Three fat pigs with ample bosoms

twirled their parasols behind their tushs

as they flirted with the suave handsome wolf.

They yearned for a favor from him, which

they knew he could give – oh yes!

He oozed animal sexuality from every pore.

As the plump swine danced gaily on pig feet,

Dudley Wolf knew he’d have his pick – oh my!

So he thought of a contest for the wooing sisters -

You must each build a house and I’ll choose

which one I want to move into with you

where we’ll roll in the hay all day long!

Esmeralda Pig was furious at such a task -

it would take too much work and she’d

miss eating chocolate bonbons all day -

after all, she must maintain her curves.

She’d get even, of that she was sure

as she ignored his magnetism, and

did what she must to thwart his commands.

She pleaded with Priscilla and Hortensia,

her chubby sisters, to come up with a plan

They put their heads together in a circle

decided that Esmeralda would construct

a fine house out of straw with a pit

in front of the door where Dudley

would stand when he knocked.

Priscilla would take her sharpened sticks

and place them point up in the hole.

Hortensia would lay a winding brick path

leading to the daunting pit of no return.

It would serve that debonair wolf right!

Dudley Wolf came up to the door,

traipsing the path of red bricks

to the straw house which he planned

to blow down with one smelly breath.

The hole caved in and the wolf went flying

down the pit, was impaled on the sticks.

“This isn’t what I planned,” he screamed

as he lay there dying while porkers watched.

He was dead as a doornail, just a wolf rug

when they took his gold pocket watch and

all his cash and bought armloads of cartons

of chocolate bonbons which enhanced

their voluptuous bodies as they pranced,

looking for a wolf who wouldn’t have

         SO MANY DEMANDS!

It was love at first sight when I saw his yellow hat and yellow suit. Not many men can pull off that kind of fashion statement, but on him it shined like gold. He was kind and gentle-natured, and we both loved animals. We had a whirlwind romance, and were soon engaged.

It was a magical time, but things changed when he came home one day with that evil monkey. At first I thought I was being silly. It was only natural that he would need to spend more time with the scared little fella he named George. But over time, it became evident that the monkey had a clear plan to be become the alpha chimp, dominating or destroying all those in his path. But Yellow Hat could never see this. When it came to his monkey, he lived in his own delusional fantasy world, assiduously avoiding the clear truth. He couldn't even see the fact that the monkey was a girl, which was plainly evident to anyone with the most rudimentary knowledge of anatomy.

He also had a pattern of overlooking the deviant behavior of his monkey, and focusing instead on the perceived silver lining. For example, George, or should I say Georgette, stole balloons from the impoverished balloon seller, ruining his livelihood. But because she managed to make a small boy laugh at her antics, she was considered cute, and he totally ignored her theft and its disastrous effects. He says we should be forgiving because the monkey was just curious!

And don't even talk to me about the time when she changed all the numbers on the train schedule at the train station, causing gridlock, accidents, and thousands of lost revenue dollars. And what does Yellow Hat do? He actually rewards her! Just because she managed to comfort a small boy who was scared, but he was only scared because of the mess she caused with the trains to begin with!

At first I wondered what the reasons were behind her behavior, but over time it became clear that she had developed a devious plot to steal Yellow Hat for herself and bend him to her will. It became a co-dependent relationship, with Georgette escalating her appalling behavior to the point of no return. Then at the last minute, she would twist facts and events to extract some marginal good deed. Yellow Hat seemed to enjoy being the savior, rescuing Georgette from whatever dangers she subjected herself to. Then, oblivious to the mayhem she caused, he shielded her from any of the natural consequences of her behavior. He became convinced that Georgette would not survive without his protection, totally unaware of how she was manipulating him. Of course, this drove a relationship wedge between the Yellow Hat and me, but I'm sure it was just what Georgette intended.

It finally became clear that there could only be one female in Yellow Hat's life, and I gave him an ultimatum; it was either me or the monkey. Not surprisingly, He chose the monkey.  He justified and defended Georgette's behavior, and then questioned my motives! I broke into tears, and ran out of there, but I'll never forget that last image of him, pointing an accusing finger at me with one hand, while cradling Georgette in the other arm. She had a wicked grin on her smug face, and was mimicking him, also pointing a finger at me, but on closer examination, it was her middle finger. 

Curious, my ass!

***Warning: slight avatar the last airbender spoilers ahead***

"Aang, the name of the boy destined to save the world. The child whose entire life was written out for him before he could walk. The avatar: one burdened by expectations of greatness." 

A young man clad in a black toga sat to recite this laid-back speech. A blackened arrow tattooed down the centre of his hairless head, and a bladed staff leaned within reach against the throne he sat on. He reached for it.  

"A child's hand cannot carry the extent of the world's problems. I wish you could have seen that too, Katara. Or maybe you did..."

Before Aang's feet on a cloud covered carpet, bowed the head of a young and beautiful water bender. She sat strained against her knees, her wrists were bound in cuffs and tugged back by two metal benders at her sides. As an extra precaution, an old and shrivelled blood bender stood behind her with a red lotus pin holding together her cloak.

Aang stood and forced Katara's chin up, without touching her, with a graceful lift of his hand - this was airbending; the last of its kind. Katara's face was bruised and scarred, streaked with the sweat-wet waves of her own silky hair. 

"I thought you were dead." she cried.

"That's what you wanted, wasn't it? 

"How could I have wanted that!?"

"No? When you fed me with lies of fulfilling my destiny, showered my mind with your false-confidence in me? You didn't want me dead?! and yet you watched me die, and completed my destiny with the team I thought was mine. How did it feel, I wonder, when you saw me fail my mission, when you saw your wishes come true."

"HOW CAN YOU SAY THIS?!" She stretched forward against her restraints to scream out her pain. "What happened to you? Aang..."

"I tasted a bit of the real world. Thats all." Aang slammed a bare foot against the hard earthen pavement. Down from a newly formed ledge along the back of a pillar, fell a hard-headed blind girl with a loud and tough "Oof!"

"Toph, its great to see you again." She made a heavy kick-up back to her feet and jabbed a violent finger towards Aang, without making eye contact, like she used to always do.

"That's Master Toph to you, Twinkle-Toes! Have you completely lost your mind, treating Katara this way. Has losing the fight against the fire lord knocked you bonkers?!"

Aang smirked. Then rapidly, he stomped and made a swift punch to the ground. Toph immediately sunk deep into the surface, but knowing she could easily free herself, Aang made one small utterance to keep her in place: "Appa." 

A massive flying bison swooped in and landed over the ground she submerged into. Her angered calls could still be heard under Appa's mighty fluff. 

"Now for..." Aang scanned his throne room for the last of the gang, "Sokka!" Upon sensing his presense behind another pillar, Aang made a string of water, from the sweat and tears Katara had been harvesting, and whipped it towards Sokka's hidden figure. He used the water whip to rip the katana from his grasp. The hooded blood bender continued this assault and dragged the warrior out of hiding. Next, she pinned him next to his sister, ignoring his many yells of pain.

"I really did miss you guys... even if you didn't miss me..." Aang pressed his bladed staff against the carpet and sharpened bat wings popped out, he spun the flying contraption as if it were a scythe. "...I don't know if I'll miss you this time around." He then tightened his grip around his weapon and marked the spot at Katara's neck he would slice.

A blazing yell blasted its way through the tall throne room doors. The source of the ruckus zoomed through the air with a whirling display of flames to propel the body forward. A heated vertical spin kick smashed so powerfully on the spot Aang was standing that he had to use both air and earth bending to prevent the debris from crashing into him. Fury itself stood up tall in the persona of a person.

Aang wasn't afraid to directly confront the angry man."Zuko. I'll admit I forgot about you, didn't think you cared enough about this group to interfere."

Zuko's eyes were closed, one forever so due to the burn mark of a bloody pink scar. His lengthened black hair fell in a low ponytail. His working eye opened to speak out his compressed rage: "Aang... Stop this foolishness and release them. Trust me, when I say, the path you walk on, is one you will come to regret. It bears a far heavier burden then that of destiny. You don't want this life." 

"That's the problem Zuko, I wouldn't know which life I would or wouldn't have wanted. I never had a choice in the matter."

~~~

Background info on the original character: Aang is a really hilarious, happy-go-lucky kid who has to become the saviour of an unbalanced, elementally astounding world of fun.

Dear Journal,

It’s me, obviously. I visited Judy. She’s taken very well to her new medication. We carried on an entire conversation. Granted, I could not break character, and she was Faust. Strange how she cast me as the antagonist of the play. Perhaps she is still upset.

Yancey’s journal entry was interrupted by a phone call. Retrieving the offending device from his vest pocket, he noted the number. The only light in the small room was his desk light, illuminating the hardback journal, a sketchbook underneath, and the fountain pen used by the writer. The cell phone in hand cast Yancey’s dispassionate face in inhuman, blue light. After brief consideration, he answered.

“Mr. Valentine,” he sighed.

“H-have you s-s-seen the p-pap-per!?” yelped his frantic acquaintance.

“Of course,” Yancey said with a touch of pride in his voice.

The well dressed young man bent down and retrieved the Weekly Honker, and smiled down at the headline. Dead Student found in Diner Walk-In. Yancey’s normally cool demeanor changed. The frantic babblings of “Skeeter” Valentine were lost. A heady breath escaped Yancey as he read how the body of Roger M. Holtz was found inside a Walk-In Cooler. The picture was not of the body, but a painting of a bird in the victim’s blood.

“Stop,” Yancey suddenly snapped, “Repeat what you just said.”

Something the addict had rambled caught Yancey’s attention.

“Thecopsaskedmewhat’supwith--”

“Slow down. Breathe, Mr. Valentine. Breathe.”

“Right. Breathe. Breathe in. Breathe out. Right.”

“Don’t hyperventilate,” Yancey sighed, becoming more irritated by the millisecond, “Just tell me what the police asked you.”

“Th-they wanted t-to know if-if-if I knew of any new p-players in t-town.”

“What did you tell them, Mr. Valentine?” Yancey asked, debating Skeeter’s usefulness.

“I told ‘em I didn’t know nothin’!” Skeeter babbled, managing not to stutter an entire sentence.

Yancey recognized this as a tell, of course. Mr. Valentine could only keep himself from stuttering when he’d recently had a fix. And, if he’d have gotten a fix, the addict would have passed out. Yancey was beginning to regret supplying his informant with quality product.

“Good,” Yancey soothed over the phone, “Very good.”

“G-good?”

“Yes, Mr. Valentine. You’ve done well.”

Yancey absently reached out and stroked an item just out of the lamp’s light. It was a bleached white canine skull. It was a calming gesture, something Yancey did only when he was calming himself.   Plans were blooming in his mind. Yancey had his own addiction that he needed to satisfy.  But, he had to be patient for his next fix.  He would have to make do with sketches, for now.

“But,” Skeeter mumbled, “this crazy b-bird guy is k-killing d-dealers.”

Yancey’s hand paused upon the skull. All emotion bled out of his expression.

Crazy.

Bird.

Guy.

“You needn’t worry, Mr. Valentine,” Yancey said, still in the same calming, friendly tone, “I’ll take care of you.”

“Y-you will?”

“Of course! I take very good care of my friends, Mr. Valentine. Let me handle this ‘Serial Killer Issue,’ alright?”

“You’ll t-take c-care of him?”

“Let’s just say he’s become incorporated into my long term plans,” Yancey cryptically admitted, “I’ll see an advantage out of this, yet.”

“That’s g-good,” Skeeter sighed in abject relief.

“If there is nothing else?” Yancey asked.

“Huh?”

The fingers on Yancey’s free hand slipped into the eye sockets of the dog skull on his desk. He had to take a calming breath to cool his murderous anger.  But, he mentally berated himself, as well. One gets what one pays for, especially if the currency is drugs.

“Is there anything else you want to tell me, Mr. Valentine?” Yancey asked, much more calmly than he felt.

“N-no. I don’t th-think so.”

“Then, I bid you goodnight.”

“Oh, hey, b-boss,” Skeeter was asking as Yancey hung up on him, “c-can I--”

The young man barely had time to remove his fingers from the skull before his phone vibrated, again. This time, he saw a text message. It was from a particularly interesting young woman, one Yancey had to leave alone, for now. This was especially true, given the nature of the text message.

Bluff: We’re in.

Sighing in satisfaction, Yancey pocketed his phone, and returned to his journal entry.

On a side note, obstacles are falling away. I just secured access to a prominent investor. Personal interest in the Heiress aside, she shall be a longtime business partner. Her interest in certain individuals shall be a great ally over time.

-Douglass Yancey Funnie.

Finished with his journal entry, Yancey closed his journal, and retrieved the skull from atop his desk. Turning it to face him, he smiled up into its empty sockets. No longer would it destructively run about the house or spill his ink.  But, it had always been faithfully at his side.  So shall it remain, forever, just like Holtz, and Patti.  The only way he could truly rely on anyone was if they were dead. Otherwise, Deception was the only Truth.

“Bluffington shall be mine, Porkchop,” he said to the pet he’d murdered, “It’s no longer a question of ‘if.’ But, when.”