Disclaimer: It Must Be Dangerous for lawyers to iron pants… They'd always have one hand in the pocket. So for those of you with iron prints on hands… fuck off. I don't own FFTA or any of that flying Arab.

(Sorry that I haven't updated, but nobody reviewed, so I stopped caring, but now that I'm back in school I've got nothing batter to do so here it is.)

I was up at dawn the next morning, cheerfully chopping wood, to build up a supply, in case I met any more vieras in a Jagd or something. I'd decided that I liked the taste. I whistled as packed up the bundle and tied it to my pack, and strode off towards Cyril.

A few hours later, my good mood evaporated, when a judge appeared out for nowhere, and kindly informed me that, I was in deep shit for murdering and cannibalizing a viera, and would I kindly tell him what it tasted like, because he'd always been curious. Then he suddenly doubled over.

"SHIT, SHIT." he screamed, grabbing his balls.

" What's wrong with you ya fuckin' can?" I asked with an expression of contempt.

"Stage Three Ball Rot," he groaned "The only cure is a transplant"

The judge advanced on me, a maniacal gleam coming from under the slit in the helmet. He pullet out an ornately decorated black dagger, with red scrollwork on the hilt and blade, and a pentagram on the pommel. I recognized it as mine. I had lost it when I had come to Ivalice.

"The transplant doesn't have to be willing either." He laughed.

"The hell it doesn't I said, "And you've got my dagger. Looks like I'll have to kill you, and then maybe I'll eat that stupid chicken that you rode in on."

The Judge charged, pulling a strangely shaped blade out of nowhere. It looked like a ball grafted onto a metal stick, only much flatter, and certainly sharper. The judge swung the blade as fast as he could.

I stood there watching it crawl through the air. However, as soon as it was past vertical the blade picked up speed. Luckily, it stuck in the turban of a passing pubmaster, who ran off, shouting my turban is dirty, before the plastic explosives in it detonated, taking with it a couple of trees, and the judge's sword.

" What the hell was that?" wondered the judge, looking at me for an answer.

" Ultima Blade." Was my only response. My El Cid blurred forward, releasing the stored energy in a huge violet wave that incinerated the judge and lightly roasted the mother of all chickens.

I cut up the chicken, stored it in an increasingly heavy pack, and moved off towards Cyril once more.

When I finally entered the pub in Cyril, and ordered one of everything on the menu, people started to move away from me. Just for fun, I drew my sword, went over to the table with the most people, and sank the point into the wood. "What are you schared of friendshs?" I slurred completely hammered. " Do you want some… MARIJAHUANA?"

" N-n-n-no, not really." Squeaked a moogle.

" How bout chu lizard man?" I asked a bangaa, not to drunk to notice the very nice black sword on his belt.

" You called my lizzzzard." Didn't you he said.

" Pure geniush this one!" I yelled sarcastically.

" You wanna fight?" screamed the lizard.

" I knew we'd get there in the end!" I yelled happily.

The bangaa leapt up, and swung his blade at my face. I simply gave into my drink induced swaying and toppled over. The blade whistled right into the wall. I staggered to my feet, and picked up a moogle.

" Ultima Chicken!" I roared, swinging the now glowing moogle at the bangaa, and hitting a Nou Mon sitting behind me, causing him and my weapon to detonate.

The bangaa advanced, grinning " There'sssss nowhere to run now human." He hissed

I had one chance… my beer mug. " Ultima Booze!" I shouted, and spun the mug into the bangaa's forehead. The lizard detonated, spraying the room with offal.

I took it's sword, and went in search of a cathouse, and evidently, I found it, because right here there's a huge gap in my memory.