In the outskirts of a barren wasteland, three figures stand alongside the length of the lonely, cracked road in the festering waves of heat distorting the planes of vision. They are standing by a decrepit, bent bus-sign pole meditatively, eyes hidden behind fashionable sunglasses and lips hard drawn and neutral, dressed in black from neck to toe, and further layered with respective leather trench coats. Two of them are carrying dark guitar cases—as if they were coffins—in one fashion or another, while the third……the third ones held nothing in his hands, but to his back was strapped a katana sheathed in a crimson preserver decorated with golden markings.

By the man with the blade, a scorpion trudges by, holding within its claws a rapidly dying desert lizard. Without even looking, the man stomps down, crushing the scorpion under his shoes, internal juices squirting and pooling upon the sandy ground.

Soon, sounds of machinery reverberate with the waves of heat and a bus approached. Neither of the three made any movements to indicate their awareness, emotionless to the lively hotness of the world.

With a mechanical crank, the bus stopped before the trio and the door hissed before folding open.

Wordlessly, the three began to file in, taking deliberately solid step—

"Um, sir? I'm afraid I can't allow you to board," the driver said with a tilt of his chin.

By the way the man's eyebrows wagged, one could tell he was blinking. "………what?"

"I said I can't let you board the bus. Sorry, but we've got rules and protocols, and they're pretty strict and straightforward about such matters."

The man frowned, his hair seemed to fizzle. "Just what the hell are you yammering about?"

The driver tipped his forehead at him. "This whole shindig, sir. What with the obviously badass gang with concealed weapons in guitar cases and—well, you didn't even try to hide your weapon. We've got regulations against these types of scenarios, sir. Can't let you on board, might scare the elderly."

The man took a look at the empty seats. "There's nobody on the damn bus."

"That could change at any time, sir, we must look to the future. What happens if a dainty grandmother boards the bus later? What then, sir? You and your gangster buddies would scare the poor lady and then her family would be most upset. Or her friends at the retirement home. Either or."

"………you've got to be joking."

"Far from it, sir."

The two behind now tilted their heads to the side, peering into the interior of the argument.

The man growled. "We are not gangsters. Now let us on the friggin' bus."

"I'm afraid I've only your word on that matter. And I don't know you at all, so I must insist that your testimony is an invalid."

"Okay, that's it," the man spoke gruffly, his air of mysteriousness and coolness leaking away, "listen to me carefully, you surprisingly eloquent and talky bastard. We're the only reason why cities aren't overrun with the hordes of the undead and why your mother's brain isn't being gnawed on like a chew toy by a rapid zombie, or why the corpse of your pastor isn't being molested by some freaky—"

"I'm Greek Orthodox, sir"

"I DON'T FRIGGIN' CARE!! Just let us on the damn bus!!"

"I find your tone threatening and unacceptable, sir. It would be best if you just waited for the next bus."

"The next bus isn't coming for another twelve hours."

"Well, as the kids who egg my house every Halloween said: sucks to be you."

The man bore his teeth, the muscles in his cheek twitching violently, and continued entering through the folded door. "Screw you, we're getting on—"

An unidentified entity leapt over the second row of seats and latched onto the man's face, causing him to shriek and to stumble and topple back towards the gravel ground.

The other two were quick enough in their reactions to sidestep away as the man landed most ungraciously on the ground, and in the next moment demonstrated equally impressive maneuvers as one of them immediately struck at the unidentified creature with a swift whip of a kick.

But the creature avoided the kick by rolling into the air, secured its position on the leg that aimed for it, and leapt back into the bus.

The man on the ground grunted as he pushed himself up by the elbows to see that his assaulter—a hogmonkey?

"This here is Mr. Tinkles," the driver introduced evenly, "he's my copilot and trusted bodyguard against vagabonds such as you. Say hello, Mr. Tinkles."

The hogmonkey flipped them off.

"Thank you. Now, whether or not you'll excuse us, we'll be off." He turned toward the road ahead.

A beat. He turned to them again. "Fags."

The door hissed to a close as the engine picked up and the bus drove steadily down the distant, blurring horizon.

The trio started at the distancing bus as a tumbleweed crossed the road.

"Mother trucker," the man growled, as the shortest among them helped him to his feet, "Should've just lopped his head off."

"You okay, Jet?" his companion asked in an exasperated tone.

"Yeah, I'm fine, Smellerbee," the man confirmed as he dusted himself off.

Smellerbee raised her finger, as if to say something, but faltered and turned away with a huff.

Jet scanned the two far ends of the road. "Great, it looks like we've gotta hitch a ride. Longshot, bring out the purple stockings."

Longshot sighed and placed his guitar case on the dusty earth.

Funky Undead Hustle

Howl as if you have an infected pancreas/Introducing some of the weirdos

The halls bustled with lively, ordinary highschool student activity: chatting, gossiping, hissing, talking on cell phones, brutal beatings, brutal hazing, brutal pantsings, drama crying, drama shouting, drama spitting, taking drugs, sniffing drugs, eating drugs, inhaling cough medicine, bleeding through their crotches, bleeding through their eyes taking pictures, ogling, molesting, making out by lockers, making out in lockers, making out in bathrooms, making out in lockers in the bathrooms, whatever it is that highschoolers do on a normal, un-supplemented basis, it was all happening there because what's the point of a highschool setting if it didn't cover every dirty, dirty scenario?

But all activities came to a halt as a bastardized mixture of a sepia overtone and kaleidoscope corner photograph hedging rushed through the indecent humanity-packed hallway and loomed over everyone's heads like smoggy clouds of freebased narcotics, because—woo!—that was the effect he had on everyone of any sexuality or odd fetishes.

With a loud electric guitar strum of booming entry, he appeared before the mindless masses.

Wearing tight blue jeans, a white tank top, and a totally original leather jacket, he strutted down the grimy path with a hand tugging at his pocket (the jeans were really tight). The students parted like shadows away from the radiant source of a candle, because he was just that majestic. Every pair of eyes was upon him. The girls swooned at the mere sight of him and the guys became uncertain of their sexual orientation while the gay ones were happily reaffirmed of theirs.

"You're not the Fonz! You poser!" Someone shouted, and was immediately silenced by the aforementioned beating for his insolence. Oh wait, that someone's violent peers realized, he's right, that isn't the Fonz. But they resumed beating on him because, well, why not?

He came to stop before what was assumed to be his assigned locker, and twirled to it dramatically, causing the couple of ogling girls nearby to jerk in surprise.

He didn't do anything, and just……stared, his two prominent bangs sashaying to the wind (the ventilation fan).

The people around were getting curious at his behavior, but were quick to gasp in awe as the locker rumbled and the door creaked open.

"H-how did you do that?" one of the two girls, who sported blonde pigtails (don't ask me. I guess she's a cheerleader or something) asked in shaky fascination.

He turned to them with a dazzling smile framed by an equally magnificent mustache, and spoke in a character-conflicting voice. "Ah, greetings, chicas bonitas. It is only natural. For you see, the world is vibrant with mystery. And I am very, very good looking."

Neither of the two disagreed as they drooled slightly.

The girl who spoke before recovered first and swiped her mouth before forcing a non-aroused smile upon her face and nudged her friend conspicuously.

"SO," she started pointedly loudly, "I guess you must be the new sex gawd—I mean, new kid that everyone is going to be hearing about from this point on, huh?"

"That would be correct," he replied as he stroked his mustache.

"Wh-what color is your underwear—I mean, you name! What's your name!?"

"My name, mamasita, is HaRUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!" the leather-jacketed strutter howled.

"Huh?"

"Que?"

"I want to have your spawn," the other girl finally hissed. Her friend laughed nervously.

A guy suddenly jumped next to them. "Dammit! Return my heterosexuality, you fiend!"

"Ah, I am truly sorry, my friend. But I cannot return what was taken, for you see, I am very, very good looking."

"Oh," the teen said in disappointment for his departed straightness, "well, want to go out later?"

He was then pounced by a group of rabid highschool girls and quickly torn to pieces. "You're not pretty enough to initiate yaoi action, you bitch!" one of the girls screamed.

What a lively place, Haru thought.

Suddenly, his body shivered from blatant act of human violence and airborne bloodshed, baiting a……dark, primal hunger within him. He knew it was time to leave before something happened, even if it was still daytime, it was best not to take chances. He could already feel his beautiful mustache twitching.

"I am sorry," he began, "but I must take my leave……sexily." He left before anyone could say anything, his hips swaying mesmerizingly as he strutted away, eliciting orgasmic moans all the way out into the bright outdoors.

"Hey," a random person started, "did someone lose a ribcage?"

Welcome to (cough) Avatar (cough) Flippin' High.

Just wanted to do a quick update and introduce some characters. The actions of Aang and Katara will resume next chapter. Haru is based off of the abridged series on youtube, so I claim no true innovation. I've written out some later events already, and somehow, it gets even crackier. The Duke will be introduced later, and by request, as a goblin. Any more requests?