The Eighth Page


I sit here now in my jail cell, a clold and lonely old man. I suppose you figure I spent my life stealing and pillaging. The story of my life is a story that centers around an ancient art: Kung Fu. When I chose to become a warrior of the school of octagonal -thunder- staff, I knew the path would be merciless. But it was not like me to give mercy either. My sensei, the great Lawrence Dai, trained my blood brother and me in the ways of the staff. I traveled to the far off kingdom of New Jersey, where a local warlord/dragon rider, Derek de Svastich ’06 resided. He required that a certain rebel, Molly Ozekmair ’07 needed to be purged. My only fee was information on the whereabouts of the Chang-Rae Lee Crystal, which was fabled to hold all the power in the nine chi gates of the galaxy. Dai- sensei had told me of the stone before he died in a fishing accident last October. I was quick to defeat my foe. First, I attacked her deadly spot, the neck, with a quick touch of my bow staff as she wailed “Oh my gosh Will!” Then with a quick blow, her head lay at my feet. I returned to my liege-lord de Svastich and petted his dragon as he gave me the address to the gem’s care holder. I traveled in my popsicle stick and gummy bear raft to the land of Pakistan. I had just reached the shore of Lahore when a group of hoodlums/rascals ambushed me along with Scooter Libby. I was quick to defeat my foes with my special Shimazu-Bhuddist-Strike. They died instantly, scattering their bodies to the four corners of the Earth. It then became obvious that someone did not want me here. I trekked for many days, following the map Derek had scribed in red crayon on papyrus. I slept with the monkeys, ate bamboo, listened to Cher, and did many other unspeakable things I only pray my children never have to experience. I had finally reached my destination: an old limestone temple with the face of carrot-top etched in the central archway. That face wasn’t the only ugly thing that place had to offer. I told my sherpa, Paulino Ortega, to wait at the main entrance, for I feared there was only a 50 percent chance of my coming out alive. I then methodically snuck my way in, avoiding the booby traps along the way. A faint blue glow radiated down the corridor. The Inner Sanctum. I ran to the fabled place that only existed in legend. A shadowy figure emerged from behind the pedestal where the jewel lay. Defeat manifested itself in an erratic clap of hands. It was my blood brother, who I had trained with so many years ago. The one who had chosen the way of darkness. “So my brother, you have sought the jewel as well.” “ Damn you, Hasan! You know the reason I came looking for the jewel was so I could destroy it!” “Mularky! Now I hold all the power of the nine chi gates! Perish in the hell-flame of my staff!” He grabbed the jewel. Instantly an array of lights shot out in all directions. Hasan’s skin began to glow. He leaped at me with the force of 1000 angry pumas. Our staffs met for only a second, because I was blown away by the sheer power of his strike. We battled for several epic hours. Eventually I lay defeated at the feet of my foe. He seized my staff and was about to deal the death blow when I sprang to my feet. “Coward! You must fight me or live your life in shame!” “ At least I’ll be alive…” I then pulled out the detonator to my staff. What Hasan didn’t know was that the center of my staff contained a core of Uranium, built in just for this specific situation. I pushed the button and bulleted out of the temple, just in enough time to escape. Some say I’m a hero; some say I saved the world that day; and some say I deserve glory. I don’t care about those things though. When a little boy asked me shortly afterward where I would go next, I replied, “Wherever the wind takes me.” I ended up getting arrested at my son’s football game three years later for drunken/disorderly conduct.