The Dark Blade

***THE DARK BLADE***

Childhood is a time for developing one’s creativity and imagination. We buy action figures and Legos so that we can act out our own adventures. We draw pictures with our own naïve vision of what the world should be. We build things out of ordinary objects to show that there’s a world beyond their intended use. For me personally, my favorite form of creativity was coming up with ideas for videogames. One of those videogame ideas was intended to be a rival to Squaresoft’s Chrono Trigger and it was called The Dark Blade.

Chrono Trigger as a Super Nintendo game was everything a child could ask for: beautiful storytelling, emotional characters, innovative settings, and exciting game play. Who in their right mind wouldn’t want to play a game about a spiky haired teenager named Crono who travels through time in order to prevent a 1999 apocalypse using lightning magic and katana skills? Who in their prepubescent years wouldn’t have the world’s biggest crush on crossbow fighter Marle or prehistoric vixen Ayla? Who wouldn’t want to use Magus’s shadow magic or Frog’s water magic to overcome the toughest obstacles?

In my pre-teen years, I had a tall task ahead of me if I was going to formulate an RPG that would measure up to the greatness of Chrono Trigger. Therefore, I had The Dark Blade, a supremely underdeveloped story about a spiky haired teenager named David who along with his friends tries to keep the title artifact out of the hands of The Dark Sorcerer (notice the theme of darkness here?). David had the hair of Guile from Street Fighter II, a black karate outfit, ruby boots, vampire fangs (what?!), and the swords of Billy and Jimmy Lee from Double Dragon V. Oh, and he also has the lightning magic of Crono. And he starts the game by going to a carnival, just like Crono.

Being as ignorant as I was about copyright laws, I stole pieces of creative fuel from any source I could find. Princess Crystal Hershey got her last name from the chocolate bar and her outfit from Celes from Final Fantasy VI. Ninja Prince Boris Hershey got his character design from Shadow, also a Final Fantasy VI standout. Nixer (careful how you say that) is a direct rip-off of a Magic: the Gathering card that featured an old ragged man carrying a scythe. Nixer’s magical element was Aura, which is a direct theft of the Aura Bolt technique used by Sabin from Final Fantasy VI.

The Dark Blade’s soundtrack would be stolen directly from albums by The Police, The Moody Blues, Sting, and Metallica. Talk about a bunch of bands that don’t belong in the same concert! Metallica’s “Ride the Lightning” album would serve as battle music, both for normal enemies, mini-bosses, and regular bosses. The Police’s hit “Spirits in the Material World” would serve as carnival music. The Moody Blues’s song “The Voice” would serve as romantic fuel (in a time where I was too young to give a shit about love). Sting’s “Mad About You” would also serve as romantic music even though David and Crystal never officially shack up (again, because I didn’t give two shits and a flying fuck about love back then).

With all of these stolen properties, how would they mesh against the actual story? Somewhere along the way, David would use a lightsaber/baseball bat reminiscent of Star Wars and WWF Wrestlemania: The Arcade Game. He would also ride a hover cycle reminiscent of Space Quest IV. So far, so good. But then we eventually have to get to the depressive dip of the game. Turns out The Dark Sorcerer got a hold of The Dark Blade after all. With its powers, he turned the entire world’s population (except for David, Crystal, Nixer, and Boris) into stone. Turning somebody into a stone statue is straight from the Final Fantasy franchise. Having the bad guy win for a while is the same scenario that happened in Final Fantasy VI when Kefka turned The World of Balance (blue water and green pastures) into the World of Ruin (red water and wastelands).

With the innocence of a child and the creative fuel of a madman, I was sure to have my videogame idea mailed off to Sqauresoft so that they could get cracking on making it. The one thing that kept me from doing so was my brother James’s constant talk about copyright laws and what could happen if I violated them. According to him, I could have my wages garnished and my property stolen by the government. I justified my right to the profits by saying, “I could lock the doors!” Then James said that the Fire Department would come busting through to help the government take my stuff. At one point I whined, “Stop telling me these crummy facts!”, to which he said, “They’re true!”

While I didn’t want my creativity to take a backseat to copyright laws, I had no other choice as I got older and discovered how ridiculous they can be. Viacom and Disney have sued the shit out of anyone and everyone who uploaded their content onto You Tube. Disney has sued a daycare center for using Mickey Mouse decals to decorate the joint. If you want to argue lawsuits, then people these days will sue over anything, and I do mean anything. Donald Trump sued Bill Maher because the comedian said our now president was a descendant of orangutans. James Woods sued a Twitter user for saying that he was a coke head online. The more money you have, the more weight you can throw around in a courtroom. Videogame corporations have a lot of money and by proxy can throw more weight around than WWE Hall of Famers Yokozuna and Rikishi combined.

If The Dark Blade ended up becoming a novel idea in modern day Garrisonism, I suppose I could do away with all of the theft and turn it into something original and fun. People rarely play Super Nintendo games anymore (except for nostalgia purposes on ROM Emulators), so The Dark Blade would have to be a novel. David shouldn’t be such a Gary-Stu for his age, which means no vampire fangs, ruby boots, or dragon swords. Crystal and Boris shouldn’t have the last name Hershey because there have been too many jokes about skid marks over the years thanks to guys like Dave Chappelle. Nixer should have a first name that doesn’t sound like a racial slur. The Dark Sorcerer should have a real name, probably one that doesn’t have “dark” in it.

Turning this childhood videogame idea into a credible novel is a long shot, but I now have the skills and resources to do so as a 31-year-old semi-professional author. Will it rival Chrono Trigger? Ask anybody who’s ever read Occupy Wrestling and they’ll tell you “Hell no!” Then again, nothing can rival Chrono Trigger. It was a special piece of childhood heaven that can’t be taken away no matter how many game consoles 2017 can pump out. You can keep your Halos and Call of Duties and I’ll reminisce in Chrono Trigger’s beauty forever. If anything, I’m clinging to my roots so that I don’t forget how to write The Dark Blade in its truest form. One day, maybe one day David and Crono can have fantasy warfare. We’ve got ears, say cheers! By the way, in case you didn’t know, that last line was stolen from Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. I’m a bigger thief than Locke Cole from Final Fantasy VI. Damn it, I did it again!

***THE NEXT FEW DAYS***

While I’m waiting patiently for the Wrestling Observer Newsletter to come out with their 2016 awards, I’m going to have a few creative projects to occupy my time. I only have seven chapters left to read from Ashley Uzzell’s LGBT fairytale (no, that’s not a pun, shut up!) called “Once Upon a Pastry”. I’ll spend the whole day blitzing right through them and offering her my funniest and most poignant critiques. I also have a Dark Fantasy Warrior that needs drawing and his name is Lord McCain, the elf sorcerer from “Emoticon Artist”. Once I’ve officially drawn one hundred colored Dark Fantasy Warriors, I’m going to put their faces in a meme like I did with the uncolored ones. Somewhere along the way, I’ll write the shit out of Demon Axe’s twelfth chapter (don’t rush me, Writer’s Circle, I’ll get to it eventually!). Once I’m done with these tasks, I can begin work on editing the shit out of Poison Tongue Tales and getting it ready for publication. I’ve already edited the first three stories, so that’s SOME progress (again, don’t rush me, Writer’s Circle!). Once I complete these projects, then and only then can I lament not having a WWE Network subscription so that I can see this year’s Royal Rumble and see Bobby Roode win the NXT Championship from Shinsuke Nakamura at the TakeOver special before that. Wish me luck!

***TELEVISION QUOTE OF THE DAY***

DET. CLAUDETTE WYMS: Where were you last night?

SUSPECT: I was at home jerking off into a sock. You guys need the evidence?

-The Shield-

Adapting to Change

***ADAPTING TO CHANGE***

We live in an era where everything we do has the potential for artistic merit. In the past, I’ve covered topics like reusing abandoned buildings, home improvement, and building Magic: the Gathering decks, all of which qualify as being creative projects if done in an innovative way. I’d like to add something else to this list, an underrated form of creativity that often gets taken for granted: adapting to change. As long as we live our lives, life will give us all the change we need. Whether it’s good change or bad change, the only way we can seek to improve ourselves is by rising from the ashes every time.

Writers have to adapt to change on a regular basis, especially if they’re working one-on-one with an editor. An editor’s job is simple: read an author’s manuscript and point out what things worked, what things didn’t, and what could be done to improve the things that didn’t. It is not an editor’s job, however, to make these changes for you. Yes, you have a better idea of what to change, but it’s ultimately up to you to decide how you will change those things. Even if an editor gives you a solution at your request, you, the author, are ultimately the one who says “yes” or “no” to that decision. When a writer has successfully adapted to the changes his manuscript is presented with, he will have a stronger product. He may have to edit several more times after that, but every time the literature will become stronger.

Episodic television shows have to adapt to change all the time. A screenwriter can produce weeks, months, or even seasons of television far in advance. But if an actor leaves the show, budgets become constrained, or the ratings aren’t high enough, adapting to change becomes more important than ever and all of that advance television has to be rewritten and reedited to accommodate those changes.

The original version of NCIS (Washington DC) has gone through several lineup changes during its current thirteen year run. In 2005, Sasha Alexander (Special Agent Caitlin Todd) left the show for unknown reasons, so her character was sniped by an Israeli terrorist named Ari. Ever since then, the audience was treated to Ziva David, a socially awkward, yet badass Probationary Agent. In 2013, Cote de Pablo (Ziva’s actor) left the show also for unknown reasons, so her character went back to Israel due to crippling guilt. She was replaced by socially awkward NSA analyst turned NCIS Special Agent Ellie Bishop. Don’t worry, because Emily Wickersham (Ellie’s actor) isn’t going anywhere for the time being. Michael Weatherly (Tony DiNozzo) on the other hand is leaving at the end of this current season. So many changes, so little time.

The WWE has to adapt to changes all the time, so that will keep the creative writers busy for a long, long time. In 2015, there were a shit ton of injuries that prevented certain wrestlers from competing. Seth Rollins tweaked his knee and had to give up the WWE World Heavyweight Championship, which is currently being held by his former Shield mate Roman Reigns. Daniel Bryan suffered a concussion and had to give up the Intercontinental Championship, which was won by Ryback in an Elimination Chamber match, won by Kevin Owens at Night of Champions, and won by Dean Ambrose at Tables, Ladders, and Chairs. Then Tyson Kidd, Cesaro, John Cena, and Sting started getting injured. The Divas division wasn’t safe either since Paige had concussion issues, Sasha Banks injured her knee, Nikki Bella snapped her neck, and Rosa Mendes became a mother for the first time in her life. Choosing wrestlers to take these injured workers’ places is a critical decision that must be made on the fly. Entire storylines have to be rewritten all over again to accommodate these new wrestlers.

Just like with every journal, I’m going to use my own life as an example as well. My life is for the most part pretty routine, humble, and satisfying. Major changes in my life are rare, but when they do happen, they usually come in the form of a schizophrenic attack. Offensive images and sounds will invade my mind to where I “flinch” away from them to minimize the pain. But as I flinch from them, I’m also flinching from other aspects of my life that I derive pleasure from, the most important one being heavy metal music. How do I adapt to a schizophrenic attack? Listening to more new age music is my most common method. I’ve written a shit ton of heavy metal song lyrics during schizophrenic episodes and they were well received by the public. But just recently, I’ve had to learn how to confront my schizophrenic demons. I had to play the images and sounds in my head so many times without flinching until the fear of them is conquered and dead. I’m no longer afraid of my own mental demons because I looked them in the eye and said, “Fuck you, I’m not moving!” The gatekeepers to my happiness have gone home…but for how long?

Change can come in many forms: a new city to live in, the death of a loved one, the loss of a job, a physical injury, and many others that are easy to relate to. Learning how to live a normal life in the face of these changes is what will make you strong enough to never regret those changes happening. Change is inevitable, but strength is forever. No amount of change will make life impossibly hard to live. You simply learn to work around those issues and face the next challenge with a warrior’s spirit. Any piece of art can be created from the remains of destruction. The main character from Pink Floyd the Wall smashed up his hotel room and turned the broken furniture into a collage. It’s an insane way to think about it, but then again, insanity and creativity have strong ties to each other. We’ve got ears, say cheers!


***DARK FANTASY WARRIORS***

The next warrior to be drawn will be a villainess named Domino Gunn. If you’ve been following my art career in 2007, you would have seen her in a movie script called World of Darkness, where she was a lingerie-wearing dark paladin whose weapon of choice was a ball in chain. In today’s world, she’s a villainess in the Poison Tongue Tales short story “Stone Cold”. She tries to seduce the vengeful barbarian Brutus Warpath, but gets her throat ripped out instead. A lovely fate for a lovely lady.


***MOVIE DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

DANTE: You know what the real tragedy of all of this is? I’m not even supposed to be here today!

RANDAL: Oh, fuck you! Fuck you, pal! Jesus, there you go again trying to pass the buck like I’m the source of all your fucking misery! Who closed the store to play hockey?! Who closed the store to go to a funeral?! Who tried to win back his ex-girlfriend without even discussing how he felt with his present one?! You want to blame somebody for all of this?! Blame yourself! “I’m not even supposed to be here today!” You sound like an asshole! Jesus, nobody twisted your arm to be here! You came here on your own volition! You like to think the weight of the world is on your shoulders like, “This place would fall apart if Dante wasn’t here!” You overcompensate for having what’s basically a monkey’s job! You push fucking buttons! Anybody can waltz in here and do what we do! You make it sound so much more epic, so much more important than it really is! Christ, you work in a convenience store, Dante! And badly, I might add! I work in a shitty video store, badly as well! You know, that guy Jay has it right! He has no illusions about what he does for a living! Us, we like to think we’re so much more important than the people who come in here to buy a newspaper or, God forbid, cigarettes! We look down on those people like we’re so advanced! Well, if we’re so fucking advanced, why are we working here?!

-Clerks-

Kill Me or I'll Quit

What a waste of fucking time, said Norman Long in his head. He sat on one of the fluffy couches of the Lion Pie Hotel with his back hunched over and his head hung low. Every once and a while, he would ball up his fist and pound the couch cushion he was sitting on. Anyone who was around him and saw the act of frustration walked a little faster toward wherever they were going, even going so far as to shield their children.

Norman Long had the look of a brooding high school nerd even though he was much older. His black hair was shaggy and unkempt. His beard was out of control as well. His glasses had a hard time staying on the bridge of his nose while he held his head in that position. The black leather jacket, blue jeans, and white Star Wars T-shirt gave off a gothic geek combination to anyone who actually had the stones to judge him at that moment.

“Kill me or I’ll quit!” In the finals of the Magic: the Gathering card game tournament, those were the simple instructions Norman gave to his opponent, Larry Bryce, a middle aged man with a gray and brown ponytail and beard, glasses of his own, and a black Pink Floyd T-shirt with gray jeans and sandals. Peace, love, and understanding was the motto Larry portrayed with his hippie ensemble. In fact, the final match was so peaceful that Norman actually considered falling asleep to show his boredom.

Larry could have finished off this overly drawn out game of Magic: the Gathering anytime he wanted. He had an army of creatures in play and they were much bigger and stronger than Norman’s piddly ass Llanawar Elves. Just one big ass stampede of ogres, orcs, and berserkers and the battlefield would have been covered in elf juice and Norman’s tears. But instead, Larry decided to stall for as long as he could just so he could flaunt his arrogant might. He didn’t kill Norman off in that game. Norman packed up his cards and forfeited the game, leaving the older player with a big fat five thousand dollar check.

Had this been a friendly game, Larry’s sins would have been forgivable in Norman’s eyes. But it was five thousand dollars, which would have been enough to cover his travel and hotel expenses while still having enough to pay his apartment bills back home and get something extra for fun. He could have bought World of Warcraft action figures. A new laptop. An MP3 player with thirty gigabytes of memory. But instead, Norman sat in the hotel lobby with pieces of his broken heart in his hands and a possible eviction notice on the way.

Just when he was ready to burst into a waterfall of tears, he felt a feeble hand pat him gently on the shoulder while the person said, “Good game!” That voice belonged to Larry Bryce, who walked past him only to stop at Norman asking him in an aggressive tone what he said. The defeated MTG player stood up and scowled at Larry with vicious eyebrows and dewy eyeballs.

“Come on, man, it’s just a game. You’re pissed off about a game of Magic?” said Larry.

“Don’t bullshit me, Larry!” grunted Norman, catching the attention of clerks and patrons around him. “You could have ended that game anytime you wanted! Instead you chose the cheap way to win by boring me to tears! Magic games are supposed to be fast-paced and fun! That’s the whole reason I started playing in the first place! Well, guess what, Larry! I’ve played against arrogant nut sacks like you before! And if there are more people like you out there…” Norman pulled his deck of Magic cards out of his jacket pocket and said, “I don’t need this anymore! I quit!” With a basketball like hand motion, he threw his deck into a nearby garbage can.

Larry shook his head no and pulled the deck out of the garbage can. “You know, buddy, if you’re not going to play anymore, then don’t waste a perfectly good deck of cards. There are lots of players in this hotel who would love to have something like this.”

“And once again, you’re so full of shit that you’re bursting at the fucking seams!” shouted Norman with more vigor than before. He speed-walked up to Larry and pulled the deck of cards out of his hands before ripping them into pieces. He then threw the pieces of confetti into Larry’s face and watched him shake his head no yet again.

“Do you have any idea how expensive Magic: the Gathering cards can be? That’s easily hundreds of dollars down the drain, buddy. Look, if you want to have a conniption over a game of Magic, that’s fine with me, but don’t take your anger out on those expensive cards. You wouldn’t rip up the Mona Lisa in a fit of rage, would you?”

Norman smiled psychotically and shook his head before grabbing Larry by his Pink Floyd T-shirt and grunting through gritted teeth, “No, asshole! I’ll rip you up instead!” From there, shoves and punches were thrown between the two Magic players. Several bystanders, including hotel staff, tried to break them up, but they too were met with strikes and shoves. There was even one instance where Norman and Larry both dove over the couch together.

***

In hindsight, fist fighting over a game of Magic (even though five thousand dollars were on the line) was dumber than eating a pepperoni pizza in Israel. In the Paulson City Police Department holding cell, Larry and Norman sat across from each other with hunched over spines and wicked facial expressions. They were the only ones that night who had to cause trouble, thus they were alone together. They could have ripped each other apart that night if it wasn’t for the guard standing at the entrance.

They didn’t speak to each other for a whole half hour before Larry broke the silence with, “Just so you know, you’re going to be serving this jail sentence alone, buddy. I’ve five thousand dollars richer, which means I can post bail. What have you got to show for your rage, huh? You could have sold those Magic cards to a lucky kid and have your bail posted as well. Instead you chose to…”

“Can it, Larry!” interrupted Norman. The tension between the two troublemakers would have had the hotel patrons and staff quaking in their shoes if they were still at the Lion Pie. “You think you’ve got me figured out? You think you know what the hell is going on here? That deck wouldn’t have done anybody good anyways! It lost to yours, right? It didn’t make me five thousand dollars richer, did it?”

“That’s all you care about?” asked Larry when he stood up. “You play Magic: the Gathering for money? It would be a cool professional gig, but that’s not something that would look good on a resume. You know what looks good on a resume? Being a tech support guy for five long years and providing for a wife and two children. That’s what I’m doing with my life. Playing Magic is just for fun. Did you already forget how to have fun?”

“Sure!” yelled Norman as he stood up and put his face in Larry’s. “I’ll have all the fun in the world when I get my ass evicted! I was depending on that five thousand dollars to keep my apartment! Not only am I now going to be homeless, but I have this mental image of you rubbing it in my face during the tournament finals! So from now on, every time I beg someone on the street corner for money, I’m going to see your smiling jackass face handing me a bottle cap or a rusty wing nut!”

“First of all, dingus!” screamed Larry. “You don’t have to worry about being homeless, because you’re going to jail for assault! Second of all, if you were so dependent on rent money that you’d take a chance with a Magic: the Gathering tournament, you might be taken to a nut house instead of jail, because that’s the craziest fucking thing I’ve ever heard of! Only one person could have won that tournament! One person out of God knows how many! Somebody had to win and that someone was me! I’ve got news for you, buddy-boy! There’s always somebody out there who’s going to be better than you! The only reason why I won was because I had the luck of the draw when others didn’t!”

Larry shook his head, chuckled in frustration, and sat back down on the bench. “You took a chance and your chance didn’t pay off. Then again, you shouldn’t expect it to. Magic: the Gathering is based on fairytales. Real life is not, my friend.”

Those harsh, but true words hit Norman like a heavyweight boxer’s punch to the gut. His eyes were sore, his heart was broken yet again, and all he could do was sit on his side of the holding cell and wait for dawn to come. Larry was an arrogant Magic player, but he was right on all levels. This was the fuel Norman would take with him to the dream world that night. He curled up on the bench and hugged himself for warmth. He didn’t want to look at Larry anymore because of what other harsh truths he had in store. No more hammers brought down on Norman. Just sleep. Just a long, dreamless, haunted sleep.

***

The sunshine-filled morning descended upon the police station. No amount of burning light could wake Norman up from his empty slumber. A knight stick rapping the cell door repeatedly, however, was just obnoxious enough to bring Norman Long back into reality. The stiff and sore sleepyhead slowly sat upright in his bench as his eyes adjusted to the morning light. He looked around and thought he was still exhausted when he saw that the cell door was open. It was the furthest thing from a dream, however. “Mr. Norman James Long? You’re free to go.”

Norman formed a confused look on his face before the prison guard said, “What are you waiting for? I said you’re free to go!” The dejected Magic player stood up and trudged out of the holding cell. He was guided to the front desk to collect his personal belongings in a manila envelope. He opened the envelope once he got outside the station and sat down on the concrete stairs to inspect everything.

Glasses? Check. Wallet? Check. Keys? Check. Cell phone? Hell yeah. An ass load of cash? Check. Wait a minute. An ass load of cash? With a note attached to it? What the hell was going on here. Norman unfolded the piece of paper and read it with much clearer eyes than when he exited the station.

“Dear Norman: I have to admit that I acted like an ass back at the Lion Pie Hotel. I’m sorry about that. There’s no excuse for drawing the game out that long and I could tell you were pissed off about it. I posted bail for you and there should be enough cash in this envelope to pay off your rent for the month. If you unwrap the wad of cash, you’ll see something else in there that will bring your hopes up. I’m bailing you out on one condition: you’re getting back into Magic and you and I are going to play more often until you’re good enough to enjoy yourself. Never give up. Never. Yours truly, Larry Bryce.”

Norman pulled the rubber band off of the wad of cash and saw a deck of Magic: the Gathering cards underneath. He looked through them and saw the same hulking ogres and dragons Larry used to defeat him. A tear escaped Norman’s eye and gently splashed the manila envelope. “Thank you, Larry,” he said softly to himself.

Misty Blades

NAME: Misty Blades
AGE: 31
OCCUPATION: Fox Ninja
CANON: Final Fantasy Hardcore 2


Misty Blades came from the same batch of animal warrior villains as Jacob Slash. In this case, she was formerly known as Atir Mystblade and she was scheduled to be a kitsune ninja. I have no idea where I got the idea to create a bunch of animal warriors, but the influence for Misty Blades could easily be traced to Magic: the Gathering. This was around 2005 and 2006, so this would have been the time where Hasbro was releasing Japanese-themed cards such as samurais, ninjas, dragons, demons, and of course, anthropomorphic animals. The Kitsune Blademaster, a fox samurai with first strike and bushido 1, was one of my favorite cards to use in white decks and could have very well been the inspiration for Misty Blades even though Misty is a ninja and not a samurai.

Seeing as how Final Fantasy Hardcore 2 went defunct before I had the chance to use my animal warrior bosses, Misty didn’t get much of a chance to shine. She has no background information, no storyline involvement, and no real reason for being created in the first place. All I wanted was a fox ninja who could slash shit up and get the fuck out of dodge before anybody caught her. Foxes are cool. Ninjas are cool. Fox ninjas are really goddamn cool! She had a lot of buzz generated, but I didn’t know what to do with her. She was comparable to CM Punk, who was signed to WWE right around the time Misty Blades was conceived (2005-2006). Punk earned a lot of fame around the world, but was creatively stifled in WWE because nobody knew what to do with him.

I’m not going to let Misty Blades leave my creative world the same way CM Punk left WWE after being battered, bruised, and sore for many years. Don’t get me wrong; Misty is going to take a beating one way or another, but not for the wrong reasons. Misty is going to count for something. In the case of her next story (which would in reality be her first one), she will play the role of a villain. Yes, foxes are cute and don’t normally act like villains, but then again, some ninjas do act like villains. And if I completely have to strip Misty of her cute factor, I could always give her razor-sharp teeth, drooling rabies, and neon green eyes. Seriously, what’s it going to take for my audience to see how dangerous and how bitchy this fox woman is? Her last name is Blades, for Christ’s sake.

So what kind of villainy role could we give to Misty and flesh out her resume a little bit? She could be a heartless mercenary. She could assassinate someone for political reasons. Hell, let’s combine those two things and make her into one badass bitch! It worked perfectly for Mileena from Mortal Kombat 2. Yes, Mileena looks nice on the outside, but when she takes off her mask and reveals her sword-like teeth and witch-like nose, you’d better run for the fucking hills, my friend! Maybe that’s what it takes for Misty Blades to be a convincing villain. She could easily be a fox version of Mileena! Oh, my inner geek is going nuts right now! If I’m not careful, I could have a nerd-gasm all over my keyboard! Actually, having any kind of orgasm for Mileena is virtually impossible (unless you leave her mask on, of course).

What about the weapons Misty will carry? We know she’s going to use a sword since most ninjas do. But what if the edges on that sword were jagged and bloody? What if she was using nunchucks made of thigh bones? Or a ribcage shield? Or a flail that’s really just someone’s spinal column and skull? How about a shuriken made entirely out of monster teeth? If your inner geek is ready for a mental institution just like mine is, get ready for this: a spear with deer antlers at the end instead of a steel tip! Or a whip that’s really a live snake! With all of these possibilities for her character and her weapon choices, it makes me wonder why she was unemployed in the first place! Hehe!

The last thing I’ll harangue you guys with his Misty’s dialogue. When I write dialogue for my characters, I try to make it as realistic as possible. If I wanted to add some witty dialogue for a character with a sharp tongue, I could very well do that. But would that work for a monstrous fox like Misty? I’m leaning towards grunts and gurgles, myself. Or she can have no dialogue at all. Or she could swear up a storm. It would have to be something crude enough to make her a monster and mysterious enough to make her a ninja. Maybe a steel tongue isn’t the best option for her. Oh well, there are other characters I can give snappy dialogue to. No sweat!

When I was looking for post-college employment from 2010 to 2013, the only experience I had was educational. Since I’ve never had paid employment before, I had to enhance my resume to make my education look like a blessing straight from the heavens. I wasn’t successful in finding a job. However, I did a little resume enhancement with Misty Blades despite her not being experienced. The difference is, Misty is going to make her mark sooner rather than later. And that mark is probably going to be a trail of blood, bones, and vomit leading all the way to the tip of her jagged sword. Yikes!

　

***WRESTLING QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“We were born and bred to rip and shred!”

-Konnor, one half of The Ascension-