Golden Guys and Bears

   Note from Owen Tucker:  Remember that disclaimer from last time?  About the violence and all that good junk?  You did?  Oh good.  Now I don’t have to repeat myself and can get right down to business.

   “Hey, that’s not nice!” I yelled down the stairs. “My foot is very relevant.”
   “Obliteration commencing.”
   With that, the sound of marching feet filled the air. Dan tugged on my arm. 
   “What is happening?” he asked.
    I shrugged. “I really ain’t got a clue.  Somebody wants to obliterate some stuff, though.”
   The marching got closer.  I looked down the stairs and saw what was causing it.  It was an army of robotic men.  Golden, robotic men.  That had to be the weirdest color choice. 
   I raised my hand that had Dave on it. “All right, fellows, you’d all best stop, right there, or it won’t be pretty.”
   One of the robots who appeared to be in the lead pointed to my hand. “Target acquired.”
   “What?  My hand?  What do you want with my hand?”
   “Hand, irrelevant.  The Sword, relevant.”
   “What the heck is the Sword?”
   Hmphhphfyupf!
   “Okay fine.  Poncho, let Dave talk.”
   Ah.  Now, for your education, I am the Sword.
   “No.  You’re a ring.”
   Don’t you remember anything?  When you found me, I was a sword.  Because that is how I am known.
   “Okay, sure.  You’re a sword.  Now will you please be helpful and blast these guys?”
   I can’t.  They are—
   “I don’t want to hear your lame excuses right now!  We’re in trouble.  So be quite and FIRE!”
   A wall of flame burst forth from my hand and swept down the stairs, engulfing the gold robots, obscuring them from view.  When the smoke cleared, though, they were still marching up to us, without a single singe on them. 
   “What just happened?”
   What I was trying to tell you.  Gold is impervious to magic.
   “Well that’s just brilliant.”
    The golden robots were getting closer.  I started backing up.
   “Well,” I said. “Anyone got any bright ideas?”
   “Just this one,” Ben replied.
   He lumbered forward and threw himself down the stairs.  He rolled down, smashing into the robots like a bowling ball, knocking them every which way.
   “Strike!” I yelled.
   Then he reached the bottom of the stairs and his momentum failed.  He got up and started swinging his paws every which way, but the robots seemed endless.  They simply engulfed him, then carried on their march back up the stairs.
   “Benjamin!”
   There was no answer.  Nothing but the sound of marching.
   “Coom on, laddie,” Wilfred said in my ear. “We ‘ave tae go.  Ben’s geven us our chance.”
   A tear leaked out of my ear as I turned away.
   “This isn’t over!” I yelled over my shoulder.
   I ran down the hallway, the kids and Dan followed right behind me.  I picked a random door, opened it, and went in.  Dan was the last one in, and he shut the door behind him with a bang.  Only then did I take a good look around, and realize that this might not have been the best door.
   We were in the middle of a huge, far as the eye could see, desert.

Life, Death, Cake

   So.  Life.
   Man, do I really have to talk about that?  It just seems so…serious.  And boring.  And serious.  And not fun.  And serious.  And really boring.  Do you get what I’m trying to say here?  Come on.  What is life?  That stage of living after the glorious days of carefree childhood, that’s what.  You “grow up”, get a life (aka, job/career/thingthatbringsinthechaching), get married, have kids, watch as those kids repeat all the stupid mistakes you made at their age, grow old, and die.  If you’re one of those people who aren’t for the marriage bit, here’s what your life is.  Same “grow up” phase, then you substitute everything else for partying till you pass out, and still end with dying, except in your case it’s by drunk driver (aka, yourself).
   Bam!  Life in a nutshell.  And you are totally free to disagree with me.  I do it all the time.  I probably wouldn’t be alive right now, writing this post, if I agreed with myself.  Because if that was the case, any time a stupid idea occurred to me, I would put it into action post haste.  Which is why disagreeing with myself is the healthiest thing I can do.  I suggest you make a habit out of it too.  If you want to live long enough to go through that whole life cycle thing.  Of course, if you don’t want that, then by all means, have your dissent free mind.  Your gravestone will read “His decisions were unanimous to his dying breath”.  I’ll bring some flowers for decoration.  And cake.  Black icing, of course.
   Because, for those of you who did not know, cake has restorative powers.  Oh no, nothing strong enough to raise the dead.  But it does wonders for the mourners.  Kind of perks them up and shows them that, even on the darkest day, there is a ray of sunshine.  It’s just a matter of finding it.  Or, if you have a flashlight, you could just turn that on.  It would probably be easier.  You also might want to consider an umbrella.  Those are always handy.  Good for scaring superstitious people too.
   My, isn’t this a strange post?  Life, death, and the mocking thereof.  Next thing you know, I’ll be harping on political issues.  Ha!  That’ll be the day.  Politics.  A very wise old man once had something to say about politics.  Bah!  And Humbug!  Yes, he did say that about Christmas too, but remember, he was a very old man (and wise).  I’m sure that at some point in his long and miserly life he said that about politics.  In fact, he probably said it about pretty much everything. 
   But hey, the Christmas season is fast approaching.  I’m sure I’ll have plenty to say on it as it comes steadily nearer, and quite likely some stuff after it’s gone.  Just remember, tis the season to be jolly, yo ho ho and a bottle o’ rum, and all that.
   Good golly, am I still here?  I thought I would be gone by now.  I must have disagreed with myself somewhere along the way and blown a hole in the space-time continuum.  I have no idea how that relates, but somehow it always does.  That darn continuum.  Why couldn’t it make itself out of some unbreakable material?  Then we wouldn’t have these constant problems with destructive fools, and mad men in boxes, always breaking through. 
   And then the world would be that much more boring.  So, basically, forget I ever wrote that last paragraph and go on with your lives as if nothing ever happened.  Good day.

Silence, Picnics, Irrelevant

   Note from Owen Tucker:   Whoa!  Okay.  Getting a bit violent there, eh?  I guess I should put up a disclaimer.  Ehem.
   IF YOU ARE FAINT OF HEART, TAKE CAUTION IN READING THESE HIGHLY VIOLENT AND BLOODY STORIES.
   There.  That oughta do it.  On with the violently bloody (not to mention deadly suspenseful) story telling!  Oh boy!

   Very well.  You’ve forced my hand.  I’ll tell you everything.
   There followed several minutes of silence.
   “Well?” I asked, finally.
   Oh.  You mean you want me to tell you now?
   I rolled my eyes. “Duh.”
   All right then.  The League was taking me to become the One Ring.
   Stop lying, Dave.  I’m the One Ring.  Didn’t you hear how Dan took me from that slimy Gollum creature?
   Go die in a hole, Poncho.
   No can do.  I’m having far too much fun foiling you.
   I glared at Dave, then Poncho. “Did you guys not hear what I said earlier?”
   About icy?
   “No.”
   About imbeciles?
   “No!”
   About the life expectancies of vampires?
   “NO!  Wait…what?”
   Nothing.
   “Okay, that’s it!  Dave, do that cool shutting move on Poncho.”
   It’s my pleasure.
   Himph.  Harumph?  MPH!
   I looked over at Dan. “You’re not just going to let him do that, are you?”
   Dan looked indignant. “Of course not!  There shall be just retribution!  Er, what would you suggest, good sir?”
   I shrugged. “Oh, I dunno.  Maybe have Poncho do the same thing to Dave?”
   Dan’s face brightened like a light bulb. “Brilliant idea!”
   Hold on a second.
   Dan flourished his ring hand. “Poncho, arrows away!”
   Hmph.  Uhp ef merf.
   Hehrumph!
   I smiled. “There we go.  That’s much better, don’t you guys think?”
   If they had eyes, I’m sure they both would have been shooting daggers at me. 
   “So,” I turned to survey everyone. “We’ve got a league of ninja fellows after us.  What do you guys want to do?”
   “Picnic!” Fredrick and Elizabeth yelled.
   “We’re being hunted by elite killing dudes, if the rings are to be believed, and you guys want to chill out and have a picnic?”
   They nodded, huge grins on their faces.
   I looked at Ben and, hopefully, Wilfred. “What do you guys think?”
   Ben licked his paw. “A picnic does sound marvelous.”
   “Ah cauld go fa sem victuals mahself.  Ah’m famished.”
   Last, but not least, I turned to Dan. “And you, sir?  How does a picnic sound to you?”
   “Most scrumptious indeed,” he replied.
   I shrugged. “Well then, I guess we’re going on a picnic.”
   The kids cheered and everyone followed me as I went to the staircase that led up to where I had found Dave.  I stepped inside, wished for a picnic basket that was bigger on the inside and full of good picnicking junk, and stepped back out with said basket in hand.
   “All right,” I said. “Where do y’all wanna go for this picnic?”
   Before anyone could answer, there was a loud bang as the front door was thrown open and the sound of marching feet filled the air.  I gave the basket to Dan and went to the top of the winding staircase that led to the first floor.
   “Go away!” I yelled down it. “We’re going on a picnic and you are not invited!”
   A really mechanical sounding voice replied. “Picnic….irrelevant.  Surrender the ring, or die.”
   “Surrender my foot!”
   “Foot…irrelevant.  Commence obliteration.”

   To be continued…

Texas State Fair and the Killdares

   Hi guys.  It’s me again, John Smith.
   The Texas State Fair is in town, folks (if you live ‘round here that is), in case you weren’t aware of that fact.  I sauntered on over there yesterday and had me a right good time.  Be warned though, before you go—if you haven’t already gone—there has been a major change.  You know those tasty fruit ice cream-like things they call Chills?  Well, I’m afraid that I must inform you that…they changed the name!  They’re calling them Freezes now.  Really?  Freezes?  The change makes absolutely no sense, because they are definitely not frozen.  But they are chilled.  Hence the previous name, Chills.  But it’s okay.  It’ll be all right.  They still taste good.
   Speaking of tasty food, check out them curly fries!  There was this new place (yeah, that’s right, something else new) and they were serving up, and I quote the menu “Mountain of Curly Fries”.  And when these people use the term mountain, they use it literally.  I mean, it was like they threw the potatoes into the fryer, cooked ‘em up, and when they were ready, just dumped the fryer full onto a plate and handed it out.  It was an insanely massive amount of fries.  And they were good too.  What more could a guy ask for?
   Maybe a good ol’ fashioned parade, eh what?  You’re never too old to enjoy watching the colorfully arrayed people and floats as they pass by.  It doesn’t hurt that you get some pretty nice music in the process.  Then there’s the tromp over to the fountain area for a bit of dazzling effects with a mixture of light, flame, and water.  This year I particularly enjoyed the part with Adele’s Set Fire to the Rain. I don’t think the fair would be quite complete without the parade and light show to finish it off. 
   This time around, though, the fair was a lot better than usual.  Why?  Because the Killdares were there, that’s why!  Yeah, they are there every year, but I only discovered this fact at the fair last year.  And so I spent the duration of the rest that year figuring out just how awesome they are.  And they’re pretty freakin’ awesome.  As a Celtic rock band, there aren’t many out there like them, if any at all.  But you can’t really go wrong with the drums, bass, electric guitar, fiddle, and bagpipes. That medley of instruments gives them an amazing sound that I haven’t found anywhere else.  When you hear the drums, bass, and electric, you think, “Hhmm, these guys sound like a pretty sweet rock band.”  Then in comes the fiddle and that changes to, “Man, that fiddle really takes it to another level.”  Kapowy!  Enter the bagpipes. “Dude.  This is freakin’ epic!”
   So yeah, I think it’s safe to say that the Killdares were the highlight of the fair for me.  Because not only do these guys play awesome music, but they’re really cool up close and personal.  After their shows I hung around and got to talk with them.  They autographed my CDs, and!  Best of all, played my favorite song for me, Gone West.  They are some seriously awesome guys (and gal!  Roberta Rast, you’re awesome!).  I’m already excited for next year’s fair.

Dave!

   Note from Owen Tucker:  Things are about to get going around here.  So hold onto your socks.  Or whatever piece of clothing you feel like holding onto at the moment.

   The first adventure of our daring assembly began as soon as we set foot back into Howard.  Arrayed around the doorway to greet us were a whole bunch of scary looking dudes all dressed in black.  I stopped dead and gaped at them as soon as I saw then, but Dan, who came in right behind, let out a yell and jumped right into the middle of them.  Let’s just say things escalated from there.
   Bangs!  Booms!  Explosions!  Mini Hiroshima’s all over the place!  Ben flew out from somewhere and landed on about ten of the guys.  The kids were beating a couple of the other ones with coconuts.  Wilfred was, well, I’m sure he was doing something. 
   Then there was this extra big balooy and Howard flipped.  Literally.  The house went upside down and turned the whole thing into a zero-gravity Inception-hotel-fight-scene.  That didn’t faze the battling one single bit.  They all just went right on laying into each other.  And I floated serenely through it all.  Until I got bored.  Which was after about five seconds.
   “Hey, Dave,” I said.
   Yes?
   “When were you planning on ending this?”
   I’m only waiting for you to give me the word.
   “Oh, well, in that case.  Word.”
   At that, there was a really, really, really, really bright flash of light. It was pretty doggone bright, let me tell you.  And when it faded, Howard was right side up, and the fighting was over.  Because all the dudes in black were unconscious on the floor.
   Show off.
   Thank you.
   Dan gave himself a shake, which thoroughly rattled his armor. “That was a most enjoyable little tussle.”
   Ben yawned and sat on his haunches. “I rather agree with the strange gent.”
   “I’m glad you all enjoyed,” I said. “But do any of you know who they were?”
   I was met with blank stares.
   That, Mr. Owen, was the League of Ninjas.  Just their scouts, though.  The very least experienced.
   You talk far too much, Poncho.
   The very fact that you think so, Dave, makes me think the very opposite.
    “All right, all right.  Break it up.  I’ve had enough of you two arguing, gosh.  Just tell me why this League is after me already.”
   Isn’t it obvious?  They want me.
   “You?  Really?  You are freakin’ annoying, why would anyone actually send forces after you?”
   Because I was the height of the League.  When they created me, none could stand against them.
   Ha!  Likely story.  All the good guys had to do was create me, and I whooped your butt in a heartbeat.
   Only because I was wielded by an imbecile!
   And times have changed how?
   “Hey!”
   No offense.
   “I think I’ll take offense, thank you very much.”
   You’re welcome.  But the point is, so long as I’m here, the League ain’t got nuthin’ that can do anything.
   “Is that right, Dave?”
   Hm?  Oh, yes, of course.  If it helps you sleep at night.
   “Dave!”
   You can’t expect me to betray the secrets of my creators, can you?
   “Yes, actually.  That’s exactly what I expect you to do.”
   You’re a cold boy, Owen.
   “Just icy.  Now get talking.”

   To be continued.

Zachary Langferd

   So, uh, hi?  I’m Zachary Langferd, and I guess I’m your host for today.  I have no idea how this happened, or why I’m even here, but here I am all the same, so I’m afraid you’ll have to suffer through it.  Unless you don’t.  That’s always an option too.  You could just change pages right now and go check facebook or something.  But I’ll try not to bore you to that extent.  I’m not saying I’ll be successful in that endeavor, just that I’ll try.
   Okay, right, blog post.  I was told nothing about this, you know, until just now.  They were all like, “oh hey, Zachary!  Write this post!”  And here I am.  With absolutely no idea as to what it is I’m doing.  I think someone said I should talk about myself.  That seemed kind of egotistical to me.  At the time.  Now it’s actually starting to sound pretty good.
   All right, I convinced myself to talk about myself.  The only thing you really need to know about me, though, is that I have these cool magical powers.  Yeah, I know what you’re thinking, unbelievable, right?  But I’m serious.  I can make things happen just by thinking about it.  It’s pretty awesome.  There’s whole books written about the junk I do.  Somewhere.  I think you have to talk to that one dude about it.  I’m pretty sure his name was Michael.  Not positive, but pretty sure.  From what I gather, he’s kind of the agent around here, dealing with all our stuff.  Strange sort of fellow, I thought.  Always saying and/or doing weird things at weird times. 
   Anyway, now that I’ve finished that very long and in depth talk about myself, I’m going to move on before I become too self-conscious.  I don’t know where I’m going, though.  I told those guys when they threw this at me that I wouldn’t know what to say, and I was absolutely correct, as you can see.  If I was like John I could just talk about a rock for the rest of the time.  But I can’t think of anything interesting about a rock.  I mean, you throw it, it goes up, then it comes back down.  Pretty simple and boring stuff there.  I guess that means John is simple and boring.  Poor guy.  Don’t tell him.
   Hey!  I thought of something I can talk about.  College.  Yup, that’s it.  Am I the only one that doesn’t get it?  I mean come on.  Why would you pay tens of thousands of dollars to do even more school?  I thought everyone was just screaming to finish their graduate year and be free.  Then they decide they want to go to college so they can go through another four years?  Only this time they’re going to pay for it?  And I’m not saying this because I’m a genius or anything.  It’s not my fault that my high school classes were college level.  They were high school to me.  The perks of being brilliant.  You should try it sometime.  Oh wait…you can’t.  Oops, my bad.  Sorry pal.  Geniuses just aren’t a dime a dozen.  We’re like pearls among a sea of rubble.  No offense to any rubble out there.  Just sayin’ it as it is.  Giving the ol’ ego a good back scratch, y’know.  It’s good to do that every now and then.  Keeps the self esteem high. 
   Okay, that’s it.  I’m done rambling on in a brilliantly stupid way.  It’s been more than enough for me.  This is Zachary Langferd, signing off.  And you’ll be lucky if you ever hear from me again.

Poncho and Dave

   Note from Owen Tucker:  Pft, John Smith.  Pft, super name.  Really?  I mean come on, all the guy did after bragging on his name was talk about rocks.  How boring is that? 
   Anyway, let’s get down to business.

   “Whoa whoa whoa,” I said. “You know this guy, Dave?”
   The gold ring (referred to as Poncho) flashed. Dave?  Really?  That’s what you’re calling yourself these days?
   You’re one to talk, Poncho, Dave retorted.
   Poncho’s are cool.
   Sure they are.  Just keep telling yourself that.
   “Hey, break it up,” I interjected. “How do you two know each other?”
   He was created to combat me, Dave said.
   No, actually, he was created to combat me, Poncho clarified.
   Stop trying to deceive yourself.  It is a well known fact that the League created me first, which made your pathetic creators panic and bring you into existence.
   Ha!  That’s a lie you tell yourself so you can keep what little self-respect you have.
   “Hold it!  What League are we talking about here?”
   The League of Ninjas, of course.  Do you know of any other?
   “What the heck is the League of Ninjas?”
   It’s a league.  Of ninjas.  I find the name very self-explanatory.
   “And this league created Dave?”
   Yes, of course.  How do you not know this?   I shrugged. “I dunno.  I just found Dave in a rock and tugged him out.  Didn’t see any ‘Property of the League of Ninja” tags anywhere.”
   The fact that he chanted “use me for evil” over and over didn’t tell you something was strange about him?
   “How’d you know he did that?”
   He always does that.  A glitch in his creation.  At least, for his sake, I hope it’s a glitch.   Shut up, Poncho, you always did talk too much.
   What’s the matter, Davey?  Am I revealing all your secrets?
   Owen, I think we should leave now.  Before there is any bloodshed.
   “No way!  I like this Poncho dude.” I looked to the armored guy, who was standing there with a goofy grin on his face. “Where’d you find your ring?”
   He cleared his throat. “Ahrumph.  I twas wandering upon journeys which I sometimes wander upon when lo and behold!  I wandered upon Poncho here, lying lonely in a cavern, lost.  I took him and put him upon my finger, and having defeated the slimy beast that guarded the cavern, I emerged out into the daylight, triumphant and with the prize.”  He held up his hand with the ring. “Most beautiful, is it not?  And enormously powerful too.”
   My foot, Dave said.
   You’re just jealous, Poncho replied.
   You always did have a backward view of everything.
   “Just shut it, you two,” I said. “We all know you hate each other’s guts, so if you’ve got to keep on hating, keep it to ringish glares, or whatever you rings do.”
   If you insist.
   “Thank you.  Now, Dan, what exactly are you doing here?”
   Dan shrugged. “I am, at this moment, simply wandering the world, seeking the adventures fit to one of my skills, daring, and chivalry.”
   “Sounds cool,” I said, somewhat thoughtfully. “You know, we get pretty good amount of adventures in this here group.  What do you think about joining our ranks?”
   Oh no, that is a very bad idea.   Why’s that, Davey?  Afraid I’ll show everyone how lame you really are?   On second thought, bring them along.  We’ll settle this.
   I’ll make sure you get a lovely gravestone, old boy.
   I cleared my throat. “So, Dan, now that those two have finished arguing over things which they have no control, will you join our merry band?”
   Dan glanced around at our group and a grin spread over his face. “Of course, good sir!  Let the adventures of this daring assembly begin in earnest!”

   To be continued…

John Smith and a Rock

   Welcome back to the intelligent portion of your weekly entertainment.  Today, I, John Smith, shall be your host. 
   Before I go any further in this post, let me clarify something.  John Smith really is an epically awesome name.  Most people would probably think “Aw, poor kid, stuck with a name like John Smith, must get teased a lot”.  But they have it all wrong.  With a name like that, that “poor kid” would be the one doing all the teasing.  For example, a conversation between two kids.
   Timmy:  “Hey there!  I’m Timmy.  What’s your name?”
   John: “John Smith.”
   Timmy: “Haha.  Okay, don’t tell me your name then.”
   John: “All right, I won’t.”
   Timmy: “…”
   John: “…”
   Timmy: “Your name isn’t really John Smith, is it?”
   John:  “Yup, sure is.  I’m undercover.”
   Timmy:  “Ooohhh!  I gotcha now.”
   Teacher: “John Smith to the front!”
   John to Timmy: “See?  I got everyone fooled.”
   Timmy: “Dude, that’s awesome.”

   See?  Awesome.  When I have a kid, his first name is gonna be John and his middle one is gonna be Smith.  You don’t need to know the last name because he’ll never use it anyway.  He’ll just be all like “The name’s John.  John Smith.”  and be totally untraceable!
   So now you know the reason behind the name.  I am John Smith.  John Smith is me.  And you’ll never really know who John Smith is. 
   Therefore I feel it fitting that the topic of the day’s post be something about anonymity.  Take, for instance, a rock.  Such a common, everyday sort of thing.  We see them all over the place.  What is the world, after all, but a big rock?  We take a rock, and we look at it, and we perceive, well, if we’re normal we will probably perceive nothing at all.  The rock will look like any other old rock.  Kind of, rockish.  However!  If we take another rock and compare the two, we will no doubt perceive the same amount of nothing that we did before.  Rocks that you get from the same place generally look like each other, because the general rule is that if the rocks are in the same place, they probably came from the same source.  This, of course, is not set in stone.  There are exceptions.  Such as when some crazy person takes a rock from its source and chucks it someplace else.  Then that rock may well be next to another rock that looks nothing like it.
   But this is immaterial in the long run.  The fact is that normal rocks, the ones we encounter on a daily basis, all look the same.  We cannot tell this rock from that rock unless we study those rocks with an amount of dedication that would be pointless in the end.  Because really, what’s being able to tell two rocks apart gonna do for you?  Not much at all, my friend, not much at all. 
   To come to the point of this (there was a point, right?), rocks are hard to tell apart.  So if one rock has a grudge against another rock, the rock with the grudge has no way to find the other rock.  It can entertain its grudge as long as it wants, but it’ll never be able to do anything with it.  Thus, rocks should not hold grudges.  And John Smith is a rock solid name.
   Till next time, I bid ye a fond farewell.

Old Friends

   Note from Owen Tucker:
   Protocol 2: Do not listen to Michael. 
   Protocol 3: Do not listen to John Smith.
   Protocol 4: Do not listen to Zachary Langferd.
   Protocol 5: Do not listen to Tanner Erring.
   There.  Those about cover everything I have to say about that.  Now to my story, which I assure you is completely true to life and not fictional in any way.  Humph.  Calls himself “John Smith” and thinks he can talk about fictionality in my posts.  Bounder.
   Oh, and don’t forget Protocol 1.

   I looked at the strange weapon skeptically. “Oh really?  What’s that supposed to be, anyway?”
   Bob flourished the gun with pride. “It anti-magic weapon!  Drains both magic and life at once!”
   I laughed, which kind of hurt him emotionally, I think, because he got a real mad look on his face and leveled the gun at my chest.
   “Why you laugh?” he asked. “Death no funny!”
   I chuckled. “Yeah, but why drain the life and magic?  I mean, if you’re draining life, obviously the magic goes with it.”
   He waved a dismissive hand. “Whatever.  More satisfaction this way.”
   “Oh.  I didn’t think you were the sadistic type, Bob.”
   He grinned and shrugged. “You ready to die?”
   I returned the shrug. “No, not really.  Because, you see, I could always have Dave just crush the gun before you even pull the trigger.”
   “Not if I pull right away!”
   And he pulled the trigger. A beam shot out of the muzzle and illuminated my chest with golden light.  But I didn’t feel anything.  Most definitely nothing like death.  Actually, I was feeling kind of toasty.  I couldn’t understand what had happened at first, but then it dawned on me and I started laughing.  Bob was looking at the gun, then the beam, then me with a very confused expression.
   “Bob,” I managed to say after gasping for a bit. “You didn’t create a deadly weapon.  You created a weaponized,” I snorted. “Flashlight.”
   Bob looked down at his weapon and a tear began to well up in one eye.  I busted up laughing again.  I couldn’t help it.  The guy looked so pitifully hilarious.  I patted him on the back and led him to the door.
   “It’s okay, Bob, it’s okay.  I’m sure you’ll get it to work next time.”
   He gave a sad little nod and plodded away.  I shut the door and, after another fit of laughter, went back to the others.
   “Wha was tha all aboot?” Wilfred asked.
   Just thinking about it made me laugh again, so I shook my head. “Ah man.  Naw, it was nothing.  Come on.  There’s a door down the hall.  Let’s see where it takes us.”
   “Are we going on an adventure?” Fredrick asked.
   “Course we are,” I replied as I walked down the hall. “So get on over here if you don’t want to be left behind.”
   He and Elizabeth ran to catch up to me.  I stopped in front of the door and, without further ado, opened it.  Through the doorway was a great, open, grassy plain as far as the eye could see.  I stepped through the door and a brisk wind tousled my hair.  The kids, Ben, and Wilfred came through after me and stood on either side. 
   “Pretty awesome, ain’t it?” I said.
   “It is indeed,” Ben replied.
   “Most wondrous indeed,” a completely unknown voice agreed.
   I spun around and there, standing next to the doorway, was some dude dressed up in armor with a sword on his belt and a smile on his face.
   “Who the heck are you?”
   The guy struck a noble pose. “I, good sir, am the famed Dan Coyote!”
   “Dan Coyote,” I mumbled the name, mulling over it. “Dan Coyote.  Oh!  You mean Don Quixote, right?”
   “No,” he said. “I mean Dan Coyote.  And I bear with me my steadfast companion, Poncho!”
   He held up a hand, upon which was a golden ring.
   Oh not you.
   Yes me.  We meet again.

   To be continued…