probably because they had dehydration due to lack of water at Salmon Fest. If we, as a province, can't learn to let things go and let everything bother us we deserve to have Shannyganock as headliners at every big show, which is not a knock on them, they are a great local band. So what if Rod Stewart says he didn't know what the coat was made of, I don't know what any of my coats are made of, and everyone has pictures of themselves on the Internet they don't want there, and probably didn't know were there. I'm not on anyone's side here, there are always going to be groups that support killingof things and not killing of things, even Jesus was in the middle of one of those battles. It's like our province is on is one one of those dating sites and thought we had  finally found someone who understood us, till they left us in the cold, but don't worry everybody there's plenty of seals in the sea.

Chicken Hero Saga Chapter 16: Putting walls between us

 The chicken hero didn't know quite what to make of the situation that faced him. For the first time since he could remember he didn't have anything witty or sarcastic to say, as he looked around at the bodies of his fallen harvesters his expression was blank, he worked with these people, mostly enjoyed their company, how did it get to this? He looked straight ahead and he knew, as he saw the giant wall, once white, now covered in red, he had never faced anything like this before.


**********Two days earlier***********


  Today at the harvest all hands were on deck, for it was the feast of Black Friday, the one day of the year there was no sun and the village was left in perpetual darkness. To appease the gods all merchants slashed their wares to ridiculous prices causing throngs of people to flock to their wagons and markets. The chicken hero didn't quite see the appeal of everyone fighting over objects, but it certainly worked better than Black Plague Friday, even if there was almost as many casualties. The hero arrived at the harvest and instantly noticed that something was different, the harvest seemed smaller than usual, there was a giant wall where before there was no giant wall. This wall blocked the access from his station to where the villagers dined. How did this wall get here? he asked himself, was it the work of the dreaded Deboner, no it was all quiet on that front, as far as he knew he was still dead, was it one of the other dreaded villains he had faced, he didn't remember their names, surely he could have went back to check but who has time for that.
  The wall wasn't the only thing he noticed, the air felt heavier, sure it was quieter, and it blocked out some of the more annoying serving wenches, but the harvest felt more claustrophobic, more confined. He had heard examples of walls being put up all over the world, it was usually to keep the dark people in check, the ones who could control the dark spirits. He heard about one really long wall in the far east, he didn't know much about it, only that it was pretty great. There was something off about this wall though, he could not put his finger on it, cause every time he touched it there was a spark that jolted him backwards. He didn't have a good feeling about this, mostly cause he was numb from the shock of the wall, but also because he had that familiar feeling that it was going to get worse before it got better.

**********The next day***********

   The chicken hero didn't know how things had escalated so quickly, everywhere he looked around the harvest his co-harvesters were at each other's throats, this was not who they were, it was supposed to them versus everybody, not them versus them. The pressure never got to them before, they had known the busy season and always gotten through it, something was different now, it was the wall, some kind of force trapped inside was causing them to turn on each other, some of the serving wenches even said that if you listened closely enough you could hear a voice inside there, which shocked the chicken hero, he didn't think they ever listened. The chicken hero knew what he had to do, a plan must be made, that wall had to come down, he had experienced a lot of awkward silences in his time; however, all the silences at work were making it difficult. He could not do this alone, it was time to rally the troops.
   First he sought out his brother Robbieus the strong, who could throw objects and send them hurdling two villages over, next he went looking for the mighty gronk Brendor, whose ability to smash was unmatched. Next came Bogeyus, man of literaure and numbers, who could order the tools they needed, even if some were special orders and they could not be gotten by regular means. Next came Jamieus the hemp smoking leprachaun, the chicken hero figured he could try to climb the wall because he liked getting high. Last came Allysiaus, well mostly because she stumbled in on the planning and they could not get rid of her, plus her shrill voice could make anything want to go away. Everyone was up to speed on the plan, everyone was ready, they would meet the next day, as they were leaving Brendor let out a mighty scream
 "TOMORROW WALL YOU MEET THE WALLBANGERS"
  "Ahahahahahahaha" giggled Jamieus
  "Don't call us that" said the hero ".....well maybe Allysiaus" he added.

 ************The day it all went wrong***********

  It was just them now, as the hero looked at the big dumb inanimate object he moved Brendor out of the way so he could see the wall better. He could swear it was glowing, but it could have been the sun's reflection. Bogeyus was the first to try, he had been up all night doing mathematical calculations trying to figure out the proper place to attack the wall, as he approaced the wall he started to cough, but the immense power of his smoker's lung was not phasing the wall, it stood strong, it did not bend or break, Bogeyus coughed and coughed with all he had till he passed out. Unphased our heroes proceeded, it was now the turn of Robbieus, he throw many objects at the wall but they just bounced off, unfortunately as Bogeyus was starting to awaken he was hit by one of the objects and rendered unconscious again. Running out of things to throw Robbie picked up Byronus the dwarf who happened to walk by, with a mighty heave he launched him into the air and with a mighty thud Byronus hit the wall, landing on top of Bogeyus who had just started to stir. It was now the turn of Brendor, he knew he would have to smash like he had never smashed before, he moved back as far as he could, smoke poured from his nostrils like a raging bull and with a loud BRENDOR SMASH he was off, but he was no match for the wall, and he fell down into the heap.
  It was now the turn of Allysiaus, she simply walked up to the wall and started telling it a story, as the chicken hero had instructed her to do, she kept talking and talking but the wall stayed in one piece, surely it had the resolve of steel, finally, mercifully Allysiaus lost her voice collapsing to the ground clutching her throat. It was now the turn of Jamieus the hemp smoking leprachaun who was........already in the pile of bodies, he had fallen asleep. Frustrated now the hero started throwing whatever he could at the wall, plates, glasses, the bottle of red Grenadine Elixir they used for kids drinks. Just then the chicken hero heard a familiar voice, was it coming from the wall, no it was coming from alongside him, it was Anna the palindromic one, digger of truth.
 "What happened here?"
 "We tried to take down the wall that was causing all the fighting, we needed to get out, how did you get in here?"
  "I.....just walked around the corner"
  And with that the chicken hero noticed an opening to get around the wall
  "Hmm, a secret passageway, very clever"
  "No, no...it was always here" added Anna whose name was the same in forward or reverse
  "I can't believe there was a secret door"
   "But there wasn't........yes there was a secret door"
  In the days that followed they learned to live with the wall, they had even gotten used to it, and if there was a silver lining to it, it would be several more days before Allysiaus got her voice back.

The chicken hero saga 15: The Book of Faces

   As the hero lay bound on the table he had a feeling like he never had before, impending doom. Would this be the untimely end of the hero? He had so much left to do, he had to finish that puzzle he was working on, he had to finish that loaf of bread before it got moldy, he hated when that happened. The hero fought relentlessly to free himself but as he looked up he knew it was too late, the giant chicken was swinging his cleaver and now it was the hero's turn to be quartered. Just as the knife was about to hit him he awoke in a cold sweat, it was all just a dream, it was always just a dream. Fully awake now and since it was morning the hero arose, he lit a fire to warm some bread, but it was too late, the mold had started to spread, he saw red at the site of the green and tossed the remaining loaf into the fire, he needed a walk to calm himself down. There seemed to be a lot of people out this morning, lining the village roads, but they didn't seem to be doing anything, they all had books in their hands and were staring at them.
   As the hero walked along the road to find out what was happening the villagers started screaming out the weirdest things as they flipped through the pages.
  "I like this" one person screamed
  "Why would anybody draw a picture of that poor animal being hurt, I'm seriously considering never looking at this book again until this stops."
  Just then the villagers looked up at the hero and surrounded him, asking if they could be his friend.
  "But I thought I was your friend already" the hero remarked.
  "It doesn't count unless it shows it in the Book of Faces"
   "BOOK OF FACES......BOOK OF FACES.....BOOK OF FACES" the mob shouted.
    The hero had never heard tell of this Book of Faces before, he had not seen anything like what had come over the townspeople, those that were once hardworking industrious people now spent their time scrolling through this book commenting on whatever they saw. As he walked through the mob of people he heard more people shout.
   "I wish I could like this a thousand times over" shouted one villager.
   " No no no I do not like this at all but there is no way I can not like, the ability is not there." shouted another.
   The hero was becoming concerned, he had not seen the villagers so spellbound since the time the harvest started giving out balls of chocolate with their meals at the end of every year. Surely this was the work of some kind of sorcerer, the black arts had to be at work somehow. As he neared the harvest, he heard more shouting but the people weren't making sense.
  "Of course this happens to me......ugh"
  " What happened to you? Can I be of assistance?" the hero questioned
  " I don't want to talk about it" the villager responded
  The hero questioned why people started talking so vaguely, it had to be the book, whatever this book was nothing good was coming from it. He arrived at the harvest thinking he would be safe from the lunacy that was occurring outside, but as he looked around the strangeness continued. All around the serving wenches and kitchen guys were crushing little candies, trying to line them up in a pattern and then destroying them. From all over the harvest they shouted at him.
  "Come crush these candies with us" they said inviting him to come play.
  "Help me crush these candies, I am dying and need a life"
   "Do you require medical attention?" the hero asked confusedly
  The hero knew he had to do something, he had to find who was responsible, on the way out of the harvest he was stopped by Bogeyus, man of literature and numbers.
   "Be my friend hero" they had even gotten to Bogeyus, was nobody safe?
  As he scanned the city looking for anything suspicious, well more suspicious then how the villagers were acting he came across a little boy on the road, the boy was covering his mouth coughing, and look sickly white.
  "What is the matter little child?"
  " Mr. Hero I have the plague, the doctor has the cure but told me he needs to get likes from all the villagers before he will give me the potion, my mom and dad are gone asking the people to like him."
  The insanity knew no bounds, just then the town judge came riding along on his wagon, the hero approached him hurriedly.
  "Your honor, there is a doctor who will not operate on people unless the people like him, you have to stop this."
  "I'm sorry hero new laws make this perfectly legal, if you read this parchment it says so right here under the part where it says couples are not legally together unless it is enacted and made official in the Book of Faces."
  Before he could ask who created this book the judge was gone. The hero looked around, all over there were people having arguments over the stupidest things, people were drawing pictures of their food, a group of girls were taking pictures of themselves resembling a duck for some reason. He had to put an end to this madness, approaching a villager he had an idea.
  "I need to borrow your book of faces" he wrote on the pad, creator of the Book of Faces and the name of the sorcerer magically appeared, Zuckerus.
  "How did you find him so fast?" the villager questioned.
  "Well if you look closely it shows you that over time The Book of Faces can track your location and all your vital information."
  "WHAT, they can't do that, they are spying on us, I'm going to run and tell everybody."
  Now that he knew who he was looking for, and just where he was the hero set out to find Zuckerus the evil sorcerer. As he approached the ivory tower he expected something a little darker for such a purveyor of evil and deceit. As he moved forward a voice boomed.
  "You think you can stop my Book of Faces, I have millions of people all over the world in my army and if I fall they will unleash havoc upon you."
  "Book of Faces, more like Book of Feces" he was disappointed that no one was around to hear that line.
  "Come out Zuckerus, show yourself to me, I just want to be friends"
  Suddenly Zuckerus appeared, wasting no time the hero let fly his trusty chicken string, but Zuckerus disappeared in a flash.
  "You think I didn't know you were coming, I have messengers everywhere" Just then Zuckerus appeared again levelling the hero and knocking him over.
  As the hero started to get up there was noise off in the distance and huge cloud of dust, thousands of people were marching towards them.
  "Look it's my army, all my Book of Faces users come to watch me end you"
  The look on the face of Zuckerus changed when the angry mob surrounded him and started to stomp him.
  "This is for invading my privacy" one screamed
  "This is for nobody liking what I say" screamed another
  "This is for my food getting cold cause I have to draw a picture of it to show everyone" screamed another."
  The hero stood and walked away from the chaos as the mob continued to attack. As he headed home he saw a bird in a tree, there was something menacing about that bird, but he couldn't put his finger on it, he didn't know why but the sounds the bird made ran shivers up his spine.
 Tweet Tweet.

The Chicken hero saga 14: Maria's curse Part II

  The night sky was becoming as dark as an African.........night, he was distracted by some moving object and had trouble finishing that last thought. He would need to focus now though, for trouble was coming. Had it been that long already? Maria wondered aloud, a thousand years went by seemingly in the blink of an eye, but the hero didn't have time to listen to the polite ramblings of the old woman as off in the distance he saw a figure emerging from the darkness, they were short in stature, for a moment he had hoped it was the long awaited return of Byronus, but that could not be possible, for after being thrown by Robbius the strong a fortnight ago there were still reports of him sailing through the air. People were actually using him as a unit of measurement for travel, telling people that if they wanted to go to the next village all they had to do was go as straight as the Byronus flies.
  The figure was cloaked but he could tell it was a woman, yes he knew what woman this was, it was the witch that had cursed Maria. She removed her cloak and a rare look of horror crept over the face of the hero, her face resembled the skin of a chicken left laying around for days, her voice was the harshest sound he had ever heard, and he had heard Allysius speak in her high pitched gibberish. Time had not been kind to this decrepit old hag, and he had a feeling that she was not going to be kind to him.
  "Come on Maria, we have to run till I can figure out a plan"
   But it was the middle of the day, despite the darkness, and everyone knew that Maria didn't run well in the middle of the day. The hero picked up whatever he could find and threw it in the path of the witch, who was now gaining, doing whatever he could to block her path, he even grabbed a nearby baby and showed it to a group of serving wenches, causing a circle formation that was hard for the witch to get around and would buy them some time. On the way they were met by Jamieus the hemp smoking leprechaun, when the hero told him what was coming Jamieus had no fear.
  "Sure that's nothing, she only needs a hug, and I'm just the one to give it to her"
  "You don't understand Jamieus, she is going to swallow us up in a big dark hole"
  "HA, that's what she said"
   "That is exactly what she said, she was screaming it at us when she was approaching"
    The hero grabbed Jamieus and led him and Maria to find a place where he could think, he looked back and saw and the old woman getting closer and closer, he wondered why Maria couldn't move that way, The hero saw the lights of the harvest drawing near and he knew he couldn't let the darkness overtake it, for nobody in that village wanted anything do with dark, they were all white, white, white. The hero now stopped running, he had a plan, he urged Jamieus to run and get the giant Brendanus, their trio had dominated in the sport of hurling, he stopped and urged Maria to run before everything got cold....and dark. He set up a net using his trusty and effective chicken string, hoping it would hold until Jamieus and Brendanus returned. The old woman ran straight into the string, it was working, she was being held back, but then she wasn't, through some witchcraft the string disintegrated, he could wait no longer, he took out his hurling ball and threw, a good shot, it hit her, she wobbled and did not fall over, he threw another, but missed, he silently cursed his wild inconsistency. Then from behind to the left came a whirling orb that ended up hitting the witch head on knocking her far back, before he even heard the all too familiar words he knew what had happened.
  "Did you see the curve on that, what a hook" roared the giant Brendanus
  Jamieus stood by with an approving look until a huge gust of air sent him flying into the night, the hero and Brendanus stood stopped in their tracks as a bigger gust of air sent Brendanus flying. She had recovered well for a woman who was thousands of years old. It was just them now.
  "Why do you run boy, is it so hard to be polite that you would rather flee then talk to me, well your problems are almost over, for soon the only words these wretched fools will no how to say will be Hello, and how are you, and excuse me dear, and there is nothing you can do about it."
  "Listen lady.....ish thing, whatever you are, I have manners, I was always told to help old ladies across the village streets, and now I'm gonna help you across the street, INTO HELL."
  Feeling proud of himself for that last line he charged.....backwards, as a gust of air knocked him over, dazed he looked up to see the witch standing over him, her bony hand nearing his face.
  "With one touch you will be under my command, you will be cursed like the girl was cursed......."
  Just then she stopped talking, her hand stopped moving, she was frozen in fear, what is that could possibly scare this supernatural entity, the hero crawled backwards and looking behind him he could see what stopped her, emerging from the darkness came the pasty frame of the far undressed Bogeyus, man of numbers and literature. The image that once haunted the hero now haunted her.
  "My eyes have never seen such small amounts of denim pantalooms, or such amounts of wool for feet coverings, the horror..........the horror, the curse is not worth this."
  With that the old hag was gone, and the skies lightened, it appeared the trouble was over, they were safe for the next thousand years, or at least till the next threat came along. Bogeyus looked at the hero with a confused look on his face.
  "Who was that, one of the villagers complaining"
  "Um something like that, she said something about wanting all dark and not getting it, I'm glad you showed up Bogeyus, now lets go get you some longer pantalooms."

The Chicken Hero saga 13: Marias Curse Part 1

   It was a sweltering day in the chicken harvest as the sun beat down endlessly, it was so hot that our hero thought he could actually fry an egg on pavement, if pavement had actually existed.
  "Note to self" he thought while writing an idea down "Invent pavement."
   It was a slow time of year at the harvest, the good weather combined with business being divided between the villages of Kelsius and Pearl Mountain was taking it's toll on the amount of villagers who came in to dine, sure they were still prosperous but the extended downtime led to some interesting ways to keep busy. Games were created to kill the boredom, though some often backfired such as when a rousing game of throw the dwarf went wrong after Robbias, who had the strength of ten men launched Byronus some two towns over and he was not heard from again.
   The hero feared boredom sometimes, because he did not trust it, he knew if the times were uneventful now that something would happen later to make up for it. The Chicken king was still out there though he had defeated him and his kickin chickens once, and something in his stomach told him he had not yet seen the last of the Deboner, for he knew he was not that easy to eliminate, no he was quite hard indeed. With the sun keeping all the villagers outside and a shortage of little people around to throw the hero needed something to keep himself occupied, he liked stories, he considered himself a man of literature, he had read that book that time, so he decided to go around and ask his fellow harvesters for a story he could listen to. As the hero set out find out more about his harvesters he was stopped in his tracks, frozen by the horror that was in front of him. The hero stood straight, unmoving, he had never known fear before, he had fought many battles but never had evil come this close to home, for there in front of him stood the co-harvest manager Bogias, man of numbers and books, clad in tiny panatlooms made of denim, a shirt with the sleeves removed and socks darned from the wool of what appeared to be two sheep. His pasty legs and torso showed an uncanny ability to avoid the sun's rays, and his hairless body, the stuff of legend, looking like a guinea pig that just escaped the womb of it's mother.
    For the first time in his brave life the hero knew he must flee, with a quick hello he went off in the other direction in search of anything he could do to cut the image out of his brain, for it would haunt him for the rest of his days. On the way to find something to scrub his brain clean, he ran past Marias who made sure to say hello to him, he was moving so fast he almost never said hello back but then he thought of the story he had heard, it was known that Marias was cursed in the long long ago, that she had to stop and say hello to everyone, and if the greetings were not returned, the curse would be passed on to that person. Looking for anything to take his mind off the horrors he had witnessed previously he went up to her with an offering of food, for she had a hearty appetite even over the age of a thousand.
    "Hello Marias" the hero called to her "I was wondering if you ever get frustrated having to say hello to every single person you meet?"
    "Well you know dear-she called everybody dear- it was rough for the first hundred years, I lived in the mountains for a long time because if you scream hello, it echoes for days and that saves a lot of time, there is always a loophole, remember that dear."
    "Do you mind if I ask you the story of how it happened?"
    "Not at all dear, I've told this story many times. It was back in the long long ago when the earth was orbited by nine planets, and you can bet Uranus that Pluto was one of them, it was said that when these nine planets aligned darkness would take over the earth and it only happens every thousand years or so. I was just a girl then, I remember I was in the yard playing with my pet Mastodon.....Fuzzy was his name."
    "Oh Fuzzy was he?
    "No, not really dear, Fuzzy had no hair"
    "Oh so Fuzzy wasn't Fuzzy, was he?"
    "That's not the point dear, anyway where was I? Oh yes I was playing with Fuzzy when the skies darkened, I had never seen such darkness, even the so called Dark Ages were brighter than you would think. I ran into to tell my father, but I could not talk well at the time for I was so young and I said daddy daddy the darks is coming, and at first he taught the slaves had gotten free and was going to defend our home. Then he looked outside and he saw how dark it was and he said we had to run, and there was little time. So I grabbed what things I could and Fuzzy and we made a run for it, I wasn't sure what was happening but I knew things weren't right."
   Marias stopped and looked in the sky and she shivered as if remembering something horrifying. The hero stopped and saw the image of Bogias, and he shivered at the memory of something horrifying.
   "In our rush to flee our village I bumped into an older woman, I did not see her face because of the cloak she had on, let this be a lesson dear, never trust anyone in a cloak. I was so scared that I did not say hello to this woman, I just wanted to catch up with my parents and Fuzzy, as I went to move she grabbed my arm with her bony fingers and told me I was a mean little child for not saying hello, and she begin to chant this weird spell, when she was done she told me that I was now cursed, that I would live for thousands of years and have to say hello to everyone, and if they didn't say it back, they too would be cursed, apparently while evil she still believed in being polite. For the first hundred years it was rough, I do not want to say hello to everyone, not everyone deserves it, but I do not want anyone else to suffer this fate so I go out of my way to make sure they say hello back, hoping someday I will find that woman and the curse will be lifted."
   The hero hugged Marias and thanked her for telling him, but something else stopped in him in his tracks, no it wasn't just the horrible image of Bogias this time, it was another thought
   "Marias, did you say the darkness only comes every thousand years?"
   "Yes dear, why?"
   "Because look at how dark it is over on the horizon"
   "Oh no dear, it's time again"
   The hero looked off in the distance, he knew trouble was coming and that in fact the slow times were over, and he thought maybe the darkness might bring back the cloaked woman, and he could lift Marias curse, this story was far from over, it would definitely be continued.

Paint by the numbers

   First off I want to start off by apologizing to the two or so(that includes my proofreading) readers of my blog for the lack of updates, sometimes life just gets in the way, not mine really, I'm sure others have lives, I'm just really lazy outside of work. Today I had to dust off the old corner of the Internet when a juicy news story came over the wire, yes that's how long it's been since I've updated anything on here, I still use a wire, I was going to upgrade to an email but there are two reasons why I did not do this. Firstly, the email chunkylover53@aol.com was already taken by some guy in Springfield and the second was that somebody warned me there was a lot of spam, and spam is terrible, I don't even think it's real meat, and all compacted in that hard to open little can. Recently on the radio I heard a commercial for a summer camp run by the local paintball organization Frontline, at first listen I thought that's a great idea, round all the hoodlums up and and fire them off in the woods somewhere. However, upon further investigation what was revealed was not a fun, educational camp but a building ground for a future bloodthirsty militia.
   I decided to try and go undercover into their secret training ground, which was an educational experience in itself, did you know if you go into a clothing store and tell them "I need to get into some boys pants" they will look at you funny and call the police, I do now. With the first attempt a terrible failure I decided to try an sneak a kid in there, some would say I probably should have asked his parents first, but there was no time, I had to get the scoop before anyone else, and hey the picture they put up in his "have you seen this child?" poster looks good, he looks really happy, they should be proud of the little family they have. With little Stevie(he told me his real name but really there was no time for paying attention) firmly enrolled in the camp I asked this ten year old boy if he knew how to use a phone so he could call me with the info, as it turns out not only could he use a phone but he upgraded my iPhone to get the best wifi reception possible.
  As the days went on I began to worry about little Stevie, I knew he would make it back to his family (although those news stories and commercials were bothersome to the whole under cover expose I had established) but it was days since I heard from him first, so I decided to try and sneak in to get a word with him, shutting off my words with friends(thanks for downloading that game Stevie) and set off to see what I could see. Sneaking along a chain link fence I could not believe what I saw, I did not see boys enjoying their youth and having fun, I saw little machines marching back and fourth spouting cadences. As I watched on in horror I suddenly laid eyes on Stevie, catching his attention I got him to come over, and he had changed, his eyes once filled with joy and wonder were now cold steel, his hair now shaved bald along with the rest of the kids, and worst of all his name wasn't even Stevie anymore, he was now known as Ravager, what had I done? I swore to him I was going to bust him out, I just wish I hadn't spent the ransom money already, I could have paid for the rest of camp and got him out, but all of a sudden that wasn't my biggest problem, I was surrounded by a bunch of little death machines, and suddenly I was taken captive.
  I awoke several hours later in a daze, and was mortified by what I had seen, all around me kids were taking target practice, or climbing trees with frightening agility. One kid was gutting and skinning a bear, A BEAR, that I legitimately think he killed himself, looking around I saw other kids in bamboo cages, there's not even bamboo in this province, when I asked one little boy about the prisoner kids, his just looked at me with a blank expression and stated coldly
  "They drew first paint, not me"
  As I tried to get more answers out of him a man approached, obviously the leader of the camp and man in charge. I asked him how he could do this to these innocent little kids, and he simply stated two words.
  "Red Dawn"
  Apparently this man watched movies, and was especially affected by the 1980's movie where America was invaded and a group of brave, hungry teenagers led by Patrick Swayze defended themselves against the threat. The man said he saw that movie and swore to never let it happen to Canada so he formed a secret training ground where kids could become super soldiers. I knew I had to do something, I had to escape, I screamed at him that he couldn't hold me and that I would escape to alert everyone as to what was going on here, and tell everyone what an inhuman monster he was. The man just smiled at me, and said I was free to go, that in fact it was merely a training exercise, and then gave me a one hundred dollar coupon to their paintball field.......................... I mean I guess he's not that bad, someone has to teach these kids discipline right, look at little Stevie's parents, they let him go off with a complete stranger, some people I tell you.

That's news to me

 
  Attention dear reader, we interrupt the ongoing chicken saga for this special news update, as apparently things happen in real life, dark things........disturbing things. Did you know that Celine Dion still sings? That is enough to make me crawl under my news desk and stay there till the zombies come. The following are just a few news stories that have developed in the past few days;

  I'll Give it a shot

   Police were involved in an altercation at Memorial university last night.  Plain clothes officers, as opposed to those snappy dressed officers, were staking out the parking lot after reports of cars being broken into. Police sat tight until they saw someone smash a window, they were unsure at first because it appeared to be a white ma....ke  of car, but once they were sure, they proceeded on foot to chase him, and he proceeded to almost run them over, and fire shots at them. The suspect managed to escape the scene when Mun campus enforcement asked the officers if they needed backup and the officers doubled over in laughter. Once they were able to compose themselves they chased after the suspect finding the vehicle he had been driving set on fire, witnesses from nearby Buckmaster's Circle were overhead saying "Hey a car on fire, it's not Thursday yet." Despite the further decline of morality in this city two silver linings emerged. The first being that police apprehended the suspect, and the second being that at the moment the shots were fired a track meet was being held inside the field house. One runner hearing the shot sped out to a giant head start and set many new records. Despite the controversy and cries for a rematch, the runner simply said that he would choose not to run.

   Thumbs (broken) up

    Get out your pitchforks and baseball bats everyone it is Roll up the Rim season once again. This year Tim Horton's is trying something new and different and actually remembering to put the hash brown in the bag on drive thru, er I mean they are giving customers two chances to win with a new bonus roll. Because if there is anything that loyal Tim Horton's customers like seeing it's the words please play again not only once, but twice, why they don't just cut out the middle man and rip your heart out at the counter when you order your drink? While it is a way of celebrating their 50th anniversary and a way to say thank you it has led to an undesired result, many Canadians are complaining that the extra rolling has led to their thumbs and hands being locked in a permanent rim rolling position. In a mere two days since the contest began tens of people have complained about their livelihoods being ruined because of lack of thumb mobility. In an exclusive you won't find anywhere else I was able to see one of the angry email from a frightened, seemingly male customer:

  Dear Tim Horton's,

  I have been typing these email for two days because my pinky is the only finger that I am able to move. These new two roll cups have destroyed my life, after drinking 7 cups in a row to try and win the bonus car I was stricken with immobility of my hands and thumbs and the overwhelming urge to urinate. I can't tell you what a bad combination this is, and I will spare you the messy details but long story short you owe me a new pair of shoes. I lost my job because I was not able to work, and the only other work I could find was holding cigars at a cigar store, and the Native American man I took the job from just keeps staring at me with an unrelenting wooden glaze. I have to go now as my pinky is starting to cease up and I haven't eaten in two days because I have been typing, for shame on you Tim Horton's, for shame

 That's entertaining

  In shocking Hollywood news, the director of the new Robocop movie was arrested for murder, as he butchered the classic original movie. In the wake of seeing the new movie, original Robocop Peter Weller actually took his own life so he could turn over his own grave.

  Early Oscar Buzz has breakout hit Wolf of wall street one of the favorites to take home the big prize at this year's awards. It is the story of a ego maniacal drug addicted lout who rises to a position of power. it is Rob Ford's favorite movie. It's main competition is Twelve years a slave which is counting on white person's guilt to push it over the hump.

 Sports shorts

  Denver Colorado are still investigating the mysterious disappearance of the entire Denver Broncos football team during Superbowl weekend. The lead investigator was quoted as saying "I've never seen this many people disappear at once, one or even two is normal but not this large a group." When asked if they were using all their resources, the investigator responded "well of course I'd love to find them, I had five hundred bucks riding on that game."

  In local sports news, there have been rumblings of a new MMA gym opening in the capital city, finally guys with barbed wire and tribal tattoos will have a place to go.

  Game of Thrones weather

  Winter is coming. Sun will make for a fine day but the night will be dark and full of terror

  Well there you have it folks, all the news that is not fit to print. And remember folks, if it's news to you, it's news to me.

The Chicken Hero saga Chapter 12: Two can dine........IN HELL

 
  It had been a quiet few months for the chicken hero. With the Deboner left completely flaccid at his hands, he toiled away at the daily doldrums of the chicken harvest.  During this time, the harvest had seen some new faces, and some returning ones as well. The chicken hero was happy to see the return little Jamieus the magical elf, an often happy go lucky fellow thanks to the help of his magical plant, well some say it was magical, others say it was cursed, for it caused a need to latch on to others at will. Often times when the sun started to sink in the west and the sundial read IV the wenches of the harvest would find themselves in his embrace.  Also there was a new Tylerus, he was taller in stature than the previous Tylerus, and never used his name in sentences. Tylerus as a boy was raised by racoons and adapted their ways, wearing the black mask that they do, and often eating whatever scraps he could find. There were also the old faces still present, ruler of the harvest Petrus the second, who was well loved but ruled with an iron fist, his son Petrus the thrice, who smoked many cigarettes and ruled with an iron lung. There was the brother of the chicken hero Robbieus whose strength was legendary, as legend has it when little Tylerus had to leave for schooling he missed his wagon, so Robbieus picked him up and hurled him to his destination...........he was never seen again.

  Yes, life was quiet at the chicken harvest. Another harvest had opened across the country, and there was another being constructed atop Pearl Mountain, so it was interesting to the hero where the townsfolk would go for their food.  It still amazed him how they came in droves every day, he had been at the harvest for many moons and still did not know why the villagers didn't have their own fire pits. To kill time when not at the harvest, at the request of Jamieus the magical elf, the hero took up a sport called bowling, in which competitors hurled rocks in an attempt to knock sticks over. They comprised a team with the youngest son of Petrus the second, Stevius the Minstrel, and Brendanus the Gronk, whose mighty screams of his "LOOK AT THAT CURVE" could be heard for towns over. Yes, life was quiet, perhaps a little too quiet, the chicken hero always looked over his shoulder, for his epic battles had been known throughout the land. He had heard the rumors of chickens being deboned in other villages, but he was certain that he had vanquished the Deboner, and he would never rise up again.

  Just then he saw a magical bird swoop down into the harvest, it was a messenger pigeon, though this one was darker than most, oh, it was a homie pigeon, he should have known by the needless amount of gold on it's beak and talons.  After dropping the scroll down, and stealing a roll(they often stole rolls) the bird flew off, and the hero rolled down the parchment to read the words, but he was not prepared for the words that he read. The high council of chicken elders had decreed that not only one villager, but two villagers could come in and dine at the harvest for mere schillings, it was like giving away food, something that Bogeyus the Seldom would not approve of. Bogeyus the Seldom was a man of literature and numbers, but he was seldom seen by the boys of the harvest, it was foretold by the ancient chicken prophecy that when the chicken was high, Bogeyus wasn't nigh, but if the chicken was low, Bogeyus would show. Despite that the chicken hero was fond of Bogeyus, for he often helped him, and he admired his undying loyalty to both his sons.

  Petrus the second had heard word that messengers had been sent out to deliver the pieces of paper to the townsfolk, and he urged his men to stop them at all costs, for if the townsfolk got wind of this, there could be a riots in the streets. The hero packed up his thin yet impenetrable chicken string and set out to stop the the messengers, but he feared it was too late, for off in the distance, over the hills came wave after wave of people, the dust rising to the sky resembled the massive fires that Petrus the thrice would have in the fire pit, or the cloud of smoke coming from Jaime the magical elf's wagon. Two by two the people descended on the harvest, waving paper after paper at the serving wenches, poor Marias the ancient(who many moons ago had been hexed with a curse that made her have to say hello to everyone) almost fell over from running to greet and serve everyone. Just then as the hero and his band of men set out on feeding all the ravenous patrons, the hero saw a man off in the distance, smoke was rising off him and he appeared to be floating. "Ah, Jamieus must back from his break" he thought, but Jamieus was in fact next to him.

  The chicken hero ran as fast as he could, but he found that no matter how fast he ran he could not catch up, once he realized he was running the wrong way, he muttered some choice words for the town people for re-organizing the roads and went off into the right direction. As he neared where he had saw the strange man, he rubbed his eyes, for he could not believe it, the man was actually floating, this was not the work Jamieus the magical elf's special plant, this went beyond anything he had seen. Before the hero could speak he was cut off "Now listen, I am King Cluck, lord of the underworld......and the dance. For centuries I have watched as your people have devoured my minions, and come back for no more. Well I say it stops today, it was I who sent those papers around, it was I who will swoop in and take the souls of your townsfolk, and they will be too full and tired to do anything about it." The hero stood confused, he hadn't even asked what his evil scheme was, what was about him that made villains divulge their evil schemes? Was it because he had a trusting face? He would never know.

  Regaining his focus, the hero screamed "You want those people, you will have to go through me!" Just then King Cluck floated right on through him, the hero was taken aback at the very literal answer to his threat, he had been shown up, nobody ever showed him up before, had he just been violated? cause it felt like he was just violated. He had no time to wall as just then two flaming chickens started kicking their way towards him. "It's time to turn up the heat with my kickin chickens, feel their wrath." The hero was trapped, these chickens were mean, and they smelled delicious, but he knew he had to eliminate them, rolling out his trusty chicken string he bobbed and weaved, jumped and dove, tying them in such a way they were now kicking each other. "Impressive" said King Cluck "but you will not be the Victor this day."

 "My name is not Victor, it's the chicken hero" and with that he charged, but as he did the ground started to open up in places. What King Cluck didn't know was that he been used to the holes in the ground at the chicken harvest and new how to dodge, with a mighty leap the hero jumped and wrapped his trusty chicken string all around the evil king, that is he would have, had the King not vanished like a tray of baked desserts around the serving wenches. Suddenly a voice filled the air "You win this round hero, but mark my words, you haven't seen the last of me!" And the chicken hero knew this to be true,  for he had forgotten his cape.

  Returning to the harvest, the hero placed the cape into the lost and found strongbox, as he sat to relax he caught a whiff of the strangest smell, it appeared to be sulfur but he wasn't sure. The hero asked Christoph the dish ogre which way the wind was blowing, he replied "Southwest, huh huh huh" and walked away, Christoph was a man of few words indeed. The hero looked at the western skies and they were black, like Kennyus' the cook's wings were black, and it was then he knew the quiet was shattered, and harvest would not be at peace for very long more.

The self destruction of Frank Martin

   Ohhh a triathlon, that should be fun.


  That was it, that was the sentence that turned my life upside down. Before we get to that let's rewind to last year, it all started with the mid season finale of Breaking Bad. Yes, that's right Walter White you get the blame for ruining yet another life. After the episode aired it dawned on me that there were only eight episodes left, and when they were finished I would have a hole in the lump of coal that is my heart. How would I survive? I needed to find something, anything to do, I needed a hobby, my god I needed to go outside. Perhaps I could fill the void left by Heisenberg and start manufacturing crystal meth myself, but then I remembered my chemistry experiment back in grade eleven, sure I blew up the lab but on the bright side all our classes were outside for the rest of the year.  Perhaps I could develop a crystal meth addiction, but that would be impossible as I usually freak out after eating a whole pack of pop rocks. With a life in the drug business out of the question I set out for something, anything I could do.

  As a child I always had big dreams, one doctor told me it seemed as if I had stars in my eyes. Another, better, doctor told me it was actually styes in my eyes and prescribed some eye drops. I had heard about this triathlon a few weeks back, and I thought to myself "I can do this, or at least I can cheat enough to make a passable effort." I trained whenever I could, sometimes I ran places instead of taking a car, which since I can't drive is the safest bet anyway. I ran everywhere, in the words of esteemed war veteran and marathon runner Forrest Gump "I just kept on running." It seemed I was always running from someone, from something. I thought maybe if I kept up running I could stay out of trouble, for a few minutes anyway. In the days preceding the the triathlon I felt that my stamina was finally where it needed to be to compete, dare I say win the thing, but as always nothing is ever that simple. These days it seems that trouble can find me anywhere and everywhere.

 Have you ever had a day where you felt like a left handed person? No not a freak, but you can't do anything right. The day of the race got off to a bad start when I missed the bus to the start line. Here I was outside my house, wondering how I was gonna get to my destination, I asked myself WWWWD(What would Walter White Do?) I was desperate, I needed to do this race, I needed to prove myself, I needed to steal er I mean borrow a car. I guess I didn't need to stea......borrow the car but there was one right there and why the hell not, it was time to live a little. After getting the car started, I was on my way, I knew the race was starting soon, with no time to spare I disobeyed all traffic laws, which is quite easy when you actually don't know the traffic laws. Something happened to me when I stole that car, a little piece of me died, and it seemed like the harder I tried to get to this race, the more I died, over and over, till all I could do was start over.

 With karma being the female dog that she is, the car that I had borrowed began to get very low on gas. I knew I wouldn't have enough to make it to the race so finding the nearest gas station I could I pulled in to fill up and get on my way. Now this next part may be too graphic, and there may be kids reading so I am going to make this as PG as possible. When I went to pay for the gas I realized I had left my wallet home, so being in a bind I had no choice, I had to pull out my.....ahem...puppy rifle and take the gas. The African American man behind that counter was caught by surprise, I think mostly cause this time he was not the robber but the robbee(PG racism). He pulled out his sawed off cat gun and went to fire at me, but I was faster and launched two puppies in his chest. As I fled the gas station, something came alive in me. For the first time in a long time I had stars in my eyes, not styes this time, actual stars. I fled as fast I could, but glory was fleeting, soon the stars were gone and everything was quiet again. The triathlon was about to start, I had to get there.

 I was getting closer, I could see the start line, people weren't running yet, phew I thought, I was going to make it. I swear I don't know where that person came from, I didn't see them till it was too late, until they went barreling over my car, I had no time to check, it was proving ground time, the start line was near, but the sound or sirens was also near. Some stooge had phoned the police, begrudgingly I had to drive past the start line, there was too much heat, I couldn't slow down, but I couldn't let them stop me from reaching my goals. With me refusing to pull over they took drastic measures, they started firing. sticking my head out the window there were bull......puppies whizzing past my head, I knew I couldn't run anymore so I stopped the car, walking into a hail of puppies I decided to go down in a blaze of glory, puppies rained down from the sky like it was Armageddon. I took out many of them but I caught a few puppies myself and my life flashed before my eyes. Luckily miracle doctors were able to fix me up, and after a small bribe I was able to flee scott free, yep that would be my new identity.

 Mine is a cautionary tale, people often ask me if I could do it over would I try another way, find another mission in life. Perhaps what I need is to find less stressful hobbies, maybe take up golf or tennis, or darts.  Those are all good hobbies, but where's the excitement really? Being idle often leads to trouble. I guess if I could do anything different, I would try and help the many people I refused to help before, try and meet new people, every new person is a question mark just waiting to be answered and see what they have to offer. Is redemption possible for me? Can I be a good person again? I feel like I could be, if only I could try harder..........if only I knew the right path...

If only.............I could stop playing Grand Theft Auto.

The convoluted backstory of El Franco Magnifico

   El Franco Magnifico was born into hard times.  His birth was a typical Mexican affair, upon his arrival into this world he was immediately wrapped in a warm blanket and a luchador mask.  He was born to loving parents, father Pepe, and mother Salte, he was the youngest in his family. Now being the youngest child certainly has its advantages, but when you are the youngest of 17 kids you tend to get lost in the shuffle.  As the 17 kids suggests, Salte and Pepe loved each other dearly from the moment they met, it was a quick courtship before the birth of their first child Juan, then along came the second child Two.  As the years passed more kids filled up the rapidly cramped home, there was Jose and JosB, Rosita, Margarita, Pablo, Marco................Polo, Debbie, their 11th child Juan Juan, Hernando, Fernando, Consuela, Dora, Hugo, and then there was little Franco.  Franco always joked that they saved the best for last and that is why they never had any kids after him, he would learn years later it was because Pepe and gotten an instant vasectomy at the hands, or should I say hind legs, of a disgruntled donkey.

  Space was limited in the tiny home, but Salte and Pepe made sure that all their kids had places to sleep, with all the beds and floor taken it was a struggle to find a spot for little Franco, but then a light bulb went off over the head of Pepe. While changing the light bulb Pepe noticed an old pinata was hanging over the ceiling, this was it, this was where Franco would sleep, Franco would later credit all the times being woken to his siblings beating him with sticks in hope for candy as a leading factor in his toughness. It was hard to form attachments to the rest of his siblings, maybe it was because the whole family wore masks, or maybe it was his Mexican nature to not want to work hard enough to introduce himself to everyone, he just found himself different from the others. He loved his parents, good hard working people, his father was a discount sombrero and poncho salesman, his scream of OHHHH PONCHO became so famous a foreign man used it as part of a television show, but Pepe never saw any money from it.

  Franco could tell times were hard so he didn't mind having to wear hand me down clothes or playing with hand me down toys (just don't give him no hand me down world, he had one already). He pretended to be surprised every Christmas when he received a "new" toy, the same "new" toy he had seen his brother's Jose and JosB playing with the week previous. He also received many new hats, although usually the hat he got for Christmas was too big, I mean it was nice but his sombrero was too big, leading to a scary stint in the hospital after receiving pneumonia when he fell three times in a river.  Falling in the river not only made him sick, it also lead to a fear of water, which was a detriment to his father Pepe's plan to take his family and leave Mexico to enter the United States. Obviously they did not have the money to buy every seat on the plane so Pepe and the older boys spent all their spare time building a house raft to try and take them to the promise land.

  Franco was opposed to the travel, he liked his life and his house, well the part of the house that wasn't used to build the raft. Franco would later credit having to jump up the stairs because certain steps were now part of the raft as a factor in his strong leaping ability. He often asked his papa Pepe why they had to leave, and Pepe would explain to him how America was a wonderful place, people there loved oranges, they even welcomed you by shooting in the guns in the air and yelling in celebration.  Franco was unsure but he could swore he often heard his papa mumble something about finding the makers of a television show and killing them, but he could never be certain. After weeks of anticipation the big day came and the family arrived to the river which would take them to their new life, all except Franco who froze on the shore, remembering the time he froze in the river. Despite the screams of his mother and father and siblings Franco did not sail that day, he ran, and he kept running as far from the river as he could, back to his home, back into his pinata bed, and with no sticks to beat him he slept for a day and half.

 Franco wondered what his next step in life would be, he was young and had to fend for himself.  How would he support himself? Maybe he could be a magician, like most Mexicans he was good at making things disappear, not just wallets, but actual magic trick like things.  While walking the streets of the local town one night he saw a group of kids running towards him, getting ready to flee but seeing no Police around he wondered what the commotion could be, it was then he saw the kids surrounding a hulk of a man, his muscles had muscles and the shiny belt around his waist was very cool.  He went up to the man and asked him who he had stolen that belt off, to which the man replied "Mil Mascaras, he wants a rematch but he will lose that too." It was then Franco figured it that he was a luchador, a Mexican wrestler, and suddenly he knew what his calling was.

 Franco knew what he wanted, and he started to train, he wanted muscles on top of muscles and he wanted that shiny belt, after weeks of pushing himself to the limit(and standing on the razor's edge) he knew he was ready.  He had the look, he had the mask, all he needed was a name, it needed to be flashy, it need to be catchy, it needed be quick cause his first match was in 5 minutes, just then a fellow luchador complimented his mask, saying it was magnificent, and then a light bulb went off over his head, he quickly changed the bulb and thus El Franco Magnifico was born.  After winning his first match, a hard fought battle, he couldn't help but wonder how his family was doing, he had hoped they were doing as well as he was.  As the months went by he wrestled as often as he could, steadily climbing the ranks until it was time for the big match, against the man he had met months prior, the man who inspired him to become a luchador.

 He trained harder then he ever had before, when he got to the arena he was ready, he was confident, he was.............scared, for he was not prepared for what he saw when he got there.  The ring was surrounded by a swimming pool, it turns out the champ had discovered his fear and asked for the ring to be placed over the water.  The roar of the raucous crowd was drowned out by the knocking of his knees, he was frozen in the corner like he was almost frozen years ago, and as the bell rang the champ took advantage. Most of the match was a brutal one sided affair, everyone in the crowd was concerned, not for the fact that a middle aged man beating up a kid who was no more then 15 was illegal but because they weren't getting their money's worth. They started to boo, and his and throw things. El Franco Magnifico knew he was in trouble, he looked at the crowd, expecting to be hit with another projectile, but what he was hit with was the image of his sainted mother and father.

   They had come to watch his big match, after seeing this he blocked everything out and fought back.  He beat the champion from pillar to post, staggering him and finally knocking the hulking beast of a man down.  With his opponent weakened he climbed the top rope and jumped like he had never jumped before, falling as fast as he did when his siblings busted open his pinata bed he crashed onto his opponent and became the new Mexican heavyweight championship.  Caught up in his celebration and the admiration of the fans he fell into the water, but the fear was gone, and he swam, and he swam some more until he reached his parents, his father gave him that big familiar smile and placed a new sombrero on his head, it was still too big but he did not care.

 El Franco would go on to have a storied career, he was idolized by kids everywhere and statues were built in his honor, he retired into a secluded life and has not been heard from since, legend has it he was the voice of the Taco Bell dog but it was never confirmed. He kept in touch with his family when he could, and was there when they needed help,such as his sister Consuela the maid who had a lemon pledge addiction. His sister Dora would later become an explorer, his brother Hugo would win the lottery but leave on a trip to Australia and never be heard from for years, muttering on and on about some island. His mother and father would design their own line of spice dispensers, and even long after their death Salte and Pepe would be on the tables of people all over the world.

  ***No Mexicans were harmed in the making of this story............a lot were offended, but none were harmed****