Pirates vs. Ninjas

Today is April 26, the last holiday I get to name this month. I have dubbed it International Pirates vs. Ninjas Day, and I expect every single one of you salty dogs and pajama-wearing studs to go over there and leave a comment on who is better. I'll know who didn't, and you will no longer be cool in my eyes.


Today brings us Part VII in our Monkey Barn Campfire Story. (You can catch up over at Literary Hype if you're interested.) In today's chapter we learn the meaning of "gallery whore," idiots who try "chiva," and that sadly, you may not want to stop at Anika's house for dinner.

Go check out Philogynist's twisting chapter.


[And now, the conclusion from yesterday's story]

The Hyperion Chronicles
“Did it have to be Miss Congeniality?”

#387 The Worstest/Bestest Birthday Ever (Part II)

{Continued from Part I}

I was so close to home I could taste it, and I wasn’t going to let xenophobic tensions bring me down. When the old guy next went to the bathroom I stood up and addressed the crowd.

“Excuse me, folks.” I said. “Can I have your attention? Today is my birthday, and I am having a very bad day….”

I went on to tell them about the horrible feeling in my stomach, about throwing up on the tiny plane and having everyone mad at me, and how I had talked to the old guy in Salt Lake while we were waiting and he had dialysis and had to go to the bathroom a lot and I didn’t think he was a danger.

I finished up: “People, I know we’re all nervous the last few months, but we have to use common sense. If people keep whispering among themselves you just know this situation will escalate, and I really want to get home. My friends and I are having a birthday party tonight…if I ever get there.”

There were several nods. I think people also realized they were being silly, letting paranoia scare them into something they’d look back on and regret. As I finished up some in the crowd actually clapped, and a few sang me happy birthday.

All was well.

Or so I thought.

For the rest of the story, please check out the Hyperion Chronicles, (as these few words were all that they would let us reprint, the big jerks).

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