Author's Note: Hey, people; isn't it great? This is PenGator3 here with Chapter Eight!

Dominique: Why the hell you opened a story with a poem?

Sanzo: It's April, so it's poetry month.

Dominique: THAT'S IT? POETRY MONTH? THAT'S SO GAY!

Sanzo: No it isn't; besides, I noticed that you have been running late again with the stories aren't you?

Dominique (growing nervous): Yeah... why?

Sanzo: YOU WERE LATE! (Sanzo gives him a good kick and sends Dominique in the air)

Dominique (in the air): AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Sanzo (looks up in the air as Dominique screams): Sorry that you all had to read this; my Domino here was running late and we can't tolerate tardiness. Before we get to the story, I want to start off by thanking Aquas DragoKnight with a response: first off, it's okay; you were just waiting for it to show up. Secondly, about the carol and the story here, that was a story and a nursery rhyme respectively I used to help cement the passing time frame from nightfall to daybreak; plus, I added some of Jim Jones' "We Fly High" with it as well so thanks. And lastly, the points of view of the heroes was just filler in order to kill some time and make the chapters look like the new episodes of Yin Yang Yo that Disney would have made but never did because of their greed (THANKS A LOT, MICHAEL FREAKING EISNER)...

Michael Eisner: You're welcome!

Sanzo: I was being sarcastic, you cheap bastard! (pulls out his gun, aims for Michael Eisner, and fires a shot at him in the arm)

Michael (groaning in pain as he holds on to his bleeding arm): YOU SHOT ME; YOU SHOT ME RIGHT IN THE ARM! HOW-

Sanzo (fires four more shots into Michael Eisner which kills him): Finally; now, where was I? Oh yeah, I also wanted to say that yes there will be villains; not just old ones, but new ones as well. You just need to wait; now, the disclaimer: Yin Yang Yo belongs to Bob Boyle and Bob alone; if it did belong to us, they would have made season three which would be super special awesome like "Yu-Gi-Oh: The Abridged Series."

Dominique (comes down from the sky): Ow! My ass, it's killing me!

Sanzo (chortled): How was your trip to Cloud City?

Dominique: FUCK YOU!

Sanzo: That's the spirit; now, let's go!


Is This Taken, My Man? ~Black Saturday (Morning)~

The cold atmosphere remained with its aura now gray and dingy like if it belonged to an impassively bored teenager victimized by a father's political aspirations since early childhood as a hovering overcast was lying over the fair Novi Finis City after last night's freak whiteout had come and gone for now. With the ash like snow left behind, it seemed settled that the fact of how it had carved a trail of obstruction from behind once more has proven to be duly incommodious. However, the only automobiles of all shapes, sizes, makes, and even models that drove through (and around) other streets, roads, turnpikes, avenues, bridges, tunnels, highways, freeways, and some off road were none other than just bulldozers and dump trucks that plowed throughout the piled snow and cleared most of it away. As everything had already just remained the same as it was like only yesterday, people would still find it typical to not find anything out of the ordinary, at least not after that dreaded night from long ago. There were still people going to work either by car, train, boat, plane, or even on foot; also, there were folks who worked around or at their own homes and some who were unemployed looking through newspaper ads for some jobs. However, that overcast was going to darken up real soon for even though that a storm wasn't going to bring any kind of precipitation, it was going spell the things that have yet to come like the Ghost of Christmas Future.

True to its feelings, the situation was finding itself at a local repository which was supposed to serve as the first rung of it all happenings. Like most of those depots in the existing world of the living, this one was surrounded by many buildings: some were old, others were new, a few were borrowed, and even one was blue; irregardless, it was as large as a prestigious university. Though a brick wall was present along with a gate to keep things in check for what goes in and out of there, there was also a high fence within the repository that mainly housed a rainbow of large shipping containers made of corrugated weathering steel that had a length of roughly over half a chain long; be that as it may, much of them stood on top of one another. The sound of heavy machinery doing its purpose had filled the atmosphere busily in contrast to the blank ambience within the outside world; overall, it was a sight to see in an urban jungle made up of concrete pavement right where the car was parked in. As it had already balked at the depot, the owner of his fastback was on the prowl.

And then there was an officer [and a gentleman (rolled into one)] named Henry, with his revolver in his grip seconds after biding its time in the owner's holster for one of those days. "POW, BANG, ZOOM!" the gun had ranged out thrice and called the shots as bullets flew across the distance while its sounds were heard straight to the moon; better yet, it had found its way in the once living targets that had now became the lifeless victims. Blood had sprayed onto the container and leaked onto the floor, like if Armageddon had occurred and brought a Category 5 test on the nation's levees; although a sad sight to see, they were all far from innocent for that their weapons were indications that something was hidden from public for an undetermined amount of time, practicing questionable ethics. The indigo hare searched two of the cadavers, finding another revolver and claiming new ownership of it while taking note of a crowbar but leaving it alone; as a matter of fact, the third had an assault rifle causing him to place both handguns in his pocket and commandeer the armament with his own two hands. Henry moved forward again as he stood up from the body and started to traverse the repository with suspicion only to find another gunslinger spotting him and taking aim at its target while standing above him on top of the two containers like a sentry; however, the former shot the latter dead before vice versa. Nevertheless, the indigo bunny continued on and had paid attention to the soaring heavy machinery walking a straight line over the container like if it were a very important test that would decide the fate of the outcome; in short, any faux pas that would be taken in any direction would even go so far to spell out an expiry (even with the letter S) for the readers' deuteragonist. Soon, as one of them had reached the end of phase by clearing the last row, it shifted into reverse gear and started to go back down the row again in the opposite direction; in turn, the others had also done the same to pay their minds to it. Now, the coast was clear for Henry move on and he did… several times, each of them like common courtesy was executed throughout the crosswalks of life and people safety; in fact, when another gunman had just spotted the former, the latter spent so much time trying to take aim at its target he was crushed by the moving wheels before a shot could even be fired. Nonetheless, the indigo hare paid no mind and continued on to the next side, free of such large vehicles right before blasting away another watchman that had stood atop another container.

Finding himself in there felt like a labyrinth of questionable proportions due to the fact that Henry was still inside the depot, albeit roomier yet chocked full of more containers. To make matters worse, five of the guards had spotted the indigo rabbit and started treating him as an unwanted guest while drawing out their weapons and taking aim; although the latter managed to finish off two of them quickly, the commandeered assault rifle had ran out of ammunition with not even a spare round in sight to reload with. As a result, Henry was forced to take shelter from the gunfire near a metal container, hiding himself out of the sights of the remaining three that had started moving closer just to search and destroy the former. The indigo bunny had quickly remembered that he had stored both of his handguns in his pockets and started to pull them back out; afterwards, he reappeared from the hiding spot and started to blast the entire trio away. Like always, Henry walked over to one of the carcasses and placed his revolvers back inside, prying away another assault rifle from its cold dead hands and claiming ownership; nevertheless, he had moved on once again. By then, the indigo hare had found a way out of the forested containers that carved such an irritating maze and edged forward on his own two feet; now, he found himself in another part of the repository filled with a few wheeled dollies, dozens of closed trailers, plenty of wooden crates, and a score of alert gunmen waiting for the former to show up.

Like usual, when things had just gone bad more trouble follows as Henry fired the assault rifle at the armed gangsters, mowing down at least nearly several of them before running out of ammo once again; now, he was forced to take cover behind three of crates nearby. Just like last time, the indigo rabbit pulled out his pistols once again and prepared to charge onward into the crowd once again (possibly for the last time); but then, a stream of luck has beamed over the man in the form of reinforcements, men (and women) in blue just like him as if they were escorting a very important person on a motorcade with lasers and chrome plated wheels with its rims that stretched to about twenty-four inches in diameter while accompanied by three hundred lovers led by the person's spouse holding machine guns with the words 'NIGGA WHAT' inscribed. All the other gunslingers were either shot dead or have surrendered to the other policemen and policewomen alike; now, it was time for Henry to step out of hiding and move onwards as planned, searching whatever was hidden within the depot that made the gunmen step out of line and aid his fellow man. Walking throughout the last of the entire repository with sirens in the background couldn't help but shake the fact that out of all the time that the indigo bunny put his life on the line, this was nothing compared to the time he nearly died yesterday; at this rate, he was a lot like Yin and Yang put together, albeit older, responsible, and more adjusted to life. Then, something had caught Henry's sight that had put him on guard for whatever else was going to unfold next and started running: it was a snow white van and it was stuck in between the fence and the trailer altogether. "Freeze, you're under arrest!" the indigo hare shouted as he pointed the revolvers directly at the windshield of the automobile with only but a highbrow look; as a result, the doors had opened and both the driver and the passenger came out of there having followed the command of exiting the vehicle under the pain of death.

Then, the attention was now currently focused on those other males whom although they pledged the same allegiance they had both shared compared to the pledged allegiance to the flag that united the states and to the republic for which it stands as one nation under God and indivisible with liberty and justice for all, they had their share of differences. First, for starters, the former was a lanky blond chimpanzee with a buzz cut of the average army veteran while the latter was a big bald bull with a scratch on his face that crossed from between his left eyebrow and eyeball through the top of his nose to below his right eyelid. Secondly, the driver had only a golden chain wrapped around his neck whereas the passenger had another scar on his neck instead. The blond wore a clothing set of an indigo tee shirt, some light blue pants, and some sandals with a matching strap while the bald one wore white yet was far from being pure like a beneficiary.

With a slap of the handcuffs on their wrists seconds later, the duo was led from the van to the paddy wagon where the officers got them inside and sat them both down. The chimpanzee grunted, "we're going to be in hot water with the boss here." "Hell yeah!" the bald bull agreed, "I don't know how the cops found out, Miner; we had it all covered." "It must be to do with the blacklist boys; they work the warehouses," the blond known as Miner then said to his partner in crime. A blue yak constable pointing his gun at them and spoke, "hey, you two shut it." "Alright, alright," the hulking figure grunted, "Jeez, you're acting like such a pain in (jack)ass." "We won't tell you again; now, shut up..." the yak reacted with impatient of the growing conversation. The chimpanzee obeyed, "Okay then!" "That's it!" the yak screamed in a fit of a rage and started pistol-whipping the two, "I'm going to kill you the two of you when we go downtown!" "Well you might want to file a warrant for that because I didn't drag my freaking butt over to the station to listen to some goddamn tirade from you and/or the dimwits, let alone with a sore throat so sit down, shut up or I'll hightail this van so fast y'all three are going to wish that you'd have all stayed quiet; now, do any of all read me?" the driver of the paddy wagon, a vermillion bird, yelled at them all to make sure that the trio got the message from him. One of them even peeped the response in fear, "yes, sir." "Good," the driver said to three altogether as the person behind the wheel had regained his composure, "that's the last thing we need for today."

"Attention Wong: call to the intersection of Renoir Turnpike and Matisse Boulevard, there is a serious disturbance; shots have been fired and armed response are in their way, over…" a radio channel blared as Henry approaches his fastback to answer back. The indigo rabbit picked up the microphone and had spoken into it, "Wong here; show us dealing your last, over." "Command received," a response that the radio has described, "the address is showing 'The Jared der Schwarzschild Museum: The Galleria of Revelry' at the intersection of R Turnpike and Matisse Boulevard in the Renaissance District; please, approach with caution." "All received; ETA, four minutes," Henry responded back as he got (out of his dreams and) back into his car, now hell-bent to reach that location; now that he remembered that his brother was also in trouble, not even the former would want to risk more trouble following so it turned into a race against the clock.


Meanwhile, everything was starting to get shot straight into the depths of Hell in a mere hot flash. All that Yang could hear was his own heart beating against his ribcage as he sprinted down the road not taken away from the very museum that once was very peaceful. He couldn't even hear the sounds of the screams coming from the civilians all around him, the rubber wheels from the speeding cars that burned as it had left trails of blackness behind themselves, or even the louds roars of gunfire as he tried to run due to the havoc. Instead of all this ringing any bells, all that the blue bunny could hear was his heart beating in his head louder and louder by each second, his ears were flopping against the back of his head as he ran with no destination in mind whatsoever. Yang could feel the acute sting of the bullets flying through the air like missiles in the middle of a typical conflict amongst the warring states. Bombs were flying, brothers were dying, people were crying, and even politicians were lying; the only thing missing was the part where cities were exploding but that turned out to be not the case. He knew that not only they were hot on their heels like dogs to steak meat, he could not even last this much longer, let alone live that long; besides, if there was one truth that would prevail then it would be this: no one lives forever.

Here was this Woo Foo Warrior, who wasn't supposed to be afraid of anything, and somehow, the blue hare was running for his life like if fate had gave him a run for his money to risk life and limb altogether. Yang could feel tears stinging his eyes and he squeezed them shut in an attempt to make them disappear; however, it would make up the fact that trouble was overflowing with only death and destruction in its wake. They ran over the edge of forever and down to very his face, falling onto the broken pavement while the sound of gunfire now replaced the sound of his heartbeat, and he wished it hadn't. The blue rabbit had refused to open his eyes and to take another glance at the museum which he was running away from but he could hear it all around him knew that it had indicated that they wanted something: the terracotta soldier in his possession. Even though that this kind of an artifact would have been better off back into the hands of its rightful owners, the latter were even a lot far from being innocent. Now that the die was cast at a roll that would burn down a bridge to the point of no return, Yang had no choice but to run; soon, his eyes sprang open in time to see that a jade automobile was slowing down towards him only narrowly missed his own body by inches. It was so close to the blue bunny he could see two men with the venom in their eyes that could kiss the former goodbye. Feeling his field of vision catch sight of them all, his fists grew to twice his average size as he screamed to the top of his lungs with these words, "PAWS OF PAIN!" With an overwhelming burst of energy, Yang punched the car in the midair before it came back landing down on the sunroof as glass shattered everywhere from around the affected car; the path was cleared once again.

All that the blue hare could think about were the girls in his life that he had cared about ever since that very ill-fated day. First was Yin, his sister, his annoying twin sister that he loved so dearly he would view as the literal counterpart to his appearances, personality, and everything else that they all shared. No matter how fights they got into, Yang actually cared for her as if she was a potted plant that was bathed in water and sunlight at the same time on a regular daily basis. Next, there was Suzie, his adoptive complement, that his older brother cared for very deeply just like he did with his twin sister altogether. The purple rabbit always wanted to look up to seeing a brighter outlook on life more often, even when the times got darker than black every now and then once in a while. And then there was Lena, his girlfriend, whom Yang placed such even greater love into her since the past three years on a month to remember where April showers brought May flowers. Though separated by society and by the blue harvest that housed the men of destiny that got a burning heart on the battlefield, deep down they all wanted someone to lean on.

But today was different; it was like that the people chasing down the blue bunny would stop at nothing this time, determined to take back what was "rightfully" theirs, and wanting nothing more than just that and also revenge. And if that wasn't enough, they wanted to make sure that once they got their hands on Yang they would spare no expense to have him be taught such a painful lesson. The only option that was left for him was to just keep running away like he, his sister, his father, and (arguably) his friends and their families always had been doing since those three years that have passed them all by like an arrow. Normally when it came to fighting the likes of the blue hare's most hated enemies the former was used to the latter group being armed with next to nothing in their grasp; but, this was too much to handle for anyone that knew about hand-to-hand combat, especially when the enemies in question are holding firearms. Regardless, only one thing was certain: never bring a knife to a gunfight and if it were true that Yang's bamboo sword would count as a knife then chances are that the odds of winning were as slim as a tapeworm in the belly of a beast [named Darlene who used it to solve a weight problem at the cost of her life so she would fit in a size four dress (which she only wore to her own grave)]. Needless to say, even if that cowardly façade was set aside in an instant, it wouldn't even do forasmuch for such a 'great' hero to the fair readers perusing this story in their time of such great leisure.

In short, it turned such a courageous blue rabbit that treated fighting as an orgasm better than his manustupration in a morning shower into such a cowardly hedgehog with a dilemma that hurts the ones they become closer to in the middle of a freak rainstorm around the month of September. The fear that was creeping into his soul was not only of his own death but of how it would affect those he could leave behind so aside from running Yang started to think once again; however, the only thing that popped into his very mind once again was Yin. Whether or not the thought of his twin sister was either worrying or bothering him, fate was about to use this very thinking to deal him the cards that would be played to deal such a crushing blow.


In either case, Horace was still in that same building on the phone with someone just like he was since only yesterday and just like that same yesterday in question, that someone on the other side of the phone line was at the police station. For some logical reason whatsoever, his partner was nowhere in his sight within the very room in question; even though Ritter was around, it was obvious that it was more or less knowledgeable for him to stay out for a while. Perhaps, it had something to do with the fact that what happened last night was not even part of the master plan in question and that it was to keep the latter from making things go from bad to worse; or, it was for another reason unknown to everyone else.

"Well, did it work?" the swine shouted on one end of the phone as he slammed his fist on the table with moderate force that shook the room a bit, "well, did it?" "It worked; punk ass faggot 'Uncle Antlers' doesn't even suspect even a goddamn thing, yet," another person on the phone line answered the fat guy. After a brief trice, Horace started to calm himself down and countered back on the lighter side, "alright then, Keenan; since those smugglers from District Liber are going to be here, they're going to transfer you someplace else nearby for your further arraignment thanks to yours truly. In addition, there is a plan to fix up what happened last night to keep everything a secret for a little longer; but, I recommend that you keep your mouth shut for a while now that the mission is in the next phase." "Yes sir," Keenan cawed with agreement, "I need to hang up anyway; Commissioner Scots is about to bring his gay little ass over here just to end the conversation. Goodbye…" The falcon on the other side of the phone line had hung up and so did the swine that had done so just right after; once again, a long trice had passed just before the latter had changed his demeanor from the one that played a role in an earlier conversation on the phone with the latter.

"Ritter, get your ass in here right now!" Horace screamed with anger as the rat went inside the doorway within the room fearfully. Ritter sputtered towards the swine, "is there anything you want me to do for you, sir?" "As a matter of fact, now that you mention it there is; better yet, I have a job for you," Horace answered as he then held up a picture of Susie and Yin, "you remember these brats from? I want you to do something about them so they wouldn't be linked to us at all!" "Yes sir!" the golden rat obeyed apprehensively as he then scurried out of the very room he was called into in the first place.

Somehow, it starts to lead up to the bathroom where those mentioned bunny girls from earlier were since that very last night. The purple one just was sleeping quietly in the arms of the pink one alongside over the dirty floor since that silent and holy night, sleeping in heavenly peace like the infant child she was. All of the sudden, the door flew open very loudly as it brought the very two up and awake to find someone at the egress still covered in black; despite this, the shadow was actually a mortal just like Yin and Suzie but with a darker shade of morality making up for the fact that both of its own eyes were glowing bright red. The shadowy mortal grabbed the purple hare by the hand, already aware that she was still in chains just like her pinker sibling who started to stand up and follow. The younger one started to put up a struggle with the mysterious one but received a slap that brought her tears, making the older one yen for witnessing the stranger's retribution for such callous manhandling. Still, they were taken and no one spoke up for them at all just like all the other times: first they came for the chicken before the egg and no one spoke up because of annoyance, next was the time when they came for the tree stump and his family yet no one spoke up for them because of a(nti)pathy, and then they came for the ogres and no one spoke up for them because of grief. No matter what had happened just right now it was just plain simple as that: first, it was just ten little niggers and then there were none (or better yet, and then there were fewer).


Now, there was a small house that was surrounded in an open field of whiteness within the fair Novi Finis City standing only two floors tall with high and mighty color. The abode was bombarded in a bright fill of big brick bloodshot blush. The hip roof sloped down slightly on all four corners in a steep pitched gable. Many of the wholesome bay windows were either closed or obscured by blinds while the sunshades hovered over them without even obscuring the viewing of the great outdoors from the inside point of view. The black driveway had a blue hardtop sitting on the fertile foundation even though there was a garage next to the home. In addition, there were at least two people just out in the cold within the small front yard.

This time, the attention was now outside that very house currently focused on those two males, a chicken named Coop and an antelope called Burton whom although they pledged the same allegiance they had both shared compared to the pledged allegiance to the flag that united the states and to the republic for which it stands as one nation under God and indivisible with liberty and justice for all, they had their share of similarities and differences. For starters, the former wore a red puffy jacket with a hood while the latter had retained his aquamarine jacket to defend themselves from the very cold of the February being washed away. Though the two of them have both sported their long scarves and retained their decent pairs of pants, their boots were worn on their very feet to shield them from pneumonia hiding within the ash like snow.

The reason for their predicament was easy to point out from it all: the two also had shovels and a bag of rock salt in their possession; in short, they were outside shoveling the ash like snow from the very sidewalk. Because of last night's snowstorm, it was bound to find its way on their since there was plenty of snow to be going around; though it was fun for the kids that enjoyed it, the adults were growing displeased with it altogether. Even though that construction vehicles had initially done their part of removing it off the streets, roads, turnpikes, avenues, bridges, tunnels, highways, and freeways there would always be the constant threat of another one of nature's dark side: black ice. It would even be found at the very crosswalks (of life) under the pain of death whenever someone had traversed over some element that was once water in its checkered past. And so, it was all the resolve that it was needed to get the snow off the walkways people had used daily to prevent the accidents that would ostensibly befall. This would prove to be even reasonable since the situation had a nasty way following the laws set by a guy named Murphy just to prove a point that luck is ephemeral.

Basically, it was the readers' typical experience with the ash like snow: Burton sang while shoveling the snow off the sidewalk with a straightforward smile, while Coop peppered the rock salt (a)round with a highbrow glower. What one took for fun the other took for something else anything but fun or boring; after all, the latter had a reason for that dirty look that was shown but it wasn't aimed at or taken out on the former. Unbeknownst to the antelope, the chicken thought about the youth that had been lost long ago when the latter was faced with the opportunity to battle Eradicus (possibly for one last time); but, just like all the others that fought, hopes and dreams were shot down like if they were clay pigeons. Their killers, their own family, had inadvertently ran the remaining innocence down(right) into the ground like two pies to the face and one in a field somewhere in a farm; in Coop's case, it was his own mother. Though it was justified for the sake of protection, it was an irrational moment that everyone had, if ever, experienced: many people perished, the griffon destroyed, great tears shed, reddening anger growing, opponents chased away, world making sense, childhoods prematurely dead, trust eroded quickly, and memories scarring everyone. Happenstance, most of the once beloved Woo Foo Warriors (in A Little Less Training) still lived on, not just in the hearts broken ablaze and/or in the minds lost in a twist but as the people that are still living, albeit cold and/or distant; of course, this is what almost happened to the chicken had a few intervened. And so, it was time for Coop to move on his life by starting over.

At last, the (com)mission was finally all done as the crosswalk from home to the outside world became free of the ash like snow once more, alacritous to be treaded on without the pain of death pulling the soles of earth down like gravity. Putting down the shovels that escorted the whiteness into neatly aligned accumulations and wrapping up the bags that salted the iciness to a melt, the two had sat down at the porch with hopes for rest; even better, their mother stepped out of the door with hot chocolate in her possession, speaking to them as warmly as their beverages were brewed, "here's some nice hot chocolate for doing a good job with clear the snow away today, boys." "Gee, thanks mom!" Burton said as he received his with joy beholden, "I like hot chocolate." "Why do you have some too, Coop?" she offered as that drink still remained warm like that short colloquy. The chicken also took his hot chocolate gently and drank it slowly like if time was being stiller than an episode with a boy's encounter with an oversized automaton; afterwards, he said to her, "I appreciate it."


Now, it was back to the home where Dave resided with his fellow beings in that deserted town; however, instead of the boy (tree stump in question) who has lived being inside the bathroom or bedroom, his father was in his bedroom remaining in his stead. The ceiling was suspended ten feet from the ground having not even a main source of light in this room like usual ceilings had. The background, better yet known as the walls that served as the foundation to the vast bedroom, were blank just like the snow that came and gone last night ever since. The flooring was also bared, only baked and broiled with terracotta to match the ceiling and the walls. A window was present yet it was closed for it didn't even have the crystal shield to protect the occupant(s) inside from the elements outside. There was also only one trundle bed fit for him; even though it could hold up to two people, he was alone most of the time in his room. The only way that the void growing from within would be filled was feasibly simple: there was a little beige in his hands including cerulean pages all written with dark ink. The father was scrolling throughout the pages that had been written in until there was a one that was blank and unused; soon, he started taking up his biro to jot down what had happened so far.

"To my dear sweet Amandine," his first words have been written as the writer(s) in question think up of what to say in there before indenting below those five words that were jotted down, "I just want to say it was a lot nice to be having myself writing to you even when you're not even here anymore since long ago. It seems that after all the times that I have spent writing to you for a very long time I'm beginning to run out of things to say in there for some reason. Though I sensed that our beloved daughter is not with you as we speak, I have also yet to see her again for some reason at all. Basically, it's somehow my way of saying that I still miss you but I can't come back to you yet at all and that I probably made a mistake for thinking the other way. If you are asking me that 'how many years have passed since I saw you last?' question, then I would give out that 'oh, maybe about fifteen years ever since' answer; in this case, she must be about eighteen years old by now."

"Of course, this is probably my fault for this predicament since the turning of the circle; better yet, it was more like the war when our girl was taken. On some rainy summer day, I decided to give up on finding her and maybe kill myself by drowning in a waterfall so I can be reunited with you. To tell you the truth, I did fell off from the waterfall supposedly to my very death to begin with; but, there was actually a twist: somehow I have managed to survive the collapse nevertheless. At first, I saw your very face beaming with pity as if for some reason it had worked; however, it turned out I was regaining consciousness and I started to see what actually turned out to be Eileen breathing life back into me. Afterwards, I started to forget about my family a little bitand talked to her instead about it; soon, I started to feel grateful for what she did. I wish I haven't easily forgotten about you like that ever since," the fatherly tree stump wrote as he had found himself at the end of the page he was writing on and turned over to another page in order to continue on with his diurnal composition.

Afterwards, the man resumed with his writing by saying, "Now, I did say that I wished that I haven't easily forgotten about you like that ever since the day I met the ephemeral Eileen; why is that you may easily wonder about, my dear sweet Amandine? Well, it is simple: when I remarried, I felt like that I had become a whole new person; I had found hope in myself, a lease on life, a new family, and even a new wife. We always been content with the happiness within one another: she finds beauty in even the most simplest of things while I appreciated them. They say that love is the most subtle force in the world so I was searching for it; in fact, it was more like the pursuit of happiness itself existing in the lives of everyone. Up 'til now, I never took it for granted since that day. Maybe my only sin that I have committed was adultery and that it has started to hold me back; but, life goes on."

"And now my own sons, Chip and Dave, they're becoming distant. Chip should have been better off becoming the frontrunner of the Greenwald family but he is satisfied with demoting himself from brother to his cousin instead. As for Dave, he barely even talks to me at all to begin with but instead talks to his mother in my stead but I understood him anyway because of all he has been through ever since. I really don't like my eldest son's attitude of showing discontent, especially the time when he beat up his own brother for what we tried to do for the both of them. Even Dave himself is starting to regret this. So, it's not that I don't want to be with him; I just - well can't say no more is what I need to say for now. It seems I have now instantly lost a few more things to say right now because of all this that has happen so far since a few years ago."

"With sincere regrets I leave to you dearly on a daily basis, I bid you adieu with such grave concerns," the tree stump said writing it down as he continued with the indented paragraph on another page next to it, "In short, I have done everything to prove myself worthy twice to show that my existence wasn't merely in vain nor was your bereavement but it seem its beyond hope once again; I fear that the battle may be raging on but that the war is lost so now I beg of your forgiveness and the mercy from the heavens where you reside in your eternity. Best Wishes, Your Husbandly Newlywed, Halliburton Ulrich Greenwald."

With a close of the book, the writer, thy named Halliburton hides it under the bed like if it were a skeleton in the closet named after its first love. Afterwards, he starts to turn the knob on the door and opens it to leave the very room he had resided in (for now).


This instability of the readers' humble raconteur brings themselves back to the home of the goblin king's son; however, instead of being in his room with his muse and flame called his beautiful wife, he was inside the nursery with his mother and child. The reason for the very situation occurring was feasibly simple like a textbook case known by heart in the mind of a lawyering phoenix who was right: the child in question had eyes that were irrigated with tears once again; however, instead of whimpering hunger it was uncomfortable disgust. Jobeaux's child laid on the changing table as her father was standing by as he watching his mother doing something so obvious: changing a diaper.

The items had already been gather before the whole thing had been started as it had includes another diaper, some wipes, ointment, and a change of clothes just included. As the lilac infant lain on a flat surface with a towel underneath them a fresh clean diaper was opened as it laid beneath the soiled one, keeping the surface clean as a whistle. After remove the straps of the diaper with baby's legs down, her grandmother took the front flap of the diaper and lay it down as it was unfolded towards her while making sure that the baby's bottom is still on the back flap of the diaper. The child's father gently grabbed her ankles with one hand and raised them off the diaper yet the lower back stayed; fortunately, he removed the soiled diaper to the side, getting the stuff out of the way while his mother, her grandmother, cleaned up the lilac goblin, keeping the mess to a minimum and out of reach of the baby and her feet. Jobeaux taken a baby wipe and cleaned the area where her daughter was soiled, wiping it front to back in order to reduce chances of possible infections as he checked that all skin folds and such are cleaned. The baby's fundament was still up while it took about under several wipes for a really messy diaper to be cleaned, placing the used ones on top of the soiled diaper that was just removed. Then, the dirty diaper was folded in half by the child's grandmother to keep the soil and wipes inside while her son finished the job, using the tabs to make it all into one tight bundle.

The lilac being now laid gently onto the new diaper as the flap was brought forward and taped to the back around the waist, making sure it's not too tight while the ruffle was out around the leg to prevent leaks. The grandmother picked her up a placed a knitted shirt over the girl and cooed, placing the baby in the crib safely as her grandchild's father cleaned the changing area while pretreating as necessary before proceeding to launder. Jobeaux placed the disposable diaper into a small plastic bag, seal, and place it outside in a garbage can; then, he had put everything away: creams, lotions, and baby oils were put somewhere safe. The child's father kept all the diaper changing supplies where it would be able to find them quickly and easy each time it would be needed. The old one and the teenaged one both washed their hands thoroughly before wiping the baby's hands with another wipe, sanitizing them with ointment that is formulated for sensitive skin. The lilac goblin then fell asleep in heavenly peace, her father and grandmother dotting on it with a silent voice from the star(s) of water with love; but, they knew that her sleep needed tranquility so the two tiptoed out of the room.

"Alright, now that you already know how to take care of the child, I'm sure that I can trust you with such a lifelong task; it's been two months since Little Lucy came into this world," the motherly goblin stated as she was referring to the child inside the nursery with Jobeaux. Lucy's father complied, "yes, I know that ma." "It's also been very long since that Zweig had banished us from associating with that city folk neighbors from nearby," his mother expounded with slight melancholy, "times like this reminds me of the Rich Slide when everyone barely had enough to go around; even if we find something glittery and whatnot, I doubt that anyone would try to trade with us or anything. And your father is sick with those damn tonsils of keeping him from talking clearly not that he spoke of thing not as much; plus, my eyesight is started to fail me so we may not live that much longer. At least I can look forward to seeing you and Annie sharing that bond with your child as you three all grow up into adults just like yours truly and your father for example and start a family." "That's what they are for, bonds," Jobeaux merely replied to his mother's brief soliloquy as he started to turn around slowly so he can leave. As the gingerly male started to walk away, he then heard the matriarch say to him with (luke)warm reckoning, "in case you need me again, I'll be there for you."

"Okay then, ma," Jobeaux said to his mother as the former started to get further away from the latter very slowly, "I'll be fine anyway for now." Somehow on the other hand, they could feel that no matter how okay any of the two said about such a basically current situation, it was said out of a mutual culpability between them. After a mere brief moment, she too started to leave the hallway for there was nothing else to be said at all for now since her dear son had just left the area.


Now the mountainside stood where it had remained all this time since that very last night in question where the clouds poured whiteness onto the earth with such a great fury. Even though that the snow remained as it stood up for only a yard, there was a sign that bore a pair of footprints that belonged to someone (or something) had traveled towards the lake; in fact, there were two pairs of them. Regardless of the very ostensible wintriness that bounded itself to have every February washed away, it didn't stop what was going on.

Those so said footprints in question actually belonged to the two ogre outside in the cold, Judi and her daughter Tillman, whom although were female, shared the same kind of eyes, had the same color of skin on their bodies and the change within and beyond (or lack thereof) they had their share of differences. First, for starters, the former stood tall like an (overlooking) adult like while the latter was only but a small child. Secondly, Judi wore lipstick on her mouth whereas Tillman had not. The adult had horns counting up to a three dog night on her heads while her spawn possessed only but one instead; after all, one is the loneliest number that anyone can do. More descriptively, the frilly pink garb from the last two years ago was all that the former had on herself at all but the younger counterpart was clothed only in bathwater to protect the (ephemeral) artlessness.

There was a good reason for this being an occurrence: Judi was giving her daughter Tillman a bath as everything got ready in advance, alleviating the need to run around while gathering all the gear together. Using a black cauldron to store the water as the temperature was being checked with an elbow and a wrist the water was comfortably warm to touch but not hot enough to scald for it was already heated; also, it was lined with a cup in hand so that there was something to rinse off any soap. The child's head remained out of the water to avoid that sinking feeling as its mother used a cup to get the baby wet and a soft washcloth to begin washing the baby with only a gentle scrub and a wash down, getting between all the little creases and under the neck where moisture seem to collect. Then Judi washed her hair, leaning Tillman back and gently massaging the water into the scalp before using the cup to pour water over the latter's head. Before rinsing the child down, the mother made certain that the temperature of the incoming water is not too hot as she also made sure any soap used is off as the bath was being finished. Tillman was placed in a towel being careful to cover her body from the cold, dried gently in the skin folds so that no excess moisture is left there as much as possible 'til quickly nothing remained; afterwards, Judi replaced the diaper and dressed the latter in clean clothes, shirt, skirt, and ribbon altogether.

The motherly ogre picked her daughter up in these strong arms and the former expressed her joy by cuddling her. "Now, there's my Tillman all squeaky clean; yes you are, yes you are," Judi cooed and coddled Tillman lightheartedly with genuine comfort; even so, the former pulled up the latter's shirt to the point where the midriff showed its bared umbilicus and blew on the stomach, emitting the sound of raspberries as it earned itself a child's laughter. Afterwards, the adult ogre had picked her spawn as the latter rested on the former's head and they started to return from where they had just came from by following the path of the footprints that had took them both down by the riverside. Pretty much since the very day of the toddler's parturition, Tillman was the only child that her mother Judi had truly warmed up to; even though that the former was merely far from her teens by the magic number of three, there was a(n unbreakable) bond between the two of them. The grownup mother took a little more joy in her life when it came to the fact that she was with her youngest child, sharing the same blue gender no less. Most of all, their mutual happiness was so great it even left a disheartened writer admirably speechless (and wordless).

At last, the two ogres had managed to reach the cave that was called their home (away home) where Roger was present, still standing guard to make sure no one knows where they were lest they be discovered. Judi sat her daughter Tillman back on ground zero as a show of command to go back inside the cave and wait for a while so that a private conversation between the former and the (former's) husband alone. Needless to say, whatever those very words that were about to be exchanged amongst the adults, it would prove to be of good reason why their youngest child was sent to the cave [and why their son was not around to hear any of this (though it wouldn't been due to some pugnacious infringement inflicted from long ago)].


Finally, Lena was still at home while donning the azure housecoat from only yesterday as it covered her whole body; yet, her spots were still there as she coughed hoarsely. Though the illness was showing little signs of ebbing from the poor girl, they were also showing little signs of development; in short, a stasis was in progress that was making it a living hell. If there were any words to describe such a predicament like that, then "freedom" would always be around the corner like fries amongst a surrendering crowd of cheese eating (porch) monkeys; however, in the matter of the canine cub on the other hand, another word would pop up: pain.

Irregardless, Lena was now at the kitchen inside the home that been around for her place of residence since long ago and it was typically equipped with everything people can find in an average kitchen(ette). Here was an electrical stovetop oven that relied on perfect timing and setting at the same moment to cook any kind of well-deserved meal for even a party of five. Then there was a watery sink with so many dishes inside it even piled up in a tower standing up to a foot as if the rest was directly touching Davy Jones' locker by five below. Over here was but only a small refrigerator that was fully stocked with whatever anyone could find inside it to just snack on for the purpose of killing some time (in cold blood). Up top were some run of the mill cabinets that stored clean dinnerware made from all kinds of materials and canned goods where more foodstuff were packaged in such compact items. At five below rested a black microwave on a countertop about a yard away from the sink next to a four-slotted toaster that was nearby and also away from the sink. In the very center rested a dining table with only two chairs standing by at opposite sides.

As the girl found herself in the kitchen, only one thing caught her attention and one thing alone: it was a piece of notebook paper taped to the refrigerator door; sequentially, she took it off there and read it with curiosity, "Lena, I notice that you have now found yourself alone like always ever since you got sick more often and as always I don't blame you. I'll be out working late tonight; money is extremely tight now and I'm not sure where the next kaching is going to come from. Winter has been weighing down some pressure on crops and people ain't even interested in taking a glance at it. I will be home very soon just to check on you and make sure that you're still alive and well like always as any father should. I got some orange juice for you yesterday and there's also some soup in the microwave."

After the canine cub had finished reading it altogether, the note in those two hands were crumpled up into a back and then sent to the trashcan where it'll spend the rest of its natural life going through Hell and high water before returning to the earth like the dust which had once came from. It was pretty much obvious that Lena read it as if these very words were being seen as a blasphemous travesty, a values dissonance that had conflicted the feelings of only yesterday with a postmodern today. Perhaps, the malaise that just followed had put her up as collateral like if a vote to keep the foxy girl in the house devolves into a mock slave auction; after all, the sickness was genuine. Or maybe it was punishment for the father rejecting the canine cub from the assistance that would have save the world from the wrath at the hands of the Night Master that razed the old town to the very ground. To Lena, it was simple either way: no matter how much he genuinely expressed deeply sincere regret for what happened in those yesteryears, the former wasn't ready to forgive the latter yet. Thankfully somehow, she wouldn't even know that what was written down wouldn't make anything even worse than it already was or has been because it had already occurred.

Taking heed to the recently abandoned note, the canine cub opened the refrigerator and took out the very orange juice that her dear father brought out of compunction. Instead of finding the glassware to drink it out of, Lena drank out of the whole entire carton entirely in one gulp with drops pouring down from her lips. Based on the sentiment, it would be clear that it would be something no one would enjoy doing in their life, not in this one or in the next and not even in one of their past lives.


Now it was back to Yang again [like it always has been since (g)olden days of his childhood], still scuttling as the salvo and the screaming sounded seriously close by to him; yet, he could still hear his own heart beating against the ribcage. After sprinting down for only a thousand yards, the blue rabbit now stopped to hear civilians screaming all around him and see the speeding cars burning rubber as gunfire echoed outside. As if all this were ringing like church bells on a Sunday morning, his heart was beating louder and faster by each second, his ears were flopping against the back of his head as he ran with no destination in mind whatsoever. "Screw this, I'm tired of running already!" shouted Yang as he was still feeling the acute sting of the bullets flying through the air like missiles in the middle of a typical conflict amongst the warring states, he stopped dead in the track and enlarged his fists together to punch out another car with a scream, "PAWS OF PAIN!" The oncoming automobile was now flying through as the fragile glass shattered like puzzle pieces, its hood crumpled up as if it were a note, and even the occupants inside of it were screaming; the only thing missing was the part where the car was about to be exploding but that turned out to be not the case yet. "Ahhh… goddamn it all to hell; that freaking kid is good as–––" was all that one of the occupants said who crawled out with blood from his forehead reaching for something as he saw another fist launched at him emblazed in fire towards the overturned car.

Here the car had now burst into flames, its two passengers scorching in a hellfire destined to send them down after death as the paint blackened. The blue bunny squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to make the sight of the calamity disappear; however, it wouldn't discredit the datum of how this was still happening and how it happened. He took another glance at them which was turned into a smoldering pile of scrap metal he once was running away from but destroyed it at the last second. Yang still had the terracotta soldier in his possession and no time to think of a plan that would get him out of all this trouble that had been caused like he would always; yet, running away was all there is and there was nothing that could be done about it. Again, the blue hare only looked back as the automobile stood rigidly in place, smoking with blaze while getting increasingly frustrated with the situation beyond his control. It was bad before when Eradicus attacked Yang's former hometown but now the latter found himself caught in boiling water, especially with the fact he had already killed some people; to make matters worse, it was easy to be flabbergasted to find more people trailing from behind. Either way, time was steadily running out and whatever made the statue so special the blue rabbit would never know for when no more time was left over he was as good as dead.

Like usual, when things had just gone bad more trouble follows as he was forced to run away from the madness; just like last time, he balled up his hands into fists as he looked and prepared to charge onward toward the convoy once again (possibly for the last time). But then, a stream of providence has beamed over Yang in the form of men (and women) in blue just like his dear brother when they came to aid their fellow policeman from before; in fact, the latter was also among them who have just arrived onto the scene as quickly as possible along with a squadron fire trucks and ambulances in all directions. All the other gunslingers were either shot dead or have surrendered to the other policemen and policewomen alike as others searched for anyone in need of assistance; now, it was time for the blue bunny to step out of hiding and move onwards as planned, searching whatever was hidden within the depot that made the gunmen step out of line and aid his fellow man. Walking throughout the last of the entire repository with sirens in the background Yang couldn't help but shake the fact that out of all the time that he and Yin put their lives on the line, this was nothing compared to the time he nearly died long ago; then again, he felt like that he was already dead long ago. Then, just as the blue hare felt like he was out of harm's way, he had found himself in the path once again; this time, that path belonged to a red pickup truck that laid it straight out like a big fat hen.

The bamboo sword dropped onto the ground when the car hit the owner square in the face. All that the driver could do was just watch in shock at the scene that seemed to happen in slow motion; finally, Yang hit the floor like a lady in the elevator with a gentleman and his pet dog. A faint trail of blood appeared where the blue rabbit slid onto the ground as he was merely just lying there unconscious and motionless. What made it worse was that when the driver of the pickup truck stepped out of the car its identity was now finally revealed to be none other than Ritter himself with a worried look on his face as he thought to himself, "Crap, my boss is going to kill me when he finds out about it on the news the moment he puts two and two together again. Better get him outta here." The rat took Yang's hand and sighed in relief when he felt his pulse; however, just staring at his emotionless face made it even creepy as if playing a pirated copy only to find (oneself) a bone chilling message at the end. Ritter scooped the blue bunny up in his arms with all the strength that could be mustered up and started to carry the boy inside the red pickup truck with fear. Needless to say, even the writer alone was speechless to think about it for starters; after all, some occasion did come to mind as the writer had just left.

Either way, it would be only a matter of time for this prelude of tragedy to generate a gambit that owns the means of production with the means to an end justifying the means that would possibly spell out the end of the next phase that the plan would move into as it had already spelled out the end of that chapter.


Author's Note: Indeed it was; besides, I was afraid that we might run out of something. Of course, it seems that-

Dominique: STOP TALKING! Can we please, for the love of all that is freaking sweet, end this chapter now?

Sanzo: Not yet; we need to give out some pointers here. First off, we decided to give out the names of Dave's parents: Halliburton the father (or Hal for short) and his wife (or better yet the apple of his *cough* *cough* Ai), Eileen; even though you already knew them earlier in the story, we felt that it would be better that you get learn about themselves in third person mode as a show of introduction. Here are some twists: his current wife isn't his first one and neither Dave nor Chip are his sons; his first wife already died from a disease and he also had a daughter but she's missing for now, fueling his first suicide attempt. Secondly, I decided to expand the relationship between Jobeaux and his mother as if it were between a student and a teacher when it came to raising a family; after all, where did you think the child would come from? After all, you already know about it anyway so don't confuse them with those folks from Aintry; those fucks give us the creeps so deep it would make Donny and Marie Osmond look like Hansel and Gretel from Black Lagoon. Lastly, the moment with Judi and Tillman has also been lengthened to flesh out the relationship more descriptively since that family is everything to themselves and other; like mother, like daughter. Besides, I was running out of ideas anyway.

Dominique: You done yet?

Sanzo: Yes.

Dominique: Okay, since that we're done, now's the part where I say "PLEASE READ AND REVIEW!"