*Disclaimer- This story is to NOT make fun of handicapped people, drug addicts or both. If you take offense from any of this story here, it is now YOUR problem because I made this disclaimer. Therefore you are screwed. Therefore, you don't spam my crappy comments section screaming.......

"YOUSUCKYOUSUCKYOUSUCKYOUSUCKYOUSUCKYOUSUCKYOUSUCKYOUSUCKYOUSUC KYOUSUCKYOUSUCKYOUSUCKYOUSUCKYOUSUCKYOUSUCKYOUSUCKYOUSUCKYOUSUC KYOUSUCKYOUSUCKYOUSUCKYOUSUCKYOUSUCKYOUSUCKYOUSUCKYOUSUCKYOUSUC KYOUSUCKYOUSUCKYOUSUCKYOUSUCKYOUSUCK!"

2nd Note- PLOTHOLES! I am currently in a stump on how to continue that story, so for this moment I am not going to begin part 2 until Motivation strikes me again. Deal with it. Last note, the hero in this story is no way inspired or taken from the cartoon "Saddle Rash" that premiered on Cartoon Network four months ago. He was born after many frustrating hours of Alundra (think original Legend of Zelda on the 2nd quest, plus about another 4 difficulty levels) and about 20 minutes of chatting with Omen over a year ago.

You have been warned.

Listen to my tale you whippersnappers. Gather round.

Yes, even you, the one waiting for Zerg-Ling's latest battlereport to load with your pathetic 56k modem! You thought no one would know! You thought "as long as I have two green, no one will ever discover I don't have DSL!!" WELL MISTER YOU ARE EXPOSED! Now sit down and listen dammit before I am forced to spam in the Nohunters channel about your connection woes and force you to be shunned and stoned for all freaking eternity!

All because you just HAD to press the back button on your stupid browser.

My story, like any other tale that's ever been worth mentioning, stars a unique hero. He was a man who could fight like lion, had the wits of ten men (When he wasn't doped up) and the determination not shown by any other hero to date. The people called him.. Stumpy.

A long time ago, before any of you were born, When Elvis was popular and Chubby Checker was still on the top 10 lists, there was a horrible evil raging through the land. This being slaughtered even the largest armies with his horrible curses and magic spells. No one even stood a chance. This evil called himself...

Dr.Wuggles.

Dr. Wuggles never did take over the world though. Instead he settled down and built himself a giant palace made of human flesh and blood. He was like a male Martha Stewart. Only except human and straight. He could make a commercial airplane runway with a dead bee and a leaf if the need a rised, but that's getting ahead of things.

There were obvious flaws to this plan that you'd think The world's greatest evil would have thought of BEFORE he started construction. The corpses he used to support his home would eventually rot and decay, making even a single storm enough to blow down his massive palace.

In response to this, Dr. Wuggles would be forced to go under a super-sexy alias known only as "Mephisto," wandering around aimlessly in your local Durance of Hate, killing the oh-so common lvl. 2 Necromancer in hell.

That's why nowadays villains don't make their palaces in swamps out of flesh and blood. Its just common sense. And don't bring up the damn HOA.

I'm getting to a point, abiet slowly.

The people, sick of the oppression and the mindless slaughter of men so that "Mephisto" could have clean gutters, cried for a savior, for a warrior, for a hero to finally destroy him once and for all.

They got Stumpy.

"Why Stumpy?" You ask, setting your lagging ass down before you make all of ~Nohunters drop out. Well I'll tell you.

One night, "Stumpy" got high. He's well known around here, not for saving any cats from trees or children from... whatever children do. He's known for the simple fact that he is a druggie. Crack, Tootsie Rolls, Mary Jane the guy did it all.

Under his drugged influence that night, Steven encountered a large chasm(in reality it was a sewer drain) and saw that the only way to get to where he needed to (A nude bar must you know) was right across the black abyss.. He couldn't walk around, oh no not Steven.

Instead, thinking "Outside the box, "Steven raised his sword over his head, took a few steps back, then made a running leap forward, twirling his sword over himself like a helicopter propeller. It seems obvious to you now doesn't it? His fingers slipped, and his own sword cut both his hands off. The people found him soon enough, lying in the middle of the street screaming. They called the hospital and was able to save his life, although they couldn't reattach the hands...

I was shopping about four weeks after Steven's accident in the canned food isle, debating weither I should go for the prunes or the Hormel Chili. After much consideration about the pros and cons, I decided to go for the chili in the end. However, a beefy woman stood in my way of beef sauce goodness. I asked her to move politely, and she looked at me and gave me the most furious look. She then started to cause a whole scene. She advanced towards me threateningly, pushing and shoving me down the aisle. I stumbled to regain my balance but she wouldn't let up. To make a long story short, I ended up drenched in tomato juice.

During this little fight, I caught sight of Steven watching me. He had healed from his accident very rapidly, and was even now maneuvering around with utmost efficiency. However, the two stubs that used to be where his hands where wasn't exactly too attractive.

What? Now you want a damn description?

(Sigh) Fine you stupid punk with little to no imagination in the capacity of your head where your brain should be.

He's 6'4", 19, scrawny build, Even tanned skin, dark green eyes, and has semi-long silky hair was that of the same color of pine tree bark. In fact, if he wasn't always in need of a bath and a shave, most women would consider him quite the catch. You damn happy now?

Good!

Now shut up.

He walked over to me, almost falling flat on his face several times. He finally reached me after two minutes of advancing, and sat down on a tiny yellow plastic step ladder next to me.

"What's up old man?" He mumbled, sucking smoke into his lungs. I could smell his flesh burning from the hot metal pipe. How the hell did he get in here anyways without half of security on his ass?

"Hear the latest?" I asked, feeling a tad akward and taking off my trenchcoat. Tomato Juice is such a bitch to get out. "We lost another person to Mephisto... Poor guy was last seen in Korlina.." I walked back to the aisle, (Beefy Woman-less) reached for the largest can of Chili I could find, and thought of my next move. Chili peppers or Tobassco sauce? Oh my toilet will be busy tonight...

"Train me to fight him." He said, gripping my arm with his.. arms. I dropped my chili can in surprise and gave him an obscure look. I bent back over to pick the can back up, when I noticed a nasty dent...

Hey! Discount!

"Why do you want to fight him?" I asked, trying to see if I can somehow make the milk carton poofy with one of those soccer ball inflation needle thingy..

"Its none of your damn business. I've seen how it works in movies. I ask for your help, and you help me, no questions asked. I know what happened to you. I've heard the stories about you when you were younger." He said, slightly agitated at my curiosity. " You were a swordsman, one of the best in fact." He said, giving me a once over with his eyes. "You found Mephisto, and you dueled him one on one. You lost, barely."

"Movies don't always reflect real-life." I told him, not sure of how to respond to that. He got my life story pretty well. I purposely dropped my tuna fish just then. I leaned down to pick it up again, then threw it down hard onto the ground again for good measure.

They charge too much per can anyways...

Steven stood up just then from his little stool, and ran to the check out counters near the front of the store. "Where are you going?" I asked, worried he was going to do something incredibly stupid.

How right I was.

"LISTEN! GOOD PEOPLE!" He yelled, climbing up onto Counter 7. His eyes were more distant than I have ever seen them at that moment. "LEND ME YOUR EARS! ....Nonono.. Your EARS honey. Did you hear me?! You better put that damn finger down bitch, before I go over there and shove it up your ass! That's BETTER.... All the way-Alllll the way. Good girl..."

"Some of you might know me, for I am Steven of Watterson, son of Michael and Carla! I come to you, seeking your help, and possibly companionship. You see, I am trying to raise a party to destroy Mephisto once and for all. We cannot let him continue his reign of terror on us all!"

I slapped my forehead and cursed to myself. I am never taking him to see another Medieval movie again..

"What are you going to do about it, Stumpy?!" A fat drunken man yelled from the front of the crowd, part of his mouth still around his big gulp cup straw which obviously held some rum inside. "You have no hands to bear a sword! It is no more than a sheer fantasy! No one can defeat Mephisto! It can't be done!"

"IT IS NOT... JUST A FANTASY!" Steven yelled. " You are wrong, sir. For nothing is impossible. In fact, you proved that today by actually WALKING here didn't you sir?!"

Have you ever seen a large disoriented man and a scrawny kid that was high on god knows what go at it? The large man, drunk and pissed, stumbled forward doing a clumsy maneuver that most would consider a dive, or an attempt to scratch his ass.. Lil'Druggie meanwhile dodged it easily, and jumped at the big guy. However, he missed by at least 5 feet and smashed head first into a magazine rack.

He stayed limp from that point on, hidden from view. The fat man, finally able to get back up scanned the area, and caught sight of a passing teenager. Obviously thinking it was Steven, he chased after the kid, waving his tiny arms frantically. The crowd, seeing that the kid had finally shut up and the obese gentleman was gone, left to go back to their business. Though the beefy woman from the canned good aisle couldn't resist the opportunity to smack me in the head, hard.

"Steven, Steven, Steven..." I mumbled.

Seeing as I was the only guy around who honestly cared for the kid's well being, I walked right over to his limp body. He remained still though even as I called his name. He was still alive, that much I knew. "Wake up Steven.." I said, shaking his head around. Realizing he wasn't going to wake up again anytime soon, I reached into his pocket, and took out what looked like a snuffbox and shoved the contents under his nose.

Steven snorted a second, then bolted upright. "As in the words of Captain Murphy from Sealab 2021, 'Its like a koala crapped a rainbow in my brain!'" He said, blacking out again. I let out a long sigh, reached into his snuffbox again and let him have another snort.

"You OK, Steve?"

"Yes sir..." He mumbled, rubbing his face with where his hand would be. "So how about it?" He asked.

"How about what?"

"Will you train me to fight Mephisto?" He asked, grappling my arm the best he could. I looked at him for a moment, then at his arms.

"You kind of have a problem there." I told him. "Your hands..."

"Speak none of them." He said, drooling. "I will find a way around it. Meet me tomorrow, here at 8 A.M." he told me. He stumbled away again, shoving several people into stands as his stormed off.

Steven was coming down the parking lot with a more graceful stride in his walk. He was wearing some new clothes (New because he didn't have any burn stains on them) and his... Oh my god.

He had taken some duct tape, and had placed what looked like a strong broadsword on his left arm. This wasn't it though. He somehow managed to wrap a thick layer of tape around the sword and his stub creating a sturdy bond, strong enough to hold the sword. I personally doubted if it would hold though. He was getting many an odd look from passerby as he continued on.

"Sup old man!" He yelled, waving his sword in the air. "Watch think!?"

I managed to hold my tongue. "It looks good enough for me, but before you start your training, maybe you should cut back on your drugs..." I said. He looked at me and gave me a sly smile, moving his crack pipe around with his tongue (I failed to notice it before now).

"You're high right now are ya?"

"Yes sir." He said, his smile even larger than before.

"You do know that it will impair your fighting and your judgement. "I said, examining his tape job.

He took a long drag on his crack pipe (it never would leave his mouth), and raised his sword. "Try me." He said, smiling again, as if this was all but a game. I doubted his sincerity. However, I looked into his eyes, and saw that he was serious.

"Fair enough." I said, and I drew my sword out of its sheath. Its a long thin blade, I'll tell you that, but it is also the sharpest blade I had ever used. Taking my time, I reached into my pocket and I pulled out my lucky handguard, fitting it over the handle securely until I was sure it was good to go. Content, I lifted my sword into the air, giving a nod of consent. Him on the other hand left himself wide open, leaving his sword behind his back, and he nodded as well.

He struck first, his movement was fluid and quick, contrary to the little disaster I saw the other day in the market. He shifted his front foot forward and brought his sword right up at my chin. At the last second he overshot the head, pulling it back and thrusted his sword at my chest. I deflected it and jumped back returning blows. We fenced for what seemed like ages. Its like he could have read my thoughts, decipher my body language, some sort of creepy precognition thing. Several people started gathering around and watching us exchange blows. Eventually, a sun shower formed, drenching us in a thick rain.

I could barely see him. The rain had continually gotten worse, but he could still perceive me, somehow. He never let up on his onslaught. I finally pinpointed him, and jabbed at his chest. He did the same, aiming slightly lower. His sword met mine. I felt a shearing pain through my index finger, realizing he got his sword stuck in my handguard. We stood there for a moment, trying to overpower the other and free our blades. In the end , a slow sickening rip filled the air. His sword flew across the air, landing somewhere in the parking lot to my left.

The crowd burst into applause when Steven surrendered. The crowd finally parted, but not before shaking our hands numerous times(I ain't gonna even bother clarifying anymore). I walked over to Steven's sword, pulling it out of the ground and wrapped it back onto his arm. He smiled a bit, then went back to sulking.

"Why do you want to fight Mephisto so much?" I asked, standing over him. "Why do you want to risk life and...more... limb?"

"I do because I want to dammit..." He mumbled. "I have my reasons and you don't need to fucking know."

I was personally taken back by his sudden change in attitude. Seconds ago he was so thrilled and excited to fight, but now he's become moody once more. I offered my hand to him and helped him get up. "I'll.. I'll train you." I told him, looking into his eyes once more. "You better not disappoint me."

I saw the kid give a smile, but looked back at his sword. "What about that?" He asked, obviously off his high. "Its true, I can't fight, not with these," he motioned to his hands. "No one can."

"Well then, we'll find a way won't we?" I asked, taking my sword back up and walking to the parking lot median to retrieve his. "You had me going there for a minute. I thought I would have lost." I told him. "You're a fierce fighter, and will be more than a match for Mephisto."

The kid smiled again, spitting the pipe out of his mouth. "Lets go then." He told me. And thus I leave shall you with this. Until next time that is, when I think up some more random shit. Or have to call Tech Support again. Whatever gets ya through the night.

Til next time,
Psychochild.