Welcome to Gaia! ::

This PSA was fun for me, because I had to write a PSA that I didn't feel like writing. So this abomination came out, which was, at the time, the longest PSA written to date.

PSA: On Sugar... Or something

Yo.

What? Did I throw you with my informal colloquial greeting? Well, you should expect more of them, for I have been informed by a Kitsune Ninja Girl that my extraneous monologue is the very image of verbosity and superfluousness in speech. As such, I will endeavor to reduce my speech into miniscule fragments primed for your delicious intellectual digestion. I have recently purchased a fine piece of literature labeled, "A Dummy's Guide to Ebonics". Please, keep an ocular organ searching for these lovely tidbits of colloquial trash throughout future Public Service Announcements!

However, before I launch into the arduous task of introducing and explaining our topic of discussion for today, I have an issue that requires your immediate attention.

I have been accused, on one or two occasions, of exercising my right to free speech in an inordinately extensive fashion, perhaps stretching a single topic of conversation into three or four pages of brilliant, unadulterated soliloquy. In short, I have been accused of 'rambling'. Please, allow me to lay this awful assertion to rest. I have never once, in my entire life span of an indeterminate number of years, rambled. People keep telling me that I'm rambling, on, and on, and on about things that don't really matter, but I have not been doing so. This faulty accusation causes me an undue amount of rage, and I'm forced to return with "No, my dear friend, you are clearly mistaken, for I never ramble on and on and on without really meaning to. In fact, I never ramble on and on and on period." At which point they reinform me that I've been rambling, which is clearly false, as I was simply refuting a subject they obviously know nothing about. I have been listed as 'rambling' about topics such as the Physics of Star Wars, the folly of the Empire's army in Star Wars, the Art of War, Ghengis Khan, Feudal Japanese History, notably of Samurai, the Hundred Years War, why Napoleon's shortness lead him to an inevitable defeat, why I despise pants, and once, I was even accused about Rambling about how I wasn't rambling! But I do not ramble on and on and on about things that don't really seem to matter, despite what has been said to the contrary. And in fact, every time somebody informs me that I seem to be rambling on and on and on about things that don't really seem to matter, I grow incensed and I feel murderous all-consuming rage boil up from somewhere below the Xiphoid process, in much the same way I feel when I see a fair maiden being hassled by a disrespectful boy who knows nothing of the glory and preciousness of a woman. Then I am of course forced to reply, and inform the accuser that I do not indeed ramble on and on and on about things that don't really seem to matter. Which they refute, largely to a clear lack of operating brain cells and/or a failure of their hypothalamus which should be obviously indicating that enraging me is not conducive to a long life. I do not, nor have I ever, rambled.

Now, with this relatively minor, and yet incredibly irritating issue brought up only by Communists and pathetic half-breeds (Such as politicians) issue out of the way, I suppose I should rightfully tackle the issue at hand.

You may or may not, depending on whether you read the subject or not, have noticed the rather vague title of this particular Public Service Announcement. This is because the creature I will be discussing today, is one of incredible shyness. In fact, she did not give her consent to be discussed today, that's how shy she is.

This glory of all that is good and beautiful in the world, a luminous jasmine flower from Ohio, is Hat Shop Lady, our resident… Uh… Hat Shop Owner.

Now, pray tell, what could I possibly tell you about Chere?

Let's see... Her hair was at one point red. She smells like blueberries sometimes. Uh... She enjoys Caffeine?

I apologize. There's really much less information on this topic than I'd originally hoped. This is... Perhaps rather embarrassing.

However, fear not, I will do my duty and bring you a healthy dosage of unhealthy information in short order! Never let it be said that the Astral Samurai, Champion of all that is good and Astral in the world, let down the oh so vulnerable public who depends so much upon him!

Yes... Stroke my ego a bit more... Oh my! I apologize, I didn't realize the fairy was transcribing still. Alright, fairy, I must respectfully request you cease and desist the rubbing of my head. No, seriously, you are dangerously close to wearing a bald-spot onto my head. Thank you. OH! Still transcribing? I apologize!

Ahem.

Rather than Hat Shop Lady, who I seem to have no information on, and who in retrospect was a terrible topic for a Public Service Announcement, today, I will discuss a topic that has been alluded to in a number of previous Public Service Announcements, but never directly addressed. This nebulous, always out of reach topic, are the 'Sugar Energies'.

While there are quite as many Sugar Energies as there are colors in a bowl of Lucky Charms, (Including the uber sexy Green Sugar Energy emanated by Hat Shop Lady at most times) today we will primarily be concerned with the two most dangerous varieties of Sugar Energy, Pink Sugar Energy, and Black Sugar Energy.

Despite their seemingly opposite nature, there is one similar effect caused by both of these Sugar Energies on the average human body. In even tiny dosages, Pink and Black Sugar Energy can cause tumors and other forms of cancer within mere moments. These tumors most frequently affect the 'brainmeat' but can also infect more important regions, such as the prostate. This is of particular concern to men, as prostate cancer is quite deadly to them. Prostate cancer doesn't seem to have a very large effect on women however. Scientists are still baffled as to the reasoning behind the Cancer's selective targeting.

However, beyond this simple 'tumor' effect, Pink and Black Sugar Energy have widely varied effects on the infected. We will discuss each in turn.

Pink Sugar Energy is radiated by things so cute, they are painful. Things in this category, include Kitsune girls with leaves on their head, little girls with Pink Hair, medium sized girls with Pink Hair, most forms of squirrels, bunnies (Especially pink ones), and My Little Ponies.

Oh God... Did I just mention the My Little Ponies? Damn you facial capillaries! Damn you I say! Cease your unfettered opening!

Ahem.

Pink Sugar Energy, has the fascinating effect of making the user completely invulnerable. This is less due to some innate property of the energy, and more because the Monster Slayer will double over in pain, clutch their skull and scream "Tumor!" Either that, or the Monster Slayer will be forced to stop in mid swing and say, "Awwww." and then be hit with a speeding bullet train. Note, that the bullet train is optional, and could very well be a mallet, a double-decker bus, or a double-decker Taco.

But of greater concern to the high powered Monster Hunter, is the fact that Pink Sugar Energy tends to completely and totally eradicate evil energy in the immediate vicinity. This is a real quandary for those of us trying to fight with blades made of the bones of demons and such. I should know, as I've lost untold blades in this matter.

Now, I hear the inevitable argument already. You'll get all righteously indignant, shift around on your chair a lot and state loudly to your computer screen, "But if they get rid of evil, why are you killing them Mr. Professional Monster Slayer Who's Mean to Small Cute Furry Animals and Who Rambles?"

FIRSTLY, Let me point out that I do NOT ramble on and on and on about things that do not matter. While I have been accused of such before, I -- what? What do you mean I already discussed this? Oh fine. You're the fairy.

Ahem.

Secondly, I should point out that evil wears many hats, as the proverb goes, and one of those hats is cute and pink and adorable. I'm not saying I go hunting My Little Ponies. They were after all, one of my solaces in times long past. Er! Ahem. I'm saying that sometimes Evil wears a pink hat, okay?

I'm not supposed to become flustered while performing a Public Service Announcement.

Now, I realize that the previous three pages of text were not, in fact, particularly funny, and for this I apologize. You see, there are certain sets of problems associated with trying to write funny Public Service Announcements about topics that are already inherently funny. You will note how I have deftly avoided discussing “Underwear”, “Midgets”, “Carnies”, “Cabbage”, or “Angry White Boys”. However, this brings up an interesting thought, that maybe at some point in the future, I should discuss Running Into Walls, because a comic book I once read stated, “Baseball rule book says: Running into walls isn’t funny!”

Hm. Glancing back at the above paragraph, I realize that was completely unrelated to the topic at hand, and thus, I apologize. I occasionally have this habit of discussing for lengthy periods of time subjects with no relation to the matter at hand. Some might go so far as to call these ‘tangents’. To these people I say, Why you gotta be ruinin’ my flava Bee? Your all comin’ up here like you know me, but you don’t! You don’t know me!

See? I told there’d be colloquialisms. Sure, I pointed this one out to you, but you’ll have to keep an eye out for the rest.

What do you mean I’m going off on another tangent? Are you trying to imply that I’m not interested in discussing Sugar Energies? How dare you!? I’m both insulted and – What do you mean I’m doing it again?

Fine. Back to the topic at hand (Or claw, pincher, tentacle or whatever you are using to read this post – assuming you read by touch rather than sight. Wait, why am I assuming monsters are reading this? And why am I still typing? I could’ve swore I was trying to get back on topic. Oh right. End Parenthesis.)

Where Pink Sugar finds its root in Cuteness, Black Sugar energy finds its roots in a concept we like to call ‘Sexiness’. Black Sugar Energy is the terrible destructive force wielded by Morrigan (Of Succubus fame) and oft-times wielded by female Vampires and other assorted strangely attractive female Demons, Chere and in rare cases, Hat Shop Lady. I’ve also been informed that Furries occasionally emanate Black Sugar Energy, but have yet to see evidence of this.

Black Sugar Energy, as stated earlier causes tumors, but unlike Pink Sugar Energy where you’re likely to notice them the moment they begin uncontrolled cell-division, Black Sugar Tumors are far more sneaky, generally because you’re staring (See also: Drooling) at glistening flesh scented subtly with jasmine as the Sugar Generator moves slowly towards you, probably swaying seductively.

Disclaimer: Said description applies mostly to men fighting Black Sugar Generators, as I’m sure women have different experiences, if you have a different experience, please feel free to post and let other female hunters know what to expect.

It’s vile and pervasive presence is also sure to drag all but the most strong willed adventurer into depravity in short order. Which in many cases is even worse than losing your awesome evil-imbued sword. It’s especially embarrassing when your friends come to try and ‘save’ you after you’ve sunk into depravity and then they do their best to kill the sugar generator while your rubbing your face affectionately against her legs and purring – ER...

Wow. There seems to be something stuck in my throat. Oh. There it is. A cough. Never mind the whole last part of that last paragraph. Strike it from the record, aye?

In any case, as one might be able to extrapolate, Black Sugar Energy has a number of... Shall we say, mind altering qualities? Tumors are dangerous in and of themselves, but Black Sugar Energy is venom – you don’t even realize the horrors being sprung upon your poor, fragile mind until it’s too late to resist those devilish trembling lips mere inches from your own, with her soft honey sweet breath... Her eyes liquid pools of molten green gold, staring into your soul... Reaching in and tugging at your heart strings and triggering physiologic responses reserved for archaic mating rituals... Oh Hat Shop Lady...

Now, I’m sure you’re sitting in your comfy computer chair, and saying, “Mr. Professional Monster Slayer, could you please get a grip, and tell us how we’re supposed to defeat these Sugar Monstrosities before your sanity finishes going down the drain and we’re left to defend ourselves with our own pathetic devices which will lead to our quick slaughter and enslavement at the hands of beautiful demons, vampires and My Little Ponies?”

Firstly, that was a crazy-long sentence. Second, yes, I’ll try and get a grip and tell you how to defeat these Sugar Monstrosities before blah blah fill in the rest of the sentence yourself.

Ahem.

When I go out of my way to destroy these Sugar Generators, I always keep one thing with me: Ants.

It is a well known and undisputed fact that Ants like sugar. Flies like sugar too, but they carry diseases and are less easy to put into jars. With a couple of handy jars of ants around, all you have to do is chuck one near the source of Sugar Energy Generation. Granted, it may take a single jar full of ants a very, very long time to completely eat a Succubus or Cat-Girl with Pink hair, but they’ll get to it eventually. Slow and steady wins the race, as they said in that one fable that lies a lot.

Moreover, because ants are not technically classified as evil AND are not attracted by humanoid concepts of beauty, they’re largely immune to the secondary effects of Pink Sugar Energy. Yes, they will get tumors, but it doesn’t matter, ‘cause they’re ants.

Even if it doesn’t kill the Sugar Generator, it gives you ample time to escape as they’ll be doing the ‘pee-pee dance’ for several minutes.

It even saddens me to point out that a weapon normally effective against any creature, Monster Slayers United’s patented Cream Laser, works a lot less on Sugar Generators due to their energy stemming from their physical form. It might kill them, but it doesn’t eradicate the source of the energy, and only increases it, since Cream is full of Sugar.

Ultimately, the best defense against Sugar Generators is to never fight one by yourself! Keep a member of the opposite sex (Or sexual preference, as the case may be) who will be immune to these dangerous waves of crippling energy. If your partner can lacerate the enemy’s body to the point where they are neither cute nor crippling anymore, then you can join in on the fight, but do not put yourself at risk! Face and Brain cancer is no fun for anybody, and Prostate Cancer is especially no fun for men.

And with that, I leave you to your musings, vulnerable public.

Remember – Only you can prevent ignorance from killing you.

[ Message temporarily off-line ]

As a special treat for all my loyal readers, I once wrote a special DOUBLE PSA. It was also a historic first. And last.

PSA: On Special Double Whammies!

Rejoice in the word of the Astral Samurai, for he now walks among you with the intent to educate you on the appropriate ways to give a righteous butt whomping to the evils that walk the land.

Today, I, clearly the hardest working member of Monster Slayers United, will be bringing you an oh-so special treat -- A Double Whammy, if you will, of Monster Slaying Advice, Tips and Hints.

For this auspicious occasion, I have chosen two, rather innocuous creatures, frequently overlooked by more Veteran Monster Slayers, but an all too common threat to the neophyte. These two creatures, are the Disgruntled Buffalo, and the Psychotic Beaver.

Now, far be it from in character for me to suggest you actively hunt and slay the non-magical portions of our Animal Friend Kingdom, but the Disgruntled Buffalo and the Psychotic Beaver are, despite appearances, quite magical, and thus fit into the Supernatural category.

We will discuss the two creatures, one at a time, as it seems to be the only fair way to do it, since some other, unnamed creature would be jipped out if I did it three at a time.

Origin stories in bad 80's Comic Books abound for the strange and mysterious Disgruntled Buffalo. However, rather than go look at something drawn by guys doing crack and voting for Ronald Reagan, I will simply tell you the truth, which none of them ever hit upon.

(As a preemptive note: I realize that the term Buffalo is frequently confused with the term American Bison, but as my primary target is American, and in America, the two terms are synonymous, I see no reason to call them Disgruntled American Bison as opposed to Disgruntled Buffalo. So bite me you Animal Classification Majors.)

The Disgruntled Buffalo is the failed experiment of a Mage of no small skill, who attempted to dabble in the gentle 'science' of Psychology. While originally, the Buffalo was only as intelligent as it's other hoofed brethren, the Mage first gave the Buffalo a massive-infusion of Intelligence Upping magic, before attempting to counsel the poor beast.

Anyone who's ever seen a Psychologist on late-night WB specials knows the inherent dangers there-in, of the Psychologist either not knowing anything, and as such sketching on a paper pad and not paying attention, and/or the Psychologist will automatically take everything you say to be some sort of sexual euphemism for something. Now imagine, if you will, a Buffalo, without the complex vocalization system a human being has, and the hilarity - er... Misunderstandings, that must arise from such a coupling. Needless to say, the Buffalo became disgruntled with both it's lack of actual mental problems and still being forced to see a Psychologist, and the Psychologist wearing an a**-hat. (Which if you recall, are the opposite of Chaps. Which is just icky. Why would somebody wear what essentially amounts to a butt-cover? The world may never know.) After the Buffalo broke free from the chains of oppression at the hands of a man who claimed he wanted to sleep with his mother, the Buffalo returned to the Wild Prairies, to breed, and have children.

If you're not aware, many children take on attributes of their parents in ways even they may not be conscious of. As such, the entire line of Buffaloes that sprang up, is both intelligent AND Disgruntled, almost perpetually. Even the classic "Underwear" ploy fails to make them smile, let alone laugh. They do in fact, almost seem to suck the fun out of the very area they're in, which makes them terrible guests to take to your Birthday at Chuckie Cheese's, unless your goal is to ruin the lives of a bunch of 10 year olds who had to clean their room to go to a combination Pizza-Place and Arcade with people who dress up like anthropomorphic monstrosities.

While generally, a Disgruntled Buffalo isn't a threat to even a normal person, there are rare circumstances, where Disgruntled Buffalo may rally a rebellion in a Province, and become Brigands feeding on the wealth of their betters and regurgitating it back to the peasant masses like some sort-of disgusting seagull. But even more disconcerting than a rebellion by Buffalo and their team of seemingly loveable animal friends, is when you wake up with a Disgruntled Buffalo on your face.

Thankfully, this fate of having a several thousand pound bovine on my face has been avoided thus far. However, I know of people not so lucky. The Disgruntled Buffalo seems to have a strange sort-of sadistic streak in it, and will sometimes seek out people to sit on, especially when the epithet "I hope a disgruntled buffalo sits on your face!" is shouted in some sort-of nearly arcane summoning ritual. If a Buffalo sits on your face -- don't worry, you're probably already dead. If that's the case and you're still reading this, please let me know, I'm behind on my undead Quota for the month.

While I do firmly protest the slaughter of innocent Buffalo just for their wings, these magically induced abominations should probably be hunted to extinction as quickly as possible, before more Grocery Clerks and Video Game Store Doofi (The plural form of Doofus) die from me cursing at them.

Good plans involve shooting at them from trains, tricking them by having them sit on a blow-up doll and then lodging a sword in their skull, or Napalm.

Also, please remember, that if you kill a Disgruntled Buffalo, do not waste it. Dismantle the Buffalo, sell it's meat, turn it's hide into a stylish jacket, use it's stomach for a canteen, bones for silverware, liver for a floppy hat and the intestines to repair your favorite bagpipe. Also, if the aforementioned Buffalo has wings, I want them for my trophy collection.

As Buffalo, they're not too terribly difficult to kill, although slingshots, darts, and bows and arrows will take much longer, as their gross HP range is far less (1d4, 1d2 and 1d6 appropriately). Also, beware of Disgruntled Buffalo with a Herd, lest they Stampede. Even the Valkyries and their complete lack of pants won't be able to save you if they stampede at you.

And thus! Buffalo are complete.

Psychotic Beavers have their roots in far more insidious Comic Books. The Psychotic Beavers were formed in 1812 (At the same time as the Cream Separator interestingly enough, a Conspiracy?) in response to the wholesale slaughter of their kind - for hats.

I don't know about you, but I like hats.

These rebellious Beavers became Partisans of a sort, wearing stupid looking berets, and AK-47's, doubtless the most widely understood symbol of automatic weaponry, and also a clear indication of Weapon Companies whoring themselves out to Beavers. The Beavers had little trouble thwarting the silly Humans who tried to put them in place with Hunting Rifles and/or Flint-lock rifles. Automatic Weapons tend to have advantages like that, I guess.

Within short order, the Beavers took over a Secluded Mountain Complex used by racists and slavers, and held off the encroaching human hordes for decades.

But eventually, people just forgot about those stupid beavers, and left them to rot in their mountain fortress. Eventually, portions of the Beavers slipped out of the mountains under the cover of nightfall, to be made into hats, clearly the sane choice.

Today, these Beaver's ancient Kalishnikov AK's are rusted, and their stupid berets left on the fireplace as Beavers take a more erratic and random approach to winning the right to vote -- attacking people with wooden legs.

Often, before becoming aware of this threat, whenever somebody would try and run me over as I walked in the right lane of the highway, I would shout, "I hope a psychotic beaver gnaws off your wooden leg you hippie!", only to see on the News when I checked Fark the next day that yet another person with a Wooden leg was forced to have it amputated due to attacks by crazed or 'psychotic' beavers. It appears, I was unwittingly being used by the Beaver Revolutionaries to point out people with peg legs for removal. Granted, the Beaver typically becomes a hat during said attack, but these attacks are still detrimental to society as a whole.

Now I advocate the complete and utter eradication of these vile, vile revolutionaries, because as you know, no Revolution is okay unless you win, and these stupid beavers aren't going to win -- Not on my watch you paddle-butted heathens! Watch me shake my fist at you!

Now, I'm sure you're saying, "I agree completely with you Mr. Professional Monster Slayer Who Does These Stupid I'm Sure You're Saying Bits Almost Every Time You Post a PSA, but how can I help?"

Beavers are not hard to draw out into the open. Simply find a friend with a peg leg, and point him out by screaming something about psychotic beavers and wooden legs, also feel free to make thinly veiled sexual euphemisms while you do so. When the beavers bolt from their hiding place to attack the wooden leg, either fill them full of bullets, or slice them into two pieces as they fly through the air in a graceful arc that would put them in the Olympics if they weren't stupid Beavers. Then Rinse, Wash, Lather, and Repeat. Psychotic Beavers luckily for you, and everybody else, have no advantages short of being Psychotic, which under many RPing systems counts as a disadvantage. They also make excellent hats. Have I mentioned that yet?

So please, do your patriotic duty and help to put down the Rebellious Psychotic Beaver Uprising. If you don't, then the Beaver Terrorists win, you know.

And thus, we have concluded our segment on Psychotic Beavers! Don't you feel knowledgeable and informed? If you don't, then you have a problem. Did you read the post? Were you wearing your glasses? Can you read? If not, than that may be your problem.

Remember - only you can prevent ignorance from killing yourself. Astral Samurai signing out.

(Holy shite! Thad's talking about ninja!
Wow... this was back when I still worked at Hy-Vee. Damn.)

PSA: From the Shadows...

Life used to be much simpler than this, I know it did. Seriously, I was there the whole time. I totally noticed. Yet somehow, I find myself waking up this morning at 4:45 AM and heading off to my 'other job' and standing around for six hours to do something that I was, in fact, not hired to do. Not only that, but apparently there's this poltergeist that haunts the dining area of my workplace that harbors and unshakable hunger for a Bacon-Cheeseburger meal. It just kept ringing it up for no reason. I had an extreme urge to just throw down all pretenses right then and there and go on a very violent (not to mention, collaterally damaging) ghost hunting venture. Sadly, the rules forbid such rampant and obvious anti-monster activity, and there are all these secondary clause things about hunting ghost and crap like that.

Anyway, last time I partially hit on the whole 'I'm POed that we can't just go around slaying trolls to our hearts content, due to their sanctioning as an official source of cheap energy' thing, though I mainly focused on ways of getting effective troll-removal from various products... Today I will be focusing (uhm, well... at least kind of focusing) on the other half of what I was vaguely alluding to. The stupid rules that shadowy-jobs carry with them these days.

Now I can't really complain about MSU. I mean, I get something like $2.10 a week, just for being on the ticket, plus the commission for whatever assignments that we had that week. Not too bad, all told. The rules can be a pain sometimes, sure... but, they're just so all those crazy 'there are no monsters, that's just some swamp gas balloons or something' peoples' heads don't explode upon seeing us fighting some huge pit-fiend or some such thing. No, I'll tell you what's really been hit hard by all this political and shadow-political manipulations. Ninja.

Once upon a time, it was good to be a ninja. I remember those times quite well. You master gave you a mission, and that mission was your life. Your name, honor, and life (which back then, were all pretty much the same thing) were on the line, and failure was not an option. That was something I liked about those days... people holding their honor and their good name higher than any petty material thing. Higher than their own life, in some instances. No more of that. So sad...

Anyway, I'm getting off topic. The topic that I'm really yammering towards is the place that ninja have in the current economic situation. It's pretty screwed up. All these political activists and whiners and kids who want to grow up to be ninja have totally screwed the few true masters left out of getting any serious work. The whole problem centers around the Ninja Union. Its all these rules and regulations and legal mumbo-jumbo, nobody with any wits wants to deal with them.

I'll give you an example. For one thing, you are required to share your techniques with the other ninja with which you are grouped, and they (they, being the Union) are the ones who pick the groups. This is the almost the entire reason why I don't associate myself with those ridiculous, wannabe, store-bought mask wearing phonies. Okay, first of all... no. I mean, you never show your hand, that's rule #1 for any ninja... let alone those who carry within their very mind and body, the Secrets of the Ancient Shadow Orders which require you to not die until you find a suitable heir to pass them on to. And I still can't get passed the whole "they pick your group" thing. You'll invariably end up stuck with a bunch of fresh-from-the-dojo kids who have no respect, restraint, or willingness to put their own safety on the line for the glory of their Master and their ancestors.

I know for a fact that I'm not alone in this. In fact, very few of those who have the focus and skills of a True Ninja even work in the stealth infiltration/assassination field. You know those ninja that you see in movies, who dance around right in front of their single target and attack him one at a time, telegraphing their every move and making themselves retardedly-easy to counter and defeat? Yeah, them. That's pretty much what you get from Union Ninja. Not to mention the fact that they'll take breaks right in the middle of a mission, and whine when they are not paid enough.

So, where have all the true masters of stealth gone? Well, they may be closer than you think. I have been doing research over the past several years and have found many of my honorable brethren out in the world, just trying to make ends meet and hold on to the dignity that we once had. Keeping with something that seems to be in our collective blood, they have almost all taken on jobs which are thankless and garner absolutely no recognition.

The prime example of this is Ninja Burger. They have been honorably serving hot, fresh, quality food to unsuspecting customers since 1954. I myself would have joined forces with the Burger Clan long ago, if not for an oath to a deceased mentor of mine, in which I swore to never work in the fast food industry. I do, however, support the Ninja Burger by ordering Ninja Burger Combo #2 (Double Ninja Burger, French Fries of Our Ancestors, and Large Cola) and an Onion Death Blossom whenever I can. I encourage all fellow ninja and ninja supporters to do the same. And remember the Ninja Burger Motto: Guaranteed delivery in 30 minutes or less, or we commit Seppuku!

The Onion, America's Finest News Source, has one story chronicling the story of a now-deceased office ninja by the name of Toshiro Tenchumaru. No words that I can say truly do this story its tragic justice. You can check it out here. Obviously, Toshiro was pushed to the end of his rope and, in order to save himself from further dishonor, lashed out the only way he knew how. Anybody who has done office work, or perhaps simply seen the movie Office Space, could probably understand where he was coming from. Though the use may not have been justified, his techniques were unparalleled... at least by normal standards.

This last example of true ninja in the modern world was brought to my attention by none other than AstralSamurai. He, several years ago, mentioned that he had considered becoming a ninja-postman, earlier in his life. I was of course surprised to hear of such a thing. Upon doing research, I found that they were perhaps the most successful ninja (from an economic standpoint) in the world today.

Operating mostly as the couriers of our very own Shadow Government (as well as select branches of the United States Postal Service) these stealthy public servants deliver their packages silently, invisibly, and with deadly accuracy. Neither rain, nor sleet, nor enemy hordes shall keep them from their appointed rounds.

The rest of us have faded into obscurity, only coming out now and then to serve either a vague concept of justice, or any cute Princess-like girl that is at least slightly threatened in some way. That last one, now that I think of it, is apparently a common weakness between AstralSamurai and myself... and pretty much all adventurers, really. "No! Not the sad puppy-dog eyes!! Gaahhh!! Cannot... resist..."

So please, if you want to hire a ninja, go for non-Union Ninja. They are, every once in a while, slowed down by strike teams from the Union, but this will never truly effect their work. On the other hand, Union Ninja frequently botch their assignments and will invariably be traced back to you, resulting in bloody revenge by your intended target.

Also, don't forget that with places like Ninja Burger and people like Ninja-postmen (or postwomen) around, they aren't just for killing anymore!!

Remember -- Only you can prevent ignorance from killing you.

[ Message temporarily off-line ]

This PSA is probably my second favorite, both because of the subject matter, and because of the raw effect it had on people. I had one girl in my Creative Writing class (Who I tested this out on) actually break out in tears, and one of the guys told me he'd never felt so ill in his life. Now they too can know the passion with which I hunt monsters.

PSA: On Tentacle Monsters

Hail and well-met vulnerable public, it is I, the Astral Samurai, defender of all that is good in the world, your friendly neighborhood Monster Slayer, here to furnish upon you an insignificant sliver of my monumentally dizzying intellect. Although I realize that most of the MSU's loyal readers and support have fled the boards in the face of insurmountable idiocy, I trust that among the vast, uncleaned masses that at least one or two of you will seize upon this information and make it your own, and in doing so, protect yourself from those most vile and vicious beasts which we do call Monsters.

This PSA is brought to you in honor of No-Pants Friday (Please support your local Pantsless Chapter on Fridays!) and as an unstated request from Gaia's official Tentacle Lady: Celisasu.

So, without further ramblings, I give you... Tentacle Monsters.

Imagine, if you will, that you are out for a walk. As you progress down the street, vague shadows flit from building to building, teeming and oozing with malice and evil. These shadows may be Communists. They may be Vampires. Or they may be the most sinister and hated of all Monsters: Tentacle Monsters, and they have only one thing on their tiny Monster Minds: To rape you in the worst possible way -- standing up in a hammock.

You might pass by a lamppost, when abruptly the many slimy tentacles leap from the dark ally between two buildings, not unlike the ferocious maw of... Two buildings, and then, pulled kicking and screaming into the darkness to have your various orifices, like your mouth, ears, and other sensitive places, perhaps your backpassages, ripped asunder by eagerly probing prehensile phalluses in a pathetic imitation of Muppets. That's right friends, rather than having a 30 year old man's hand stuck there, you get a tentacle, and it doesn't even have to reach your mouth to make you start screaming random and incoherent things.

Now that we have this suitable grotesque image in your head, it would almost seem unnecessary for me to continue describing the horror that is a Tentacle Monster. And yet press on I must, for among your midst there will those who tout the Tentacle's mysterious powers and worship it not unlike a spasmodic jack-in-the-box.

Tentacle Monsters vary widely in appearance. Generally, they consist or a large, orb-like structure in the middle, and a number of tentacles, which range from two, to nearly three or four thousand. What? They're tiny tentacles, okay? Tentacle Monsters may draw various distinctions between themselves in an effort to separate themselves from each other, so they can continue to invade orifices and rape the innocent without anybody noticing. For example, one Tentacle Beast being "interrogated" once proclaimed his innocence merely because he was a furry Tentacle Fiend instead of a slimy Tentacle Monstrosity. There are also scaled Tentacle Monsters, and rumors persist of Cotton Candy Tentacle Wretches. Don't let their sugary exterior fool you, a Tentacle Monster is a Tentacle Monster.

Now, some of you may be saying to yourself, "But Mr. Professional Monster Slayer, how do you identify a Tentacle Monster from a Not-Tentacle Monster? I mean, Former Attorney General Janet Reno looks an awful lot like a Tentacle Monster, and Martha Stewart acts like a Tentacle Monster. It's all so confusing! Help me Mr. Professional Monster Slayer! You're my only hope!"

Well never fear poor, poor confused public, for I will heap upon your poor fragile skulls the secret to identifying Tentacle Monsters.

Here's the secret: Tentacle Monsters... Have... Tentacles.

Now I can already hear the clamor from the animal rights activists whining about Squid and Octopi(or pusses, as you prefer), and let me assure you, even Squid and Octopi are Tentacle Beasts.

This leads directly into my next point: Those poor poor fools who insist that Tentacle Monsters are our friends, or are innocent of all the brutal rapes that occur at the Tentacle Monsters' ... Uh... Tentacles. When Tentacle Supporters start whining about the prejudice against Tentacle Monsters, please, do your patriotic duty, and stick a banana in their tailpipe. Take that however you will.

These people will argue vehemently in favor of Tentacle Monsters, indicating that not all Tentacle Monsters go around raping people. When they refer to these Tentacle monsters that don't rape people, they're talking about mollusks, as opposed to giant intelligent Tentacle Demons spawned from Satan's Seed (See also: The Book of Jared). This is hardly a fair comparison, especially when you consider that Giant Squids make regular sport of raping things like... Boats, or even whales. It may not be the same thing, but it's the same ballpark.

I've lost count of the sheer number of times that people have argued with me in the PSA threads of antiquity, regarding the status of Monster Rights. Claiming Monsters have as much right to life as humans do, and that they're woefully under represented legally. That my friends, is as we say in the line of Professional Monster Slaying, is bullshit. As of the Monster Relocation and Commerce Act of 1902, Monsters have forfeited the entirety of their legal rights. Why's that? Because they lost. They were defeated in relatively honorable combat under controlled situations, and in the resulting peace accord, in order to save their own lives, they forfeited their share of the future. Vae Victus. Woe be to the defeated.

Thus, all the Tentacle Monsters who continue to violate the law, by doing things like... Raping the innocents, are... Well, violating the law, which also makes them Political Insurgents. Both crimes bear the penalty of death, so ultimately, the wholesale slaughter of an entire culture is completely warranted in this situation.

Now, again, I can hear the Tentacle Lovers in the masses crying out, "But not all Tentacle Monsters rape people! It's just those select, disturbed minded individuals who sour the reputation of our -- er -- their people as a whole! Give them another chance!"

In response, I must ask you, and be honest: Did a Tentacle Fiend rape the brain right out of your skull!? Do you have any idea how the majority of Tentacle Monsters feed?

Let me enlighten you. You know when those tentacles are forced into your ear or whatever and you start squirming and screaming to get away? They feed on your kinetic energy. They're not raping you because they care, okay? They're eating you.

And the other minority of Tentacle Monsters? They'll pry the flesh right off your bones and devour it. Again with the eating.

This refers back to a PSA produced by Thaddeus in the not so distant past, I believe. Why are Vampires not your friends? Because they turn you into sandwiches. Not even like a good sandwich. You're relegated to the position of Peanut Butter and Banana or whatever. You get to be lunch.

Does that somehow sound appealing to you?

Animal Rights Activists and Vegetarians are always asking me, "How would you feel if a cow tried to eat you?" Thankfully, I don't have to worry about an army of angry rebellious bovines rising up against me armed with semi-automatic machine guns. But I've had my fair share of Vampires and Tentacle Monsters trying to feed on me. Fortunately, unlike cows, I can kill my attacker.

And that, dear, vulnerable, unwashed public, is precisely what you should be doing.

Now, if by this point I have not painted a gruesome enough picture of Tentacle Rapists and their clandestine activities, I will have to assume you are either a Tentacle-Supporter (Indicating mass drug-usage or Brain raping) or a Tentacle Monster yourself. In either case, I'm going to pee in your bed. Just so you know.

Now, the rest of you who are clearly the brightest and best amongst human beings are probably squirming excitedly in your chair, knowing indeed that the most important part of the PSA is coming up next: "How do I kill a Tentacle Monster?"

Tentacle Monsters are horrible foes for a number of reasons, as I'm sure you can imagine. Obviously, if you get too close, they'll snatch you up with their tentacles and rape you in a very uncomfortable place -- No, not the back of a Volkswagen. Thus, it is of utmost importance to stall every Tentacle attack long before it reaches you. Slicing off the Tentacles typically works well, but be warned that some Tentacle Fiends have a bizarre mutation that enables them to grow two prehensile phalluses in place of whichever tentacle you removed. This is especially deadly on Tentacle Wretches with two "dominant" tentacles. If you encounter such a creature, always remember that the universal deterrents to regeneration are fire and acid. Heck, fire is really the universal solvent -- It'll cure what ails you.

If it works on Trolls, it'll work on Tentacle Monsters.

Once you've cleared the dangerous field of tentacle tools, you are free to direct your attacks against the Tentacle Monster itself. Most frequently, this is a futile effort, because Tentacle Monsters in many cases lack any kind-of defined internal organ structure, so it is impossible to give universal advice to dispatching them in an efficient manner. However, trust me, Tentacle Monsters bleed, and if it bleeds, you can kill it.

Your first option, for those of you who don't care much for your precision rating, is to cover it's orb-like center-piece in lacerations. Wait. Watch it bleed to death in a slow and horrendously painful manner.

Option two requires you to have severed most of the creature's top-most tentacles beforehand. This will obviously serve aerial or acrobatic fighters the best. All you have to do, is lodge your weapon through their north-pole in such a manner that they become pinned to the ground. Not only will the blood loss of their tentacle stumps slow them down significantly, but they'll be pinned to the ground. Feel free to pull up a bench and have existential discussions on Death with the Tentacle Monster as it gradually starves to death. Those starved Tentacle Monsters say the deepest things just before they die, like, "ARRRRRGH" or "SQUAAAAWK" or I even heard a "MURGH" once.

Option three is simple, and the easiest for those of you who have no skill in weapons, it merely requires a bit of foresight. During the winter, be sure to stock up on salt. When you encounter a Tentacle Monster, take the high-ground, and pour salt on it. This is... Well, cruel, even for a Monster Slayer. I mean, depriving a water-based creature of it's oh-so-precious life liquids? But it works, there's no denying that. Slimy Tentacle monsters in particular will find this death to be most gruesome, although it has proven to be effective against all forms of Tentacle Monsters. Just remember, that in reality, Tentacle Monsters are just like really huge slugs with Tentacles who like to invade your orifices and hear you scream in stomach-churning agony.

Option four, is for those of you with some knowledge in the arcane arts. Fire is the universal solvent. Need I say more?

There you have it. Tentacle Monsters are a dangerous foe to be sure, but not invincible. A bit of planning, a bit of foresight, or a bit of skill will see you stand atop a veritable mountain of Tentacle Beast corpses. Don't let their incessant whining about their legal rights dissuade you. Listen not to the Tentacle Rights Activists and their blabbering about how Tentacles deserve the same chance as human beings. You know better, I'm sure you do, you don't want to end up as food for a giant ball with tentacles now do you? ... Nor do you want me to pee in your bed, I think.

Be ever vigilant against the Many Tentacled Ones, friends, and don't hesitate to put them or their brain-raped followers to the blade! Only through our united course of action against the fiends will we ever be victorious.

Here comes my conclusion, which ideally should be witty and clever. Unfortunately, as per usual, it will be neither.

Remember -- Only you can prevent ignorance from killing you.

(I was gone for the entire summer of 2004. This is my explaination.)

PSA: Return of the Ninja

Unless you're some kind of Martian or perhaps a resident of a parallel dimension where the MSU isn't the center of the all things, I'm sure you've noticed that my l33t presence has been suspiciously absent from Gaia for the past, oh... three months or so. If you are from a parallel dimension, then I must congratulate you for managing to hack across the very fabric of reality. And if you're a Martian... well, then you know what's coming if you show your butt-ugliness around here again, b***h.

So, yeah... as to my whereabouts for the past few months, well... there's a funny story that goes with that.

It all started with the house. I have a new house now. It's rather nice. Out in the country, a little pond out back... there's lots of land around... and, of course, some cows. There are also fruit trees. Cherry, apple, pear... I'm sure they're all nice in their own little ways. However, I've moved to the country... so I've been eating a lot of peaches.

Let me just tell you up front that, for lack of a better term, these peaches are some good s**t. Right off of a damn tree, too!! Did I mention that already? They put fruit on trees now... lots of it. They should keep that up. I don't know whose idea that was, but... it's golden. The ones that grow in cans taste nasty.

So, yes. there are peaches. And I'm sure that if you're any kind of competent reader, you'll know what comes next. That's right... enemy ninjas.

I could hardly go through a day without those bastards showing up. There I'd be, minding my own business, and they'd all pop out from behind things and begin attacking me one at a time, while the others danced around in a threatening circle. It's a daily-freakin'-occurance... just ask anybody with peach trees.

So, it became abundantly clear that I would have to take up a mantle that had long ago been cast aside, thought to be unneeded in the modern world. That's right, I would have to be... The Better Ninja.

Long ago, when the old systems still reigned supreme, many a power hungry man would follow the path of the ninja simple for the stat bonuses and access to m4d skillz and weapon proficiencies. NPCs, random monsters, and even bosses would find themselves totally unable to stand in the way of this breed of ninja... The Broken Ninja.

And for many ages, it remained this way... until one day, the Master of Dungeons finally took pity upon the world. He looked down upon the foolish Broken Ninja and scowled furiously at their blant impudence. The very sky opened as his voice echoed across the World Map. "A Better Ninja," he spake unto them, "Falls from the sky and kills you."

So it was.
And it was good.
Et cetera.

So, long story short: I spent a good portion of the summer being hurled into the stratosphere with the aid of Jared's Huge Catapult and kicking some ninja a**. Sure, I could just walk up to them... but... you can just shut your stupid mouth. Stupid...

Of course, hurling myself towards certain action movie cliche may be endlessly amusing, but it hardly pays the bills... and neither does the salary or commission that I get for the rampant, unhindered slaughter of monstrous creatures. That's why I got a job working construction.
...
What? Don't give me that look. There's nothing wrong with construction. Actually it was Shadow Government Construction... building the coolest things that you'll never see. So, there!

Busting things down, moving the debris, and putting new stuff in its place� Hell, I break things for free all the time, so why not? Plus they gave me this sw33t Sonic Hammer upgrade for my mechanical arm. Oh, and y'know those loaders like you see in Aliens? I ganked one for myself. Dale says I should use it for giant monster fights, but I mostly use it to pick up small houses and move them to different lots... y'know, just to freak out the owners. Besides, that�s what swords are for.

Aside from working (and the terminal velocity ninja fights), I also have been spending quite a bit of time at the dentist's office. My teeth have been bothering me for quite a while now, but you know how it is... I just never could find the time. So, anyway... I come to find out that I have some fairly extensive damage that is sorely in need of attention. It's from this one time that, well... there was this situation involving Jared, a baseball bat, and me getting hit. I'd rather not go into details about it. Suffice to say that Jared hit me right in the face with a baseball bat.

And then there was my birthday... not a very momentous occasion to be sure. I mean, it's happened every year for the past, I dunno... two-thousand and something years, I guess. There's very little fanfare involved in the occasion. Archmage's Birthday, however, arrives with more fanfare than a large portion of major holidays. Come to think of it, that was another event that has occurred during my unintentional vacation. That was the day that we came upon the Three Mystical Orbs... presumably Orbs of Knowledge, but we're not entirely sure. They can be real dicks sometimes.

So, yeah... this is my way of saying, "Monsters beware, for I shall haunt your shadows once more." I'll probably get another more topical PSA up soon, probably about how vampires are lame and worthless and can't write poetry worth s**t.

In the end, I guess the real point here is simple this:
If there's a kitty on your foot... then, for god's sake, touch it!! You know not your peril!
...
That was a hell of a reach.

Remember -- Only you can prevent ignorance from killing you.

(My first PSA doubled as the chronicle of my months long exile and eventual triumphant return to Gaia, in addition to being, I believe, the longest PSA to date wink ['cause it's me.] Also, I recently realized that, sadly, being the MSU's resident Grammar And Spelling Nazi did not save me from misspelling the word "doppelganger" throughout the entire PSA. This problem has now been fixed, and the spell checker program responsible has been sacked.)

PSA: On Doppelgangers

Long has it been since I have walked these streets and long has it been since I have gazed on these hallowed chambers. The MSU Halls are my home. And I have been gone too long. The faces I knew have changed and wear masks of wonder at my presence. And all too many faces I see are new and different. They look at me with questions in their eyes.

I am a stranger in the lands I call home.

I am the Archmage.

Keeper of Flame, Wielder Of Will, and Custodian Of The Sacred Gallon Of Milk.

Those who knew me of old shall remember me again, and those of you who know me not shall soon learn that I don't talk like I just fell out of the intro movie to an RPG all the time. I promise.

But today, my friends, such speech is necessary. For I have a tale to tell. Much has happened since my exile. I am sure that the goings on in the MSU Halls have been as... exciting as I remember them, but many things have happened outside the walls of Barton Town that you may not have received news of.

So sit right back and I'll tell a tale, a tale of a months-long trip...

Some time ago, I was on duty in the MSU Headquarters when we received an emergency call. A frantic female voice on the other end of the phone exhorted me to help her friends. She cried that on a walk back from getting their hair styled in Durem they were attacked by a tentacle beast just outside of the reclamation facility. She had managed to escape, but her three friends were still back there and she told me she was afraid to think of what the monster would do to them if someone didn't help... what it could already be doing to them.

sad I was afraid to think of it as well.

I turned on the standby/pause mode on the MSU's Undead Elimination Training Module without even bothering to turn it off... after all, it had been a while since I had found a typewriter. I looked at my ratty clothes, knowing I would need to be at my battle best. For a powerful mage, thought and deed are often one and the same, and so a snap of my fingers found my battle uniform unfolding from thin air onto my body. A wave of my hand the phone flew to the receiver and hung up. And focusing my power with a word in a language long forgotten by mortal men: "bamf!" I vanished into a cloud of smoke.

In the next instant my teleportation spell brought me to the pipes of the Reclamation Facility, my eyes sharp and invigorated by magic, my hands wreathed in the flame I knew so well; I immediately began searching for the beast and the schoolgirls it held captive. But I saw no sign of the tentacle monster, or any girls. All I saw were three figures standing on the far rim of the Facility pool. Even from such a distance I knew easily that they were some of my MSU comrades. I breathed a sigh of relief and ran to them. They stood waiting for me and smiled at my approach.

surprised "Did you already slay the beast? How did you know it was here?"

wink JonOh replied cheerily, "we happened to pass by it. We got it but we missed you at the battle, buddy."

Jon saying something nice about me? Hmmm. That was strange. Jared spoke next a strange look of, could it be... embarrassment on his face?

redface "Yes... the damn thing gave me some trouble. I certainly could have used your help."

Wait a minute. Had I heard correctly? Jared suggesting the possibility that he wasn't utterly perfect about something? Something regarding combat?! My eyes narrowed in suspicion. Finally, my good friend Thaddeus spoke.

ninja "Well, at least it's dead now. Now I can get back to HQ and finish playing Halo."

With a moment of terrified shock I gasped and drew back several paces... Thad playing an X-Box game!? It's like some awful, evil dream! I did not know how or why, but explanations were moot at that point. All I knew was that whoever these people were, they were NOT my MSU brothers!

eek I asked them who they were... cleverly saying, "who are you?"

But their faces broke into snarls of inhuman rage and they lunged at me weapons drawn. I had no choice but to defend myself.

The pseudo-Jared attacked me first his sword slashing at my torso. I waited until the last possible second and teleported behind him. He overbalanced and fell into the reservoir, his armor dragging him quickly under the water. I knew that the real Jared could swim easily in full armor. But I had no time to ponder this as the fake Jon unholstered his pistol and leveled it at me. I saw, almost in slow motion as the autoloader boomed, the slide kicking brass over the side of the Facility. My mind reacted without thought, and to a wielder of the forces of the universe, thought means reality. A shield of magical energy caught the spiraling bullet just before it punched through my heart, and I pushed out a blast of raw force at this fake, toppling him over the edge of the Facility where he landed beside his spent shell casing with a sickening crunch. By the time I had dealt with the first two, the not-Thad was flying through the air towards me, katana flashing down in a glittering silver arc. Just at the apex of his jump, I released the lock of force on the still spinning bullet as it hovered inches from my chest and rocketed it at this copy of my friend, leaving a .45 caliber hole in its damned head. My foes vanquished, I started to take a breath of calm air, but as I did... I heard the sound of a footstep behind me. I whirled, ready to unleash purifying flame on next monster to approach me... when my angry eyes met the chocolaty brown ones of my beloved. I gasped again, seeing Haru there in the midst of the battle, still holding her favorite drawing pencil, her hypnotic smile beaming for me... and I hesitated. Just for second...

But it was enough.

Haru's smile turned into a fanged sneer as she flicked her pencil at me. In midair it transfigured into a wicked dart that buried itself deeply into my left lung.

The bastards had even copied my love...

evil Before I knew what was happening, flames hot enough to scorch black the masonry of the Facility snaked out of my hands and replaced this not-Haru's gleaming angelic scarf with one of fire. Even though I knew she was a fake, and not really my Haru, I could not suppress a choked, blood soaked exclamation as the wrath of my own magic disintegrated her. The monster let loose an eerie, bone-chilling scream that could never be made by any human voice until her throat and mouth joined the rest of her body on the ash-choked wind.

I collapsed to the ground with a moan of pain, and with a scream of my own, pulled the steel dart out of my lung. Frothy blood accompanied it, and I almost fainted from the pain. It had been a long time since I had had to use healing magic, usually leaving that task to my friend the Saint. But after concentrating hard I forced the cells and organs that were wounded to repair themselves until they were healed enough to allow me to function.

I couldn't believe what had just happened. There was no tentacle beast... but the bastards had known exactly what kind of monster I hated most, to make sure I rushed out as quickly as possible. There was no doubt about it.

Doppelgangers. Shapeshifters. Monsters with a faceless form who study human victims until they can take that form flawlessly, kill them, and take their place to facilitate the doppelganger's own evil ends.

There was a den of doppelgangers operating somewhere in Barton, or in Durem... possibly both. It seemed they were scheming to bring down the MSU... and like a f001, I had walked right into their trap.

Not wanting to use the complicated magic of teleportation in such a weakened state, and risk getting caught between for eternity, I climbed down from the Facility and ran as fast as my recently healed lung would allow me for the gates of Barton Town. But when I arrived, I learned that I had escaped the goblins to be caught by wolves, as the old saying goes. The gates were in chaos.

As I approached, it seemed that the entire city guard was at the gate. But I had no time for further thought. Upon sighting me, several of the soldiers charged. From their cries of rage, it didn't take me long to understand what had happened.

"There he is! Get him!"

"That's him. The mage who murdered that woman and escaped."

"Don't let him get away!"

Their hideous plan was still working. The fight at the Facility had been just a diversion. It had been an opportunity for another doppelganger to take my place before my return to make f001z of the rest of the MSU. The monster had apparently already killed someone. And, of course, they thought I was responsible.

I wondered if there were any spells that could be used with the power words, "oh s**t."

I screamed for them to listen to me... I told them about the doppelgangers, but they wouldn't listen. They charged harder, swords and spears at the ready.

I was weak from my wound in the battle, but if they thought I was too weak to slay them all where they stood with a wave of my hand they were sadly mistaken, and ashamed as I am to admit it, for just a moment the thought crossed my mind. But despite my rage and frustration, I knew that these poor soldiers were just doing their jobs, and knew no better. There was only one thing I could do.

For the record, vulnerable public: a lesson in the terminology of warfare.

If you ever see an MSU member traveling very quickly in the opposite direction of his foes, it's not called "running away." It's called a "tactical retreat."

I concentrated for a moment, removing the chains of gravity on my body, and took to the air. I flew away south... leaving the soldiers easily behind.

After I was several miles south of Barton, I landed in a vacant field and knew that until my name was cleared I couldn't return. And if my brethren weren't notified of this new menace, they might all join me... leaving all of Gaia to be covered by monsters. Could I just sit by and let that happen?

scream Power Word: Not a chance in hell...

I knew that since the only doppelgangers I hadn't encountered were ones of Saint b*****d and Phil, they were the only ones I could trust, until this was cleared up. I pulled from my pocket my Cover-ups electronic beacon transmitter and activated it. If Phil was still free to get to it, he would find this spot. I then transfigured a nearby leaf into a piece of paper. Using my finger as a pen, I scrawled a quick note telling Phil and Saint of the doppelgangers, their plan, and that I would likely have to disappear for a while. I sealed the letter with explosive runes, and cast a password spell in it. So that the runes would only deactivate with the correct answers to questions only Phil and Saint would know. (How much money has the MSU made on JonOhTopia fruit drinks? And Who would win in a fight, Yasunori Mitsuda or Orange Jell-O?)

Then, knowing I had to get as far away as I could before the Barton Town Guard found me... I took to the air again.

crying My exile had begun... and I didn't even have my Game Boy.

For months I wandered in the wilderness. Many adventures happened there, but I will not tell of them all here, as they have nothing to do with the rest of the story. But I did meet a group of eleven brothers from Canaan. They were on their way to Egypt and looked like they were starving. So I magically summoned enough food to keep them going for a while and told them they may have gotten a little lost. You know... it's the little things that make life worthwhile.

I slew many monsters during my banishment including, but not limited to: a zombie, a couple of orcs, an ogre, a few little gremlin lookin' thingies I'd never seen before with really long arms and big claws, a politician, (don't worry Phil... it was a current one) a cave troll, a dire badger, a snake, a mushroom, (don't ask) a skeleton, a raver, and the raver's pet gibbering mouther who spoke exclusively in Romanian.

But for all this my friends, I was little more than a vagabond, eeking out a painful existence in the untamed lands that surround our cluster of civilization. I must admit, faithful readers, that I was beginning to despair, but after much toil and hardship in the wilderness, I received word by mindlink with OMG Hat that Phil, Saint and Haru had successfully convinced the Gaia Council to clear my name, after much hard and hitherto thankless work. They also gave word to Astral, Jon and Thad, who quickly rooted out the doppelganger den and slaughtered the thrice-damned shapeshifters to a man... monster... thing.

So it is with much rejoicing and happiness that I return now from my exile. So fear not, vulnerable public, the MSU is once again at full strength. And the monsters who dare to show their faces in the greater Barton-Gambino-Durem metropolitan area shall once again learn to fear the flame of the Archmage.

In closing, lets review:

Doppelgangers are powerful magical monsters... but very rare, so if one of your friends or someone you know has started acting strange for no apparent reason, and you think they might be a doppelganger, please run through this checklist before you attempt to do anything about it.

1.) Is your friend ill, or suffering from depression?
2.) Did they recently have a death in the family?
3.) Are they on crack?
4.) Do they commonly eat paint chips?
5.) Have they been watching too much reality TV?
6.) Have they recently started suffering from the usual cognitive impairment or poor judgment issues commonly associated with playing video games on the X-Box?

If the answer to all of the above questions is no, and your friend is still acting strange, they might be a doppelganger.

If you think one of your friends is a doppelganger, don't touch it, and don't try to engage it in conversation. If you must engage it in conversation, try to avoid using phrases such as, "I know you're a doppelganger."

A little known monster slaying fact: The phrase, "I know you're a doppelganger," roughly translates into doppelganger language as "I know your secret and am going to blow your cover, so please kill me now in a horribly painful fashion."

Those of you out there who are mages (with a valid Shadow Government Spellcaster's License, of course) might try delving into the potential doppelganger's mind, to read its thoughts. However, this should only be done in an emergency where there is no other recourse. As with all monster encounters, slaying or detainment of said monster, for your own safety, should be left up to trained MSU professionals. This is our job, kids. To keep you safe. So don't engage any monster in combat, or any other activities that might annoy it (like say... contemporary popular music.) We can't help you if you're dead.

Remember, only you can prevent ignorance from killing you... and replacing you with an exact duplicate of yourself. wink