Within his bedroom, a large black and white wolf slept, dreaming of a future he believed he could never have. His green eyes were shut tight and he snored quietly in his deep slumber. Inside his dreams, he narrated his own story, of a world in which he was a hero.
'Legend tells of a legendary warrior whose kung fu skills were the stuff of legend.' Dressed in a simple robe and straw hat, he walked across China. 'He traveled the land in search of worthy foes.' Entering a local criminal bar, he sat down at a table without so much as glancing at the others. In spite of his presence, they continued their evil acts, watching him with sly eyes. Gathering around him, they glared menacingly.
"I see you like to chew. Maybe you should chew on my fist!" a gray wolf challenged the warrior, who was consumed in eating dumplings.
'The warrior said nothing for his mouth was full. Then he swallowed, and then he spoke.'
"Enough talk. Let's fight." Letting out a mentally created warrior cry, he shot up from the table, sending the enemy wolves flying with his power. Sending some one way and some another, he demonstrated his true power as a kung fu warrior.
'He was so deadly in fact that his enemies would go blind from exposure to pure awesomeness.' Doing a full split, he sent two enemies into the wall.
"I'm blind," one cried.
"He's too awesome," wailed the other.
"And attractive," a small female whispered, batting her eyelashes at him.
"How can we repay you?" another small wolf, male, asked.
"There is no charge for awesomeness or attractiveness," he replied, causing the female to squeal with delight at his generosity.
Bursting through the roof, he smashed his opponents this way and that.
'It mattered not how many foes he faced. They were no match for his audacity.'
A double streak of wolves howled with fury as they dove towards him, but with one look, he sent them reeling into the water below.
'Never before had a wolf been so feared and so loved. Even the most heroic heroes in all of China, The Furious Five, bowed in respect to this great master.'
Walking away from his destruction, the wolf looked up in the distance to the Jade Palace. With a thunderous crack, the five wolves landed on the ground and bowed respectfully. Gathering in fighting poses, they came immediately to his side.
"We should hang out," Monkey said.
"Agreed," Po, the dreamer, replied.
Switching into battle positions, they let out a battle cry together.
'But hanging out would have to wait cause when you're facing the ten thousand demons of Demon Mountain, there's only one thing that matters and that's-'
Soaring though he air with the Sword of Heroes, he slashed their weapons and they leapt into the fray, when midair, his dream changed.
"Po. Get up," Monkey said, but with the voice of Mr. Ping.
"You'll be late for work," Tigress said in a similar matter.
"Huh? What?" With a gasp and a thump, Po woke up, finding himself in his same bedroom under his same blanket. Opening his eyes, he yawned and dismally remembered he was not a kung fu warrior, but a simple noodle-making wolf.
"Po, get up," Mr. Ping called. Glancing longingly at his picture scroll of The Furious Five, his figurines, and individual picture scrolls. Sighing, he tried he tried to get up by hopping to his feet, but his heaviness wouldn't allow him. He was quite a hefty wolf, which sometimes embarrassed him and hindered his dreams of kung fu.
"Po, what are you doing up there?" Mr. Ping questioningly asked.
"Uh, nothing," he replied nervously. Trying once more, ge gave up and jumped up with a battle cry, focusing on his Furious Five figurines. "Monkey, Mantis, Crane, Viper, Tigress," he struck all their battle poses and roared for Tigress. Each wolf was name for their type of fighting. As he roared, a female wolf with peach-colored fur stared at him from watering her plants at her window.
"Po. Let's go. You're late for work," Mr. Ping called in an irked voice. He took his work very seriously.
"Coming," Po replied, throwing his throwing stars at his image of a glaring grey wolf. It's teeth were bared and seemed to mock him as he tried again and again before racing down the stairs and tumbling to a heap at the bottom.
Yelping in pain, he landed at the base of the stairs, muttering sheepishly, "Sorry dad."
"Sorry doesn't make the noodles," Mr. Ping replied accusingly. He carried some heavy noodle-making supplies in his mouth, mumbling as he padded across the restaurant. He was a small light gray wolf with dark patches and black eyes.
"What is it you were doing up there? All that noise…" he continued.
"Oh, nothing, uh, just had a crazy dream," he muttered, helping his father in gathering ingrediants.
"About what?" Mr. Ping asked.
"Huh?" Po yelped. He couldn't tell his father about his kung fu dreams.
"What were you dreaming about?" Mr. Ping elaborated, cutting up some vegetables.
"What was I-? Uh, I was dreaming about, uh, noodles," Po lied nervously.
"Noodles? You were really dreaming about noodles?" Mr. Ping asked skeptically.
"Uh, yeah, what else would I be dreaming about?" Po squeaked, accidentally leaving his throwing star in a bowl of noodles he gave to a customer. "Oh, careful. That soup is…sharp."
"Ooh. Happy day. My son, finally having the noodle dream," Mr. Ping gasped happily, running around with his tail wagging happily. "Oh, you don't know how long I've been waiting for this moment," he cried, tying a noodle apron around Po's middle. "This is a sign Po!" he cried.
"Uh, a sign of what?" Po asked.
"You are almost ready to be entrusted with the secret ingredient of my Secret Ingredient Soup, and then, and then you will fulfill your destiny and take over the restaurant, just as I took it over from my father who took it over from his father who won it from a friend in a game of mahjong," Mr. Ping pointed a paw at his father, grandfather, and original owner.
"Dad, dad, dad, it was just a dream," Po guiltily added.
"No, it was the dream. We are noodle folk. Broth runs through our veins," Mr. Ping proudly told him as he hopped on the counter and served his soup.
"But dad, didn't you ever, I don't know, want to do something else? Something besides noodles?" Po asked, wanting his father to understand he didn't want a destiny of noodles.
"Actually, when I was young and crazy, I thought about running away and learning how to make tofu," Mr. Ping chopped vegetables as he talked.
"So why didn't you?" Po asked longingly.
"Oh, because it was a stupid dream. Can you imagine me making tofu?" Mr. Ping asked, much to Po's disappointment. He laughed, "Tofu. No!" Slamming his knife into the board, he continued, "We all have our place in this world. Mine is here and yours is,"
"I know, it's here," Po sighed.
"No, it's at tables 2, 5, 7, and 12," Mr. Ping surprised Po, throwing noodle dishes to balance on his plump arms and forepaws. "Service with a smile," he added, putting a hat and a fake smile on his son's face.
Sighing longingly, Po looked up to the Jade Palace, where he could barely hear a beautiful howl.