Months after the whole Muslim cartoon incident that left many dead, Muslims are again throwing a tantrum, this time over something that Pope Benedict XVI said in a recent lecture. The pope was talking about faith and reason, and during his lecture he made an argument against using violence as a tool of faith, and in doing so he quoted from some ancient sources. The pope quoted Byzantine Emperor Manuel II Palaiologos as saying, "Show me just what Mohammed brought that was new, and there you will find things only evil and inhuman, such as his command to spread by the sword the faith he preached". He did not agree with this statement and he did not endorse it. He simply quoted the emperor in a scholastic sense to make a point and then explained the quote by saying, "The emperor, after having expressed himself so forcefully, goes on to explain in detail the reasons why spreading the faith through violence is something unreasonable. Violence is incompatible with the nature of God and the nature of the soul. 'God', he says, 'is not pleased by blood — and not acting reasonably is contrary to God's nature. Faith is born of the soul, not the body. Whoever would lead someone to faith needs the ability to speak well and to reason properly, without violence and threats… To convince a reasonable soul, one does not need a strong arm, or weapons of any kind, or any other means of threatening a person with death.'"

In addition to Islam, the pope made reference to Protestantism, Judaism, the Greeks and modern atheism, and yet there was no outcry from any of the latter. And yet Muslims around the world have had their sensibilities offended and have demanded for a public apology. As can clearly be seen, the pope's lecture was a scholastic one and he used history in order to further his argument. He did not attack Muslims and he did not attack Islam; he simply quoted an ancient source who had commented on Islam and even reflected on that source negatively by saying, "He addresses his interlocutor in an astoundingly harsh — to us surprisingly harsh — way".

Muslim leaders from a round the world have reacted with incredulity. The Organization of the Islamic Conference referred to the pope's speech as a "campaign" and called it "character assassination of the Prophet Mohammed" and a "smear campaign." The Turkish Prime Minister demanded a retraction from the pope and the deputy leader of the Turkish Justice and Development Party compared the pope's remarks to those of Hitler and Mussolini. Morocco recalled its ambassador to the Vatican, Pakistan's parliament criticized him, Iraq called the pope's remarks misunderstood and Iran said that the pope was part of "a series of Western conspiracy against Islam".

Pope Benedict has come forward and expressed his dismay that his remarks were interpreted in such a negative way insisting that they were taken out of context and were in no way meant to be derogatory. But Muslim leaders have rejected his statements as either lies or insufficient and are still demanding an apology. The pope's speech was against violence and he quoted an ancient source that made mention of historic Muslim violence, and the irony that the very Muslims who are so outraged by the very notion that Muslims act violently are themselves becoming violent over this situation. As of today (September 16^th, 2006), Indian Muslims have burned an effigy of the pope, a Muslim cleric of the Islamic Council of Somalia has called for the pope's assassination, a Greek orthodox and an Anglican church were firebombed in Nablus, five churches in the West Bank and Gaza have been bombed by Palestinians, and an Iraqi militia has claimed that it will destroy the cross in the heart of Rome and hit the Vatican.

When will we learn that there is no appeasing Islam? When will we learn that there is nothing we can ever say or do that will divert their hatred? The pope has been careful ever since he was elected not to step on the toes of Muslims, and yet after all of this, one misunderstood speech has outraged the Muslim community. Muslims do not afford Christianity or Judaism the same courtesy as the west affords Islam. They do not speak of western religions as glowingly as we force ourselves to speak of Islam. They do not look for the positive and completely ignore the great good Christianity in particular has done to fight disease and poverty throughout the world, but instead bring up the crusades time and time again as if the crusades were some evil that was solely the work of Christianity and was waged against Muslims unprovoked, apparently forgetting that it was due to Muslim instigation that the crusades ever were waged (for indeed, how could medieval Christians ever launch a crusade to free the holy land from Muslim occupiers if the holy land was not already occupied by Muslim invaders?)

It is from this that we see that Muslims are childish and stuck in a 15^th century frame of mind. Even if the pope's comments were evil and full of hatred—and they weren't—Muslims would still have no right to react the way they have. Who are they that they have the right to exist in this world without taking criticism? Are they so childish that they have to wage jihad on the infidel every time they get made fun of? We saw this plainly during the Muslim cartoon controversy. I saw the cartoons as most of us did and they were silly. At the worst they mocked Islam, but Christianity has been mocked far more often and in much more hateful ways for years, such as "artists" dipping a crucifix in a jar of urine and "artists" drawing a painting of the virgin Mary and spearing it with feces, and yet no mosque, nation, church, market, airport or art gallery has ever been bombed by Christians in response. This is why Islam must be reformed if it is to exist in our modern world. Reasonable people just can't respond this way every time they feel like they have been made fun of. We westerners must not tiptoe around these immature and rage-filled Muslims in fear of offending their sensibilities for no man, nation or religion has the right to exist without criticism. Muslims want to hold the world hostage by threatening violence upon those who mock, criticize or ridicule them which is why they have already bombed churches and called for the pope's assassination over such an innocent lecture. We must refuse to allow Islam to hold a gun to our heads and censure us for fear of violent retaliation. Such behavior is immature, undemocratic and flat out wrong, and it must be condemned—with gusto.

The Discovery of the Third Gender

by General Happenstance

Published in the Journal of Anthropology and Antiquity,

April 2023

 came upon a startling discovery during the time I spent last winter in the cradle of civilization. I now present this discovery to you all, my fellow scientists and historians, and I hope it meets with your approval. In order to make the startling claims that I do, the reader must be sure that he understands my credentials so that he does not believe that I am a novice or otherwise find an excuse to dismiss my research.[1] But lest I lose your attention, I will come directly to the purpose of this report.

I have just recently concluded many months of study overseas, in what was once known as ancient Mesopota­mia. While there, it was my hope to find out more about the races of man that preceded we Homo sapiens sapiens, and if I had not made these discoveries myself and seen the evidence with my own two eyes, I would have a hard time believing them. As Arlington Tourney, our famed priest and anthropologist once said, "If we delve into the earth, the very blood and clay that man has trod upon for so many years, we will find the ancient links that form the chain of our ancestry",[2] and thus I have striven these many years to complete this chain, starting where man began--in the cradle of civilization. All that can be found in this report I experienced first hand, and my own crew and confidants can attest to its authenticity.

One of the most exciting things I discovered was the real name of our ancestorswhat they called them­selves--the race of men we now call merely Homo Sapiens (the race immediately preceding our own). In a deep cave smack-dab between the Tigris and the Euphrates, I found scribbled markings on the wall in a language previously unknown to us, written by the hands of our ancestors. (I will get into the translation of this language in a moment.) They called themselves the Adragunden, or literally, The Fallen and Taken. Yes, that is correct; these Adragunden had a form of writing long before cuneiform ever appeared in our world, and not only that, but it was an advanced form of writing, far more advanced than any language up until the time of the Persian War. How did I translate it? Amazingly, I found within the cave a tablet of laws (called the Stone of Justice) written in this ancient language and on this tablet was written the exact same text, over and over; first in the ancient language, then in some other language I did not recognize, but then in cuneiform and a series of other languages ending in, of all things, Greek. Reminiscent of the Rosetta Stone for sure, but I kid you not. How could such knowledge of our ancestry be known by the Greeks and not recorded by any of them for our own modern eyes to read?

Regardless, because of my knowledge of Greek, I was able to translate the stone. This gave me a working knowledge of the Adragunden's language and I set out to translate everything I could find. In order to spare you the details of my painstaking archeology and translation, I will relay here the most startling discoveries I have made.

Man was first three sexes. Male and Female have car­ried on into this modern age and are our means of reproducing but, according to my research, there was a third sex called, upon a modern rendering of the name, Omale.

After studying the artwork found in the massive cave system between the Tigris and the Euphrates,[3] I have come up with what I believe to be a fairly accurate depiction of what these Omales looked like. They were human in every sense of the word. They ate and slept, were bipeds and could work. They had two eyes, a nose and a mouth and functioned very much like we do. However, from every image I have seen, I have yet to see an Omale depicted with any hair. Other than that, the only main difference between an Omale and either a Female or Male is, of course, its reproductive organs. It had neither of the genitals that are found on modern humans; rather, it had a series of hard knobs between its legs that would blink and flicker when it was aroused.

Omales could not reproduce with Females or Males. They simply married each other--Omales marrying Omales. Each Omale had the same sexual organs, and as I have concluded,[4] an Omale would stand in front of another Omale, blink its little flickering knobs and in this way they would attempt to impregnate each other. It was a mere matter of chance--or perhaps it had to do with genetics--which of the Omales became pregnant.

The child of such a union was thought of much the same way as we think of our own children. The Omale that happened to get impregnated was considered the mother and was responsible for raising the child, while the other Omale was considered the father and was responsible for providing for the family. Often, however, Omales would have more than one child, and since it was mere chance which partner became pregnant, most married Omale couples were considered both father and mother by their children. It was a complex system, as we would think of it today, yet worked out incredibly simply in their world. In the end, Omales were both mother and father, the primary caretakers and the primary nurturers. If I may be so bold as to state my own personal opinion, I would say that this system of parentage would be preferable to our own; but perhaps I am overlooking something. Perhaps we have two sexes so that the work of parentage can be divided between parents rather than both parents having to do both jobs. Is it far-fetched to conclude that male and female are supposed to be different, each gender with its own unique strengths and weaknesses, and that in a marriage they each depend upon the other in order to wholly function? Otherwise, why would it not be preferable to merely be born an Omale?

Alas, the Omales died off, as we all know since none now exist. As my research indicates, this started about 1,500 years after the appearance of the first written Omale records that I have found.[5] The cause of their decline was due, according to their legends, to a man falling from the sky. He crashed to the earth and left a crater in his wake. When the humans of earth came upon the crater they saw within what appeared to be a winged man, although the feathers had all been stripped from his wings. Pictures on cave walls and even crude paintings on a form of strange canvas depict him as a frail man with dark hair, a crooked back and a long, bony nose. Fear of the man went through the hearts of the humans the moment he turned his glance upon them, and they set him up as a god.[6] They created a temple deep within the earth where he could reside and rule over them, but despite my best efforts I have not been able to uncover this temple.

Evidentially this being was immortal and ruled over humanity for many centuries with a cruel hand.[7] Eventu­ally, the Males and Females united in a rebellion against this sky-faller and cut themselves off from his rule. The Omales, however, remained loyal to the newcomer out of fear and became his priests. The newcomer instructed them in new ways to live, ways which appear to be the first written records of human vice and immorality. He also showed them how to make mirrors, and this became a nuisance to the Omales.

I have mentioned previously the Omales' particular way of reproducing. The Omales, upon receiving the mirrors from the sky-faller, looked into them and became aroused at their reflection. This caused the knobs be­tween their legs to blink, and they would immediately impregnate themselves. The result of self-impregnation was a decline in the nuclear family within the Omale communities. Omales no longer needed each other to reproduce and raise families, and so Omales would impregnate themselves and make little self-clones. The drawback, however, was that the intelligence, physical strength and vitality of these clone-children diminished with each new generation of clone-children. An Omale would impregnate itself, its child would impregnate itself, and its child would impregnate itself with each resulting child becoming a little less capable to perceive, understand and, in the end, live.

When the Omales perceived what the sky-faller had caused them to do to themselves, they also rebelled, but far too late. The Omales sought out the Males and Females and asked for their protection, and the humans were once again--and for the last time--united.

Self-impregnation was outlawed.[8] However, the poi­son in the words of the sky-faller dissuaded many of the Omales from living harmoniously with the rest of hu­manity. Some Omales were loath to leave and rejoin the other humans, and when they did were very ill-content. When self-impregnation was outlawed for practicality's sake, many Omales became self-righteous and indignant, saying they had a right to do whatever they wanted with their own bodies and no one could tell them otherwise. This group of Omales, however, succumbed to natural selection and eventually died out as their children became, more and more, less human. These Omales left the human communities after losing their ability to speak and per­ceive human thought, and it is presumed that they simply died off. Some of my colleagues have theorized that these Omales devolved into what we now know as the primates (after evolving male and female sexes, of course). I do not know if I agree with this assessment.

Peace did not return to the human communities once the fear of self-impregnation had disappeared, however. The venomous words of the sky-faller had seeped well into the Omale conscious, and rebellion stirred within their hearts. Many of the Omales developed unhealthy sexual desires for the Males and Females, whom they had no capacity to mate with. There was a cult to the sky-faller that regularly had a habit of kidnapping Males and Females and molesting them.[9] This enraged the Males and Females, naturally, and they demanded that the Omales leave and return to the sky-faller. The Omales as a whole, however, even those who did not practice cross-gender-manipulation, had become a prideful and indig­nant sex, and refused to be told what to do by the Males and Females.

And so this leads us to what I have discerned to be the first war.[10] The men and women clashed with the Omales and a war was fought that raged for many decades. In the end the Omales' own pride was their downfall, for they failed to consider the Males and Females a serious threat and did not place guards around their communities. Most were slain in their sleep.

The Omales that survived were rounded up. The ones that had taken Males and Females against their will to satisfy their own sexual desires were executed on the spot. The remaining were sent as exiles into the wilderness. This small band of Omales made their way to the cave that I found, deposited their historical texts and relics and wrote down their story, hiding away their scrolls, artwork and belongings in the depths of the tunnels. I do not know if this is the same tunnel that led to the sky-fallers temple, though I searched for it and did not find it.

Amazingly, the remaining Omales decided upon self-extermination. They made a pact and refused to mate with each other until one by one they died out. The last of these Omales, however, broke his pact and, upon finding a mirror, mated with himself. I found within the caves a series of thirteen graves with the remains of these Omales inside. The skeletons of these Omales look progressively degenerate until the final one looks very much like a primate. My colleagues point to this as evidence of their previous claim, but I find it very hard to believe. After all, such a find would shed doubt upon our theory that man evolved from the orangutan, and of course as scientists we must never fit our theory to the evidence, but the evidence must fit our theory.

This is the end of my report. I attest to the truthfulness of everything I have written here, and am now compiling an organized library of the various Omale texts I found within the caves so that the scientific community can study them and see how I came to my conclusions. Upon reflection, I think I may understand why the ancient Greeks, if they truly did know about the Omales during their day, preferred to let knowledge of them slip away from human memory. After all, the Greeks were not models of morality in their day any more than we are in ours, and to find the history of the decline and fall of another gender of man based primarily on its sexual exploits must have been very unnerving, as no doubt this account will be to many.

s tired and charged as the topic might be, I still find the whole concept of Choice to be very interesting. I was watching Amistad last night and found the film fascinating. One of the most interesting aspects of the film, in my opinion, was the fine legal line drawn between the Africans that were taken on the Spanish ship Amistad and regular African slaves. The theory went that if the Africans had been slaves then they had no rights and therefore did not have the freedom to choose to rebel against their captors and kill them. On the other hand, if they were not slaves before taken by the Spanish ship, they were free men and women and had the right to choose to rebel against their captors and fight for freedom. Of course, the legal line drawn is depraved at best, but the political climate at the time between those who fought for their right to own slaves and those who fought for the slaves' rights to be free is extraordinarily reminiscent of a certain battle that is being waged in our own time.

Which leads me to wonder exactly how much freedom we, as humans, should have. Societies have dictated the extent of freedoms granted to their citizens since the dawn of man. Our own society values the freedom of the individual nearly above all else. The problem arises when one mans' freedoms clash with another mans' freedoms--take theft, for instance. A man is free to own property, but he is not free to use any means possible to obtain that property. Thus, we, as a society, have declared it wrong and criminal for one man to take the property of another man as his own, and we have labeled this theft. The Choice of the thief is all but disregarded, for we have decided that our citizens must not be allowed to choose to steal.

This flies in the face of some popularly held beliefs--take the case of Robin Hood. The man is generally viewed as a hero because he robs from the rich and gives to the poor; the rich, of course, being a symbol of corruption. There is a vein amongst us who believe that the poor are poor because the rich exploit them and make them poor, and these individuals use this mentality to justify theft. It is ok, they think, to steal from someone who is very well off, because he doesn't need it and won't miss it, whereas I do need it, and I deserve it more than he does. Despite this popular notion, our society has chosen to trample on the Choice of one aspect of its citizenry in order to say that all theft--regardless of who does the stealing and who is the victim--is wrong and is therefore a crime.

The allegory inevitably leads, as I am sure you all have been predicting, to the concept of abortion. Proponents of abortion invariably defer the moral and ethical problems with abortion to the almighty Choice. They have a right to abortion because they have the freedom to do with their bodies whatever they choose to. Therefore, how dare anyone tell them what they can and cannot do with their own bodies? How dare anyone hamper their Choice in any way? Their unborn baby belongs to them, no one else, and they can do with it what they please.

The Spanish slave trade sued America over the Amistad slaves using the same line of reasoning. The slaves were property that belonged to them. They could tie their property to chains and throw them overboard, if they pleased. They could string them up and whip them for acting badly, if they pleased. How dare the American government deliberate over what the Spanish did with its own property? The Spanish had the right to their property because they were free to do to their slaves whatever they chose to.

One striking difference between abortion and the slave trade is that unborn children are unable to rebel against those who would cut them out of the womb. We will never see a fetus on trial for rebelling against those who would kill him because he does not have the capacity to speak out. But what if he could? What would he say? Maybe he would say that he has the right to be born. Maybe he would say that he should be free to live. Maybe he would say that he should be given a choice, and not have that choice made for him. Should we not, then, give him the ability to make that choice?

In the end, abortion isn't about choice at all. It is about property and ownership. Some say that a fetus is a woman's property--therefore she owns it and can do with it as she pleases. It took humanity thousands of years to realize that slavery was wrong and that slaves were human beings, not property. Likewise, infanticide, child exposure and abortion have gone on since time immemorial. How long will it take before we extend this revelation to our children?

here was once a girl named Tova who lived in a small village near a grand, snow-covered mountain. She enjoyed playing in the woods around her house and was more often outside than inside. She was playing with a pinecone one day when she threw it high up into the air. The wind caught it and blew it towards the trees. She chased after the pinecone and it fell on top of one particularly gnarled and twisted tree. Tova stopped in her tracks and stared at the massive plant. It was dark and covered with knots. The stubs of ancient branches that had long since been snapped off stuck out of the trunk, pointing in all directions. Not a green thing grew from the tree, and its roots poked out of the earth, reaching their bent arms out in all different directions. As she stared at the trunk, she could barely discern what she thought to be a face, staring back at her. She shook her head. No, it could not be a face. It was probably just the knots and branch stubs arranged in such a way that it looked like a face. Probably.

          She crept towards the twisted tree quietly, sometimes glancing at the face she thought she saw. But the tree didnt move and the sky was still light, so she climbed up the trunk to the very top of that stubby tree to look for her pinecone. When she reached the top she gasped. The trunk of the tree was hollow, and went far into the earth, so far that she couldnt see the bottom.

          Hello! she shouted down the trunk, and her voice echoed a dozen times, Hello! Hello! Hello!... She whistled lowly and then went up and down in pitch, and the sound reverberated throughout the hollow tree.

Tova laughed and looked around for her pinecone. It sat on the edge of the tree, caught by a small branch. It dangled precariously over the hollow, and Tova reached out slowly to grasp it. The pinecone was just out of reach and she strained her body to grab it. She touched it with the tip of her fingers, but all at once the pinecone fell, down into the depths of the trunk.

No! cried Tova, lunging for the pinecone, and as she leaned forward her legs slipped. She slid head first into the dark, murky depths of the tree, screaming as she fell.

As she tumbled head over heels the light from the sky faded from view, and Tova was engulfed in total darkness. Fuzzy things, stringy things and squishy things brushed by her face as she fell, and soon she could feel the walls of the tree narrowing in on her. Long leafy things, perhaps flexible branches or stiff leaves, reached out to grasp her, and her falling slowed until she stopped in mid air, caught by whatever it was that was holding her. She struggled fiercely in the dark until suddenly she was freed, and she fell a short ways before rolling onto the soft ground. She felt something in her hair and she jumped to her feet, brushing her hair wildly, batting at the air around her. At last she calmed down and looked at her surroundings.

It was pitch black and her eyes had not yet adjusted to the darkness. She tried to walk around but kept on bumping into leafy, fuzzy things and so she decided to wait until her eyes adjusted to the dark. At last she thought she saw a light out of the corner of her eye, faint though it was. It was a green light and was very close to the ground, and she crept towards it in the darkness. The light was round and small, and, not knowing what else to do, Tova reached out and touched it.

The thing was squishy and moist, and Tova recoiled in disgust almost instantly. But just as she did the object sighed, and the green light grew brighter. It was a large mushroom, and it pulled itself inside out, glowing a faint green color. She saw many other mushrooms around it and she lightly touched each one on the umbrella, and as she did they too turned inside out, emitting a dim, green light.

Tova stood up and glanced about her in the faint light. She looked up the hole through which she had fallen. She could not see an end, but stringy vines and thick spider webs crisscrossed back and forth across the opening. Tova shuddered with the thought that a spider might be somewhere in her hair, and she ruffled her head vigorously one last time, just to make sure.

Oh, my pinecone, said Tova sadly, realizing that the pinecone was probably caught in a spider web somewhere. But just then she saw it lying on the ground near her feet, and she cried out happily. She bent over to pick it up, and as she did she noticed a large, gaping black hole in the side of the trunk that went on deeper into the earth. Tova pocketed the pinecone and pondered what she should do next.

Well, she said, I cant climb back up. Looks like this is my only way out! With that, Tova bent down, picked one of the mushrooms and held it up as a lantern. She took one big breath and then stepped into the darkness.

The hole went deep into the earth and sloped downwards. Stringy things brushed by her face and she ducked, trying to avoid them. At length she saw a green light at the very end which grew brighter as she got closer. It was the opening to a large room, and when she reached it she stuck her head into the room to look around.

Inside the room was a sprawling little village. The houses were all made out of mushrooms and the streets were paved with polished pebbles. Large lampposts lined the streets and gave off a green light. From where she stood, a thin trail went down towards the town and turned into a road, which went on and disappeared amongst the numerous houses and shops. Stalactites hung from the ceiling and stone pillars dotted the large chamber. Despite being underground, black and dark purple grasses grew all over the place, weaving between the houses and sprouting out of the rocks. Tova stared in awe at the sight before her, crawled out of the tunnel and slowly walked down the path towards the town.

As she got closer, she realized that the mushroom houses were much smaller than houses up where she lived. The tallest was only about as tall as she was, and the shortest ended at her waist. She reached what appeared to be a town square of sorts, and in the middle was a fountain, made entirely of mushrooms, that spouted water high into the air.

Just then Tova heard a peculiar sound. It was low and loud, and went bing-BONG! bing-BONG! She heard some scuffling and grunts and the doors to the houses opened. Little creatures, only a few feet tall, began to walk towards her. Tova was scared and stepped backwards. She turned to run but stopped in her tracks, for the creatures were behind her too, and all around her. She turned this way and that, looking for a way out, but she was trapped!

Are you one of them? asked one of the creatures earnestly, stepping close to Tova. The speaker looked Tova up and down, evidentially baffled at her presence. The creatures looked like large knobby mushrooms, only they had faces and limbs and wore strange spotted clothing. They didnt walk but rather waddled back and forth, and when they stopped their heads wobbled, showering little green spores everywhere.

Them? asked Tova at last, still amazed at what she was seeing.

Yeah, one of those Saxitans, said the creature.

No, said Tova. I dont even know what a Saxitan is.

Oh, theyre horrible! said the little man, and the mushroom people shook their heads in fear, sending spores all over. They come out of the dark places and stomp on our houses. They chase down our sporelings and smush them.

Smush them! Smush them! said the other mushroom people.

They look like a whole bunch of rocks stuck together, but they walk like we do and are much faster. Oh, how I hate the Saxitans! Are you sure you arent one of them?

Tova looked herself over and then shook her head.

Yep, Im not made of rock, so I cant be one of them. The mushroom people all sighed in relief.

Well then what are you? asked the little man. Because you certainly arent one of us.

Im a girl.

A girl? What is this girl?

Well, me. I am a girl. I came from up there, she said, pointing upwards. The mushroom people all gasped in awe.

Top-dweller, shes a top-dweller! they murmured.

We have never seen a top-dweller before, and only know of them from our oldest of fables. We thought they were a myth, but here you stand! Remarkable.

I never knew you existed, until just now, said Tova, and I dont think we have any fables describing your kind. But what are you?

We are the Svampoids, and we have lived beneath the earth for thousands of years, said the little man. My name is Magsvamp, and I am the ruler of the Svampoids! You have stumbled across our capital city, Svampopolis.

You are all so funny looking! said Tova. You look like mushrooms. The Svampoids all laughed.

That is not surprising, said Magsvamp. Come with me, Ill show you how we are born. Tova followed Magsvamp and the other Svampoids trailed behind making squishy noises and showering green spores everywhere. Magsvamp led her through the city of mushroom houses until he reached a cave. Upon entering, Tova noticed rows and rows of large mushrooms, perfect in size, shape and beauty.

This is our nursery. Whenever we want more Svampoids we sit on a sporeling. Look! Magsvamp pointed to the scattered Svampoids sitting on mushrooms in the room, but most of the mushrooms were not sat upon.

The spores from our heads sprinkle down and are absorbed by the mushrooms. After a few days the mushrooms are ready to either be converted into buildings, lampposts or, if we sit on them long enough, they spring forth limbs and become Svampoids like us. See! There is one now!

Just as he finished speaking one of the mushrooms that was being sat upon started to tremble. The sitter leaped off and the mushroom sprouted two arms, two legs and a then a face appeared. The brand new Svampoid stood up and shook himself, and spores went flying. He then exchanged a little dance and a handshake with his sitter, and then the two Svampoids laughed. The crowd that had gathered around Tova and Magsvamp sighed and wiped their eyes.

Ah, its so beautiful to see a new life brought into the world, said Magsvamp with a sniff.

Wow, I had no idea that mushrooms could be used like this! said Tova.

Well, of course! said Magsvamp. What else would they be used for?

Tova decided not to mention that they tasted pretty good too.

Oh, how I miss the old days, where our Svampoids sprouted from every corner and not a single mushroom went to waste. But things just arent the same since the Saxitans arrived. There arent enough Svampoids around anymore to sit on the sporelings, and whole nurseries go to waste!

What do the Saxitans do that scare you so much?

What do they do? Come, Ill show you what!

Magsvamp led Tova out of the cave and towards the city. He followed a thin road that went downhill towards a part of the town that was darker than the rest. Tova soon saw why. All the lampposts had been knocked over. The houses in this section had all been squashed, and mushroom was smeared all over the place. Tova gasped.

Yes, this is why we fear the Saxitans. They come through the walls and stomp on our houses. Look there! That used to be a nursery, but now it is just slimy.

Why do the Saxitans do this? Why cant they be your friends?

Because they are part rock, and as everyone knows, one of the primal urges of rocks are to stomp on things. Dont rocks stomp on things up top?

Well no, said Tova. Rocks dont generally walk around up top. We move rocks around sometimes, and when we drop them they sometimes smash things.

See! It is the same everywhere, said Magsvamp. All rocks want to do is stomp!

Stomp, stomp, stomp! said the crowd of Svampoids.

And what can we do? We are just soft-bodied fungusoids. We cant defend ourselves against rocks.

Cant you build a wall so that they cant get to your village?

A wall? Hah! If only! said Magsvamp, and he pointed to a dark opening near the back of the nursery. It went deep into the earth.

We used to use this tunnel as a means of connecting with the other Svampoid cities beneath the earth. But then the Saxitans arrived. Tova saw smushed and crumbled mushrooms all over, smeared around the entrance and scattered in piles. We used these mushrooms to block the opening, but it was no use! The Saxitans just blasted through them and wreaked havoc upon our poor city!

Hmmm, said Tova. I think I see your problem. Your answer to everything is to use mushrooms.

The Svampoids looked at her quizzically.

Wellyeah, said Magsvamp. What did you expect?

But you cant use mushrooms to defeat rocks! Rocks are much harder. You need to use rocks against the Saxitans.

But we dont like rocks, said Magsvamp. And even if we did, they are too heavy! We are too small to move rocks.

But Im not! said Tova, and with that she reached for some small rocks nearby and walked towards the opening. She began to stack rocks in a pile in front of the opening, and soon the dark hole was halfway covered.

Hooray for the girl! Hooray for the top-dweller! chimed the Svampoids. But just then they all heard a rumbling. The Svampoids cried out and clutched each other, trembling.

Its them! shouted Magsvamp. They are coming!

As soon as he finished his words the half-built pile of stones exploded outward, and Tova reeled backwards. When she looked up at the hole she saw dozens of funny, walking rock-creatures. They were each made out of six rocks; one big, round rock in the middle, two long thin rocks as arms, two long thick rocks as legs and one small triangular shaped rock as a head. The Saxitans began jumping around and waving their limbs, and then their triangular heads turned towards Tova and the Svampoids, as if noticing them for the first time. A strange, rumbling laughter came from the dark hole and then the Saxitans burst out in what sounded like a song:

Stomp! Stomp! Stompity-stomp!

Romp, stomp, grompi-too!

Smash, bash, glashi-goo!

Rompity-bompity, stompity-gompity,

Frump, bump, dumpy-doo!

Basher, clasher, smasher-too!

Smusher, glusher, flusher-goo!

Smackity-flakity, rakity-dakity,

Tasher, lasher, rasher-doo!

Stomp! Stomp! Stompity-stomp!

The Saxitans jumped from the dark hole and began stomping all over the place. They leapt into the crowd of Svampoids, scattering them all over. The poor fungus folk cried out for help and ran in all different directions while the Saxitans chanted, Stomp! Stomp! Stompity-stomp!

Tova sprang to her feet. She looked around her and saw that the Saxitans were just as tall as the Svampoids and didnt even reach to her knees. She ran into the mess, careful to avoid the fleeing Svampoids, and began kicking the Saxitans.

Take that! said Tova kicking a rock creature right in its center. The creature shattered and its rocky limbs scattered in all directions. You leave them alone you stupid rocks! Tova chose her targets quickly and carefully, giving them swift kicks, scattering them everywhere. Very soon the Saxitans stopped chasing the Svampoids and focused their attention on Tova. They all lumbered towards her shouting Stomp! Stomp! and began to bat at her shins and leap at her. But Tova was enormous compared to the Saxitans, and with one kick she knocked out dozens of the blundering rock-men.

The Saxitans, however, were many in number, and there seemed to be no end to them. With every one that Tova obliterated, two more took its place. Soon she was feeling overwhelmed and backed up towards the gaping black hole. All at once the Saxitans attacked her knees.

Ouch! said Tova, and she fell backwards onto the ground. The Saxitans cheered and leapt upon her, piling themselves higher and higher until Tova was submerged in a sea of wriggling rocks. The Svampoids looked on in horror as Tova disappeared and the pile of rocks got higher at higher. At last the Saxitans stopped chanting, and not a noise could be heard.

Suddenly a fist shot up in the middle of the pile and the Saxitans exploded outward, crumbling as they were dashed against the walls and ceiling. Tova pulled herself up out of the pile and did her own stomping, smashing the Saxitans until they disintegrated. More rock-men emerged from the dark, gaping hole, but before they could get very far Tova was there and kicked and punched them to pieces. Soon the pile of rocks had grown so high that the dark opening was covered. The movement in the room ceased and Tova leaned forward, panting. She could hear the Saxitans knocking about on the other side of the big stone pile, but there was no way they could get through now. Tova had effectively sealed off the entrance, and using the Saxitans themselves to do so!

Hooray for the top-dweller! cried Magsvamp, and the Svampoids all cheered and sprinkled their green spores everywhere.

Ah, it was nothing, said Tova, but the Svampoids cheered nonetheless. Oh no! she said, suddenly. I had forgotten what time it was. I need to get back home. It is getting late, and my parents will be worried!

Magsvamp approached her and gave her a crown made of the tops of purple mushrooms. She placed it on her head and it fit perfectly, smelling of sweet honey with a faint earthy hint.

You are now the Queen of the Svampoids! said Magsvamp happily. Come visit us often and when you do, you will be treated as royalty. All hail the Queen of the Svampoids!

Hail! Hail! Hail! called the Svampoids, and they all began to dance and sing.

How do I get home? asked Tova, and Magsvamp chuckled.

Oh, thats easy! You are now the Queen of the Svampoids, so the mushrooms will do your bidding. See that big one over there? Sit on it and tell it where you want to go! Magsvamp pointed at a large umbrella-like mushroom in the corner of the nursery. Tova approached it and leapt upon it.

I want to go home, said Tova. The mushroom shivered and then began to grow. The Svampoids waved goodbye as Tova was carried upwards by the growing mushroom. The mushroom bent towards the city and soon Tova was looking down upon the mushroom houses and lampposts from the top of the chamber. The mushroom then went into the small tunnel where she had come from until it reached the hollow tree, and then went up the trunk. Tova squinted as the vines and spider webs sped past. Soon a dim light appeared and before she knew it, Tova was cast out of the tree trunk and tumbled onto the grass. As she sat up, a familiar pinecone shot from the trunk and bonked her on the head.

Ooch! she said, but she cried out happily when she recognized it and picked it up. The sun was setting and she heard her parents ringing the dinner bell, and so Tova ran home with her pinecone and mushroom crown, hungry as ever.

She decided never to tell anyone about the hollow tree or the Svampoids, but every now and then, when she missed the damp musky smell and the warm, green glow, she would climb down that tree trunk and visit her little kingdom, and she always received a warm welcome.

A friend of mine posted a "naughty" quiz on her bilboard and asked me to take it. Here are my responses to her quiz:

1. Would you have sex with me?
Answer: I don't understand. After all I already have a sex. I am male. Surely you have a sex too. Aren't you female?

2. What positions would u want to b in?
Answer: I would want to be in whatever position is the best paying.

3. Would u suck/LICK me ?
Answer: Only if you were made of chocolate. But you aren't. So I wouldn't.

4. Would u f*** me hard?
Answer: The word "f***" confuses me. After all, it can be used in so many different ways; do you want to "f***" me up, do you want to "f***" around, I don't give a flying "f***", etc. and so forth.

5. Would u hav sex with me the first night u met me?
Answer: Again, this is rather confusing. As I mentioned above, I am already male, and I can hardly have another sex. That would be... weird. As far as you go, I already know you, and the first time I met you I didn't have this additional "sex" that you keep referring to. So this question is rather pointless isn't it?

6. Would u let me pull your hair while i did you?
Answer: Did me what? Are you asking me what I did while you did something? Or are you wanting to pull my hair while I'm doing something else? Well, I suppose my hair is rather glorious and is an object worthy of admiration. Especially my beard. So Yes, I suppose you can pull on it, just once, to satisfy your curiosity. But not while I'm driving a car. That would be distracting.

7. Would u do me in the shower?
Answer: Ok so I need to just comment here on your grammar and spelling. First of all, it is spelled "you" not "u". Sorry, but that is just very frustrating. Now that we have that settled, I think I need to inform you on the proper usage of the words "do" and "did". They work best in sentences like the following: "Did you see what I did while in the shower?" or "You dont mind me taking a shower, do you?" "Would you do me in the shower" just doesn't make sense. So, in answer to your question, I would have to know what it is I would be doing while in the shower.

8.Would u hancuff me or tie me up to the bed and then do me?
Answer: Um, why would I handcuff you? Did you do something wrong? If you did, you had better call the police and turn yourself in. Or, if you prefer, head to Canada, but do it fast because the cops are pretty tricky when it comes to hunting down convicts. You will have to learn a new language and customs in order to adapt to life in Canada. I refer you to many episodes of South Park, for they depict Canadians correctly.

9. Would u have 3-some with me?
Answer: I would have a three-some sub sandwiches with you. I could have one and a half sandwiches and you could have one and a half sandwiches. But the third sandwich that we split would have to be without tomatoes. Oh, how I hate tomatoes.

10. What about me makes u want to hav sex with me?
Answer: ARG ok its spelled "have" not "hav" and "you" not "u"! Ok? Ok. And as I have said already so many times in this ridiculous thing, I already have a sex; I am MALE. Don't you listen? Bah!

11. Would u talk dirty to me while we sexed?
Answer: ...um, I am at a complete loss for words. What is this "sexed"? Are you talking about copulation? Where did this come from! Here we are talking about Canadians and sub sandwiches and all of a sudden you start talking about sexual intercourse? That is a bit sudden! And no, I wouldnt. Thats just gross. Besides, my "dirty" talk doesnt go much farther beyond, "Oh, youre a grimy little urchin, arent you? Yeah, thats right, youre so dirty you had better... shower, or something...yeah."

12. Where would you do me?
Answer: *sigh* LEARN TO SPEAK ENGLISH

13. Would u do me in front of people?
Answer: REFER TO ABOVE COMMENT

14. Would u do me again and again?
Answer: Wait a minute... I think I may have just had an epiphany. When you say "do me" are you again referring to sexual intercourse? It all makes sense now. Granted, I had to take quite the mental leap to convert "mutual genital copulation" to "do me", but I think I see the connection. So all this time you have been asking me to... "do" you? AHHH what the heck man? NO I WONT DO YOU. Stop asking. Please.

15. Would u do me in the rain?
Answer: If I wont "do" you in the shower, what makes you think I'll "do" you in the rain? Water is cold.

16. Would u mind if we did it like a porn star?
Answer: Yes I would mind! Porn stars have diseases! I know of one highly contagious disease they all have and it is called "gopher-itus". At any moment a gopher will pop out of some random orifice and sing "blue moon" before ducking back inside. It is a horrible, horrible disease, and I do not want to catch it!

17. Would u have phone sex with me?
Answer: I...wha...what the hell is phone sex?? I am so, so confused right now. I was barely able to wrap my mind around your vulgar concept of the word "do", but phone sex? Are you talking about having intercourse with a telephone? IT IS AN INANIMATE OBJECT! It is plastic and coursing with electricity. Are you crazy? Ugh!

18. Would u cheat on me?
Answer: Normally I don't cheat when playing board games. I was tempted one time while playing monopoly to cheat, but I didnt and ended up losing Pine Street. It was very disappointing. But you are a special case. I find your grammar and obtuse concept of sexuality so annoying that, yes, if we were playing monopoly, I would indeed cheat on you. You deserve it.

20. If I gave u my heart would you love it or let it go?
Answer: Um, if you gave me your heart you would be DEAD. You see, the heart is the funny little organ in your chest, that pumps blood throughout your body, and you cant very well live without a heart, now can you? If you gave me your heart I would probably just donate it to science so someone could use it. Or feed it to my dog.

21. Would you do me once and leave me the next day?
Answer: *sigh*

22. Would u tell me the truth no matter what it is or what you
do?
Answer: I'm afraid to answer this one, because, remembering your strange conception of the word "do" from the past twenty-one questions, I am concerned about your usage of the word in this sentence. But after careful consideration, I think you mean to use it correctly. So to answer your question, no I wouldnt. Do you really want me to? Think about it. If you came up to me and said, "Does my butt look fat?" and I answered, "Why, yes it does. In fact, it reminds me of the profile of a hairy yak grazing on some grass" you would undoubtedly be upset with me, even though I was speaking the truth. Women generally don't want men to speak the truth.

23. Are u gonna re-post this to see if and how I want to do you??
Answer: Honestly, after all of this, I could really care less.

24. How big is ur d***/b***s?
Answer: I don't know. How big is your clavicle? How big is your appendix? For surely, the size of body parts are sooooooo important.

och Gerden was a beautiful house that sat on a small, grassy hill overlooking a slowly moving lake. The house and lake were nestled in the woods, which were full of many tame and beautiful animals that would drink from the lake and sleep on the grass. Loch Gerden belonged to Mr. and Mrs. Stout who had lived there ever since they were married. Their children were named Kyle and Luke, and the two boys had lived there since before they were born.

Kyle and Luke would spend their days making forts in the woods and trees, dressing up like animals or forest men, inventing secret calls and shouts that only each other could understand and swimming in the lake. There was a small sunken boat at the bottom of the lake which provided endless fascination for the two boys. They would take the biggest breath they could hold and swim to the wreckage to poke around in hopes of finding treasures. They once found an oar (which became a spear) and a wheel (which became a shield) but never anything of value. That didn't matter to the boys however, for the real treasure was the swim and the search and the mere hope of finding something lost and forgotten.

The house itself was also a source of intrigue to Kyle and Luke for, unbeknownst to their parents, it was filled with secret tunnels, trap doors, movable walls and cracks that only the boys could fit through, and when the weather was too nasty to play outside the boys would lose themselves in the endless tunnels and passages beneath and within the house.

But one day Dad came home from work wearing a sad face. He was a teacher at a local university and spent his time in his study, thumbing through ancient books covered with dust, or sitting in his favorite easy chair by the fire smoking his pipe and reading. But this day he didn't thumb through any books and he didn't light his pipe. Instead, he and Mom took the boys aside and sat them down.

"Kyle, Luke, I am afraid we have some bad news," said Dad. "We are putting the house up for sale and moving to the city."

"Selling the house? What for!" cried Kyle in dismay.

"Well son," said Dad, "some of my colleagues at the university do not like the fact that I live so far away from the school. They say that I need to keep up with the times, and that I need to move into an apartment in the city so that I will be closer to the university. They say that I need to immerse myself in an urban culture and that I am too out of touch with reality all the way out here in the forest."

"But we don't care about all that," said Luke. "We like this house and have been here all our lives. You can't sell the Loch!"

"Now, now, boys," said Mom. "Your father and I don't like the idea any more than you do. But Dad is next in line for a big promotion. He could become chair of his entire department, and that is a very important position. He needs to do what the school says or they may give his position away."

"B-but we don't care about that," said Kyle. "What lake will we swim in? What forest will we play in? We can't do that in the city!"

"I know this will be a tough transition for you," said Dad solemnly. "But in the end, I have to do what the school says or I won't get the promotion."

"But we don't care about all that!" said the boys in unison, so upset that they started to cry. Mr. and Mrs. Stout held the boys and reassured them that everything would turn out for the best, but it was no comfort. They spent the night wide awake, trying to imagine their lives in a place other than Loch Gerden. They couldn't.

The next day brought a light drizzle, and the boys stayed inside to finish their homework and to play. At around noon there was a knock at the door, and from their room the boys heard a creak and some light chatter. A moment later their mom came in with a young man and his young wife.

"Kyle, Luke, these are the Tweeds, and they are here to look at the house."

"Pleasure to meet you lads!" said Mr. Tweed and he shook their hands. The boys nodded, trying to be as polite as they could, but it was plain that they were not excited to see the Tweeds. Mom led them away to view the house and the boys sat down on the floor to sulk and pity themselves.

"Oh, what a load this is!" said Kyle at last. "How could they sell our house? We've been here for so long!"

"It's criminal that's what," said Luke. "Parents shouldn't be allowed to sell their kids' home! There should be a law against it."

"Maybe we should write to the governor. I am sure he would side with us."

"True, but it takes so long for the mail to come. If we want to do anything about it, we need to do it ourselves."

"Do you have any ideas Luke?"

"Hmmm, let me think…"

Luke and Kyle thought about how they could save their house for a long time until Kyle leapt to his feet and snapped his fingers.

"I've got it! I know how we can save the house!"

"How? Tell me!"

"Quick, to the chest!" said Kyle. The two boys ran to their chest of drawers. Kyle opened the bottom drawer and climbed in. Luke pushed it close and waited until he heard a soft knock. He opened the drawer. Kyle was gone! Quickly Luke climbed inside and knocked softly on the floor of the drawer. Slowly the drawer began to close, Kyle's huffing and grunting barely audible from behind the chest.

Kyle and Luke found themselves in a cramped passageway below the floor.

"This way, I think they are in the parlor," said Kyle, and he scuttled off, following the cracks between the wooden floorboards. A small stair appeared before them and the two boys quietly clambered up it. The path before them split, and they veered right, dodging the cobwebs that grasped at them from the floor. It sloped upwards and grew narrower and soon the boys were behind a wall of the house, crawling ever so quietly. At last they reached their destination and Kyle came to a halt. He put his finger to his lips and said, "Shhh!" and pointed towards a few gaps in the walls. Luke grinned mischievously and the two boys peered through the cracks.

"Yes it is a fine house," said Mom to the Tweeds. "There are no drafts and it is easy to maintain. Do have a seat, I will make some tea." The Tweeds sat on a couch resting against the wall and Mom left the parlor. Dad was no where to be seen.

"It is such a charming place!" said Mrs. Tweed. "It would be the perfect place to raise a family. We must buy it!"

"It is truly a gem of a find, I must say," said Mr. Tweed. Suddenly he spun around and looked at the wall behind him.

"Did you hear that hun?" asked Mr. Tweed, but his wife shook her head. "I could have sworn that I just heard some scuffling…"

"Rats, maybe?"

"Oh, I sure hope not."

Just then there was a loud bang on the opposite side of the room and the startled Tweeds leapt to their feet. They stared at the far wall but saw nothing.

"I-I heard that one," said Mrs. Tweed.

"Must be a really, really big rat." The words barely left his mouth before the two of them heard loud scraping and shuffling coming from the walls. The Tweeds held each other tightly and followed the noises with their terrified eyes. One set of scraping traveled along the wall clockwise, and the other counterclockwise. The young couple slowly stepped backwards as the noises scraped against the wall behind them and came to a sudden stop.

"M-m-many rats?" wondered Mrs. Tweed, but Mr. Tweed hushed her.

"Do you hear that? It sounds like…"

Mr. Tweed cautiously approached the couch. He heard a soft rustle, perhaps the wind, but as he got closer to the wall he realized that it was no wind at all. It was very soft, barely audible, and Mr. Tweed kneeled on the couch, placing his ear against the wall. Now it was unmistakable. He heard voices whispering, unintelligibly, but every now and then he would pick out a word, stabbing or noose or—could it be?—murder. Mrs. Tweed joined her husband and pressed her ear against the wall. The whisperings grew louder and indistinct, but then all at once they became clear and the cracked voices spoke in unison,

"The couple heard us scrape and crawl

and very soon these two will fall.

With a startled scream

and a clanking chain,

we'll come at them through the wall!"

The terrified Tweeds glanced at each other with gaping mouths and then stared at the wall.

Suddenly two horrible screams pierced the air and the Tweeds tumbled over backwards onto the floor. Something began to bang the wall very rapidly, bam-bam-bam-bam! and the screaming continued, but by this time the Tweeds were no longer curious and leaped to their feet. They dashed out of the parlor and down the hallway towards the door. Mrs. Stout had a tray of tea and was walking towards them. She gasped as the young couple dashed by her recklessly.

"Wait! What's wrong? Don't you want the tea?"

"Good luck selling this terrible place!" cried Mrs. Tweed and her husband took her trembling hand. The two fled out the door as if the house was on fire and it slammed shut behind them. Dad came out of the study holding his pipe.

"What was that?"

"I don't know. The Tweeds just left abruptly. I guess they didn't want the house."

"That is odd then isn't it? I wonder what got them so upset," said Dad, and he walked into the parlor. He heard chuckling from behind the walls and then, "Shh! Shh!" and all was quiet. Mr. Stout's eyes narrowed and he puffed on his pipe.

"Mmm-hmmm."

*        *        *

 week or so later, Mom came into the boy's room with some strangers and their children. Kyle sat in the middle of the room coiling some rope.

"Kyle, these are the Cornishes, the family we told you was coming to view the house today." Kyle stood and smiled.

"Pleasure to meet you!" he said and then two children stepped forward.

"My name is Sarah," said the girl, "and this is my brother Toby."

"You children have fun playing while we look at the house!" said Mr. Cornish.

"Yes daddy," said Toby, "but do not take too long for I am hungry and want some ravioli."

"Well, it may take a little while, but I am sure we can—"

"I said I want ravioli!" shouted Toby and his sister shouted, "Me too!" Mr. Cornish nodded.

"Very well, we will be quick and then go for Italian afterwards." Mom eyed the Cornishes curiously but then shrugged.

"Where is Luke at?" she asked and Kyle looked nervous for a brief moment.

"Ah…" he said, "He—that is, I haven't seen him for a while. I'm sure he will be along shortly." Mom nodded and led the Cornishes away to show them the house. Kyle sat back down and continued to coil his rope, ignoring Toby and Sarah.

"Hey, boy! Is there anything to do?" said Toby. Kyle looked up, as if noticing them for the first time.

"Hmm? Oh, to do? Why yes, there is plenty to do. For instance, I am coiling rope. Feel free to watch."

"No, no, I meant, is there anything fun to do?"

"Sure. I'm having loads of fun. There's nothing like coiling rope!"

"What do you need the rope for?" asked Sarah, and the faintest gleam of a smile flickered across Kyle's face. He looked up at them and then quickly glanced around, as if making sure no one was listening. He stood up and tiptoed towards the door, peered outside for a moment, and then quickly shut it.

"I'll tell you, but you have to promise to keep your voices down," he said. The Cornish children glanced at each other curiously.

"What do you mean?" asked Sarah but Kyle shushed her.

"Not so loud! He may be listening."

"Who?"

"Why, Luke of course."

"Luke?" asked Toby. "Is he your brother or something?" Kyle laughed.

"Oh, no! I am an only child. Luke is the name of the… the creature."

The children's eyes went wide.

"The c-creature?"

"Yes, we call him Luke because we thought it was a fitting name. As you heard, Mom wanted me to keep an eye out for him. That is why I am coiling this rope, see. I'm preparing a trap for that accursed creature!"

Just then there was a low pitched moan and a short, muffled growl. Sarah clung to her brother in fear.

"Shhh!" said Kyle. "That's him! You two noisy kids awoke him, and now he is coming!" A repetitive thumping started at the chest along the right wall, and slowly started to circle the room.

"Quick, get to the center of the room!" instructed Kyle. The terrified siblings ran to the middle of the room and Kyle picked up his rope. "All right you evil little varmint, I am here for you! Come out and prepare to be caught!" The thudding continued until it reached the wall behind the bunk bed and then stopped.

"What did it—where did it—how's it—"

"Shhh! He's just trying to catch us off guard." All was quiet for a long time and Kyle frowned.

"Where did he go?" asked Sarah with a trembling voice.

"I don't know," said Kyle. "He usually doesn't take this long to make his move."

"How long has he been here?"

"Oh, for many years now. We first discovered him eating a dead raccoon in the lawn, and when we scared him away he barred his teeth at us and gave the most horrible screech." Sarah gasped and Toby grabbed Kyle.

"Now look here, you're scaring my sister!"

"Sorry, I can stop if you want. I just thought you would like to know what we are up against."

Toby and Sarah glanced at each other and then reluctantly nodded.

"After that we didn't see him for a while, but one day we heard some noises behind the walls. I followed the noises into the basement and turned on the lights. It was then that I saw his face for the first time. He is covered from face to foot in brown, prickly hair! He has a long nose, like a possum, and ears like a raccoon. He has a tail like a squirrel and razor sharp teeth. He is very fast, and can leap from one side of a room to another as easily as breathing. He has a shrill screech that can make the strongest of men stop cold in his tracks and he has claws so sharp that he could shred through a heavy door in minutes. I've been trying to catch him for months and have had little success. But today I will not fail!"

Just then there was a hiss from behind the bunk bed. Sarah squealed but Toby hushed her and held her tight.

"There he is," said Kyle, and he let out a low chuckle. "This time I will get you Luke, this time I will get you!" He crept towards the bunk bed ever so slowly.

"What are you doing? Don't go near it!" said Toby.

"Ha-ha-ha, this day he will be mine!" said Kyle with an evil laugh and he crouched down, peering beneath the bunk bed.

"What do you see?" asked Sarah.

"I see… a crack in the wall, and a furry tail. I feel a slight breeze. I bet he has been working on this hole for months, just so he can eat me! But he won't eat me this day, no, not today! I see a pair of gleaming yellow eyes…"

"Oh!"

"I can get him… now!" shouted Kyle, and he lunged underneath the bed. There was a piercing squeal and a hiss and a growl, and Kyle began struggling with something.

"Toby! Help him!" shouted Sarah.

"You help him!"

"No, stay there, I have him!" said Kyle and he groaned and wriggled beneath the bed. "I've got you Luke, you will not escape!" There was a scared shriek and Kyle laughed, but all of a sudden his legs were pulled underneath the bed.

"Kyle!" shouted Sarah, but all the children could do was hold each other and listen, their mouths agape in terror. The bunk bed shuddered and there was a terrible thumping and clattering, and then all of a sudden Kyle screamed. Instantly the room got silent.

"Kyle? Kyle!" said Sarah, but there was no answer. "Toby, see if he's all right!"

"No! Luke may be in there still."

"But Kyle may be hurt!"

The children stood motionless in fear. After a brief moment they heard a soft growl and then a loud belch. A coil of rope shot out from under the bed landing at their feet, and along with it came a soft, low, and evil chuckle.

The children screamed and raced out of the room. They met their parents in the hallway and clutched their legs.

"We are not buying this house!" said Toby in tears.

"What? Why? What happened?" wondered Mr. Cornish.

"There are evil creatures in the walls daddy!" said Sarah. "We will not live in this house!"

"Oh come now," said Mrs. Cornish but the two children stomped their feet and squealed.

"Leave now!" they demanded and Mr. Cornish sighed.

"All right, I guess we don't want this house then. Thank you for showing it to us, and I wish you luck selling it!" The Cornishes left in a hurry and Mom thanked them for coming. She closed the door and turned to her husband.

"What do you think the children meant?"
          "Oh, they probably just played a silly game with the boys and took it too seriously. They were a fussy bunch. I'm not terribly upset that they're leaving."

"Neither am I. Who lets their children act in such a way? Well never mind. I'm going to make some sandwiches." Mom walked off and Dad took out his pipe. He walked to the boy's room. Kyle and Luke sat in the middle of the room coiling rope wearing broad grins. They looked up and waved at their father as he leaned against the wall. He took two puffs from his pipe and his eyes narrowed.

"Mmm-hmm."

*        *        *

et dressed boys, the Grimbolds are here," said Mom from the door. Kyle pushed aside his bedroom window curtains. A tan station wagon had pulled up in front of the house. A man and a woman got out and puttered around, looking at the trees and the house, taking pictures and laughing.

"Looks like two retired old people," said Kyle.

"Ah! Perfect. We should be able to have fun with them! What should we do this time?"

"I thought of the last two ideas, you think of one."

"Hmmm. Do we have any hair-spray?"

"Mom may. Why?"

Luke giggled mischievously.

"I just came up with the greatest idea!"

"Come boys! Say hello to the Grimbolds," called Mom. Luke and Kyle trudged out of their room towards the door. The Grimbolds stood in the tiled entryway gazing with open mouths at the inside of the house. Mrs. Grimbold wore a pink and purple dress with flowers on it, and had a white straw hat. Mr. Grimbold wore tan slacks and a flowery shirt, and around his neck was a camera which he picked up frequently to snap a picture.

"Why, the house is just lovely!" said Mrs. Grimbold.

"Yes dear, almost as lovely as the condo we stayed in last summer."

"The one in Aspen?"

"No, no, the one in Florida. It was too cold in Aspen. Ooo, look! Such handsome wooden beams! Is this cedar?"

"No, it's rowan," said Dad. He walked up and put his arm around Mom and smiled.

"Here, come to the living room," said Mom, "I'll get some drinks and he can tell you about the house's history."

The adults walked into the living room talking, but the boys stayed back. When the grown ups were out of sight the boys quickly ran to the door. They lifted up the entryway mat and began fingering the edges of the floor tile beneath it. Finding a firm hold, the boys grunted until the tile groaned and began to move. The boys dragged it across the floor to reveal a square hole that lead underneath the house. Luke jumped down and then Kyle after him, and it didn't take long for them to replace the tile. Only the displaced floor mat gave any hint of their secret.

"I'll be right back with some drinks, but do sit," said Mom, motioning to the couches by the fire. The Grimbolds sat and gawked at the beautiful wooden walls and the magnificent stone hearth. Dad sat in an easy chair on the other side of the coffee table and lit his pipe.

"My, this is a cozy place!" said Mr. Grimbold. "It would be perfect for a summer home."

"Oh yes, and then we could rent it out as a condo during the winter," said Mrs. Grimbold. Dad sat in his chair puffing his pipe, staring at the fire.

"Tell me," said Mr. Grimbold. "Your wife mentioned the history of this place. Is it at all interesting?" Dad glanced at them for a moment without answering, but then quickly sat up in his chair.

"Interesting? Yes I suppose, if you like that sort of thing."

"What do you mean?"

Dad sighed and set down his pipe. He leaned towards the Grimbolds as if about to tell them a secret.

"Well since you asked, I'll tell you. You see, when we chose this land to build the house, there was already an old hermit named Gerden who lived by the lake. He lived in an old stump that he had hollowed out, and he lived off of fish and squirrels. We bought this land from the government, and when we arrived to start building the hermit got awfully upset. 'Get off my land!' he would shout and he would chase the carpenters around with a large stick. I took him aside one day and explained to him that the property belonged to me and that I was going to build a house, but he didn't listen. He insisted that the land was his and promised to sabotage my efforts whenever he could."

"Goodness, is that so?" asked Mrs. Grimbold, and Dad nodded.

"Yes, but the story doesn't end there. The hermit would come onto the construction site at night and set fire to the tools, break apart the foundation and cause all sorts of mischief. But he was a clever hermit and I could never get my hands on him. He was far too swift and he knew these woods better than anyone. I called the police but they never caught the fellow, and so I placed guards around the house at night. Most of the time the guards would catch him and chase him off, but every now and then the hermit would get the better of my guards and tear down a wall or ruin the foundation."

"How on earth did you get the house up then?" asked Mr. Grimbold. The two retirees sat at the edge of the couch listening to the story intently. Dad smiled.

"We just rebuilt whatever the hermit tore down, until finally one day we managed to complete the house. The day we were to move in the hermit arrived with a box of matches, saying that he would burn it down. 'I'll raze this thing to the ground you scoundrels; this is my land!' he cried. By this time I was, of course, very frustrated with the hermit, and I told him in no uncertain terms that he would not touch my house, and if I ever saw him on my property again I would come at him with my shotgun. 'That doesn't frighten me!' he said, and he raced towards the house ready to burn it down."

Dad leaned back in his chair and chuckled, taking a puff from his pipe.

"Well? What happened!" demanded Mr. Grimbold.

"He never burned down my house, and I never got to chase him with my shotgun," said Dad coolly. "Before he could reach the house a loud roar came from the woods. It stopped the hermit dead in his tracks and he slowly turned to face the trees. An immense bear came cantering out of the woods at great pace, and charged the old hermit. 'Now, Lucky, I don't have time to play with you right now!' he shouted, but the bear didn't intend to play. When he reached the hermit, the bear gobbled him up in one giant gulp!" the Grimbolds gasped.

"Oh, what a fright!" said Mrs. Grimbold. "That poor hermit. Did you ever see the bear again?" Dad wore a peculiar grin and nodded slowly. He took one puff from his pipe and the smoke slowly escaped his mouth. Then he pointed with is pipe at the wall behind the Grimbolds. Mr. Grimbold frowned and looked behind him. Affixed to the wall above where the Grimbolds sat was the head of an enormous bear. Its mouth was open and its eyes were wide.

"Ah!" screamed Mrs. Grimbold and she stood to her feet. Dad laughed.

"Do not be frightened! He is long dead. As soon as the children were born I realized that there was no way I could let a bear wander around freely in the woods. So I went out with my rifle and hunted Lucky for days, until finally I found him fishing in a nearby stream. I shot him and dragged him back here. Just so you know, bear meat doesn't taste very good. It's too… gristly. The peculiar thing is, as I was removing the head I could have sworn I heard a gruff voice quietly whisper, 'Get off my land!'" Dad shook his head and sighed. "Must have been my imagination."

The boys sat behind the fireplace listening to the story.

"Do you remember Dad ever telling us about this before?" asked Luke.

"No, this is the first time I've heard it. I always wondered where he got that bear head."

"Get ready!" whispered Luke. "Dad is leaving!" The boys looked through the flames to where their father sat in the living room. He had stood up and was excusing himself, mentioning that he forgot about something in his study. With pipe in hand, he left the living room leaving the Grimbolds alone with the bear head. The couple stood and walked around the room examining the pictures and tapestries, avoiding the bear but glancing at it every now and then nervously. To the left of the fireplace was a mahogany chest with a beautiful globe of the earth resting on it. When they reached the fireplace they stood and stared into the lazy orange flames.

"This fireplace looks like it could warm the whole house," said Mr. Grimbold. "I've always enjoyed a real, honest fireplace rather than those silly gas fireplaces."

"Flee."

"What was that dear?" he asked.

"Hmm? I didn't say anything," said Mrs. Grimbold.

"Are you sure? I thought I heard you say—"

"Flee."

"Yes, exactly."

"Um, that wasn't me," said Mrs. Grimbold.

The two retirees stared at each other for a moment and then their eyes went wide. They heard a low chuckle coming from the fire.

"Flee!" shouted a voice from the flames, and all at once the fire roared up, shooting flames up the chimney. The Grimbolds shrieked and stepped backwards.

"Do it again!" said Kyle laughing, and Luke sprayed the fire with the hairspray.

"Flee! Flee!" shouted Kyle, but then he heard a clank. Luke recoiled from the flames.

"I dropped the can!" he said in horror. The two boys scrambled to their feet.

A huge bang! went through the house, and the fireplace roared. Flames spewed up the chimney and the heat filled the room. Mom came in carrying a tray of drinks.

"What on earth was that noise?" she asked setting the tray down on the coffee table.

"There are demons in the flames!" screeched Mrs. Grimbold clutching her face.

"Come dear, let's get out of here!" said Mr. Grimbold, but before they could flee they heard loud coughing coming from the fireplace. The globe nearby spun wildly and then the chest on which it sat moved to the right, revealing a short, dark passageway behind it. Smoke poured out and then two boys charged into the living room, covered in ash and coughing profusely.

"Luke! Kyle!" cried Mom and she rushed to them. "Are you hurt?"

"No Mom," said Kyle and the two boys shook the soot off their clothes. The boys glanced at the Grimbolds nervously. They weren't smiling.

"These boys scared us half to death!" said Mr. Grimbold angrily.

"They did?" asked Mom and Mrs. Grimbold put her hands on her hips.

"Yes! They made noises at us from behind the fire and told us to leave!" Mom laughed but the Grimbolds didn't smile, and so she coughed and faced the children.

"Now boys, that wasn't a very nice thing to do. I know you don't want to sell the house, but you can't go around scaring people. Apologize to Mr. and Mrs. Grimbold." Kyle and Luke stared at their feet, utterly defeated.

"Sorry for scaring you," they said sheepishly.

"You had better be sorry," said Mr. Grimbold. "And just for that, I think I would like to buy the house. How much—" he started, but he paused. A low growling could be heard in the room, very quiet, but slowly gaining volume.

"Does anyone else hear that?" he asked and everyone in the room nodded. The boys glanced at each other with wide eyes, and then looked at the bear. The bear's head was trembling, and the growling grew louder and louder. Mrs. Grimbold clutched her husband's hand and gasped. The growling was very loud now and the mouth of the bear began to move. At length the head came to life and the mouth opened up with a loud roar. It jerked and faced the Grimbolds, and with eyes open wide it shouted in a gruff voice,

"Get off my land!"

The Grimbolds screamed and scrambled for the door. They flung it open and dashed out of the house, raced to their car and sped away from Loch Gerden faster than the car had ever gone before.

Mom and the boys faced the bear with open mouths, but it had stopped growling. Instead a jolly laughter came from the bear's mouth, but then left and traveled the wall until it was behind a tapestry. There was a scraping sound and then suddenly the tapestry rolled up. Standing in its place was Dad, pipe in hand and laughing up a storm. The boys cheered and raced to their father, hugging his legs.

"You sneaky goat!" said Mom, but then she too laughed.

"Ah, I couldn't help it," said Dad.

"But what about the house?" said Luke. "Do we still have to sell it?"

"I've decided that I don't care whether I get promoted or not. This is our house. We built it and it is our home, and no little administrator from the university will make me sell the place."

The boys cheered and Mom walked over and kissed him.

"I wish you would have told me what you were going to do."

"I'm sorry, but half the fun was seeing your face!" Dad laughed and Mom punched him in the gut.

"Hey let's eat out tonight," said Dad. "I know a place that has the best pot pies in town!" The boys ran off to get their coats, Mom kissed him and went to get her purse, and Dad smiled, puffing his pipe. After a moment he turned around and looked at the bear.

"Thanks Lucky," he said with a wink.

And then I'll be quite awesome!

The following was a letter I wrote to a friend of mine, after having had a discussion on Islam. Being a Muslim, he did not believe many of the historical accounts I recalled, and so he asked me to come up with a well researched and documented presentation. This post is that presentation.

hen talking about race and culture, it becomes very easy to slip into stereotypes and to placate entire peoples. It is far better, in my opinion, to refrain as much as possible from using broad generalizations and second-hand observations, but rather to use first hand personal experiences to for