Xiaolin Showdown does not belong to me.

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"Master Fung! Come quick!" came the loud raucous yell that nearly deafened his poor ears.

Before that summoning cry, the cleric of the seemingly poor temple was sitting on the wooden floor and was meditating for an answer to his "parenting" problems. The child was barely a year old, but he was still terribly whiny and needy and frail. Constantly wanting attention. Morning, noon and night. The creased face made a face that reflected all the tiredness in his body.

"Master Fung! Its Omi!"

Instant fear washed over him and it felt an egg dripping down his head and washing him with its sticky residue. The child! Something must be wrong. What would he do if Omi was gravely injured?

That thought frightened him. He had come to love the boy dearly ( he admits it) over this past vomiting-crying-smelly year. He raced down the temple halls; heart thudding painfully loudly over thoughts of blood and broken child body. His imagination was grand and vast; he could picture the tragic scene clearly...truthfully, his mind's eye scared him.

Finally, he reached the entrance hall and no gory spilt blood greeted him. There were no tears and there was no crowd gathering around the shattered little baby body. There was only Dojo. And he looked ecstatically happy and reading to burst.

"Wha-"

"Look!" the dragon instructed.

And 'lo and behold, the said child was walking tentatively and precariously with a cheek-splitting one-toothed smile.

Master Fung's upset frown broke into an equally bright smile. And he began to laugh. Quite loudly. Laughing and chortling and snickering.

Dojo stared, fright overshadowing his happiness. Master Fung? Laughing? Ack! Small and stout Omi stopped beaming his sun-shiny smile and stared at Fung with a not-so baby's confusion.

It was dreadfully uncommon for the monk to laugh or to even split a smile. And that laughter echoed boisterously and became a balm to sooth the vomit smelling-loud crying-diaper smelling room. The mirth settled over the dusty shelves and gritty walls; perhaps it will be joined by more laughter and perhaps they shall brighten and spick and span this dusky place.

Still laughing and happy, the wrinkly smelling-of-mildew monk scooped the tiny child in his arms. Omi giggled and waved pudgy little arms and squirmed in the warm embrace. If he was older, he would be proud of the attention his marvelous walking feat gathered.

"He walked! Quick! Take a picture!" Ah, the giddiness of a caretaker.

"Aye, aye, Captain!"

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Ehh, I don't know if Master Fung has a camera...Master Fung is laughing. eye twitch But the man needs to loosen up once in awhile, its good to laugh. Very good. As you probably have noticed, Dojo always has the last word in the chapter and it will probably continue as such. He seems as the type of dragon to break the tension with his flippency. I heart Dojo.

And much lurve to all those who have reviewed so far. I love thee.