Every 500 years the world is threatened by destruction, and can only be saved by the chosen one, the Shaman King. The Shaman King is the one who after uniting with the Great Spirit not only rescues the world from annihilation, but whose wishes can also shape the course of the world for the next 500 years. In order to prevent anarchy among the spiritualists of the world over the right to have this great honor, a tournament was established to choose the next Shaman King. Our story concerns a particularly odd group that after a period of haphazardly searching the American Southwest were finally nearing the end of their quest, Patch Village, the sight of the second round of the Great Tournament.
“Ah, as much as the open road is the great symbol of life itself eventually it must end as we come to our destination, whether it is chosen by ourselves or fate itself,” wept a tall man with outrageous outfit, and an even more outrageous haircut.
“Give it a rest Ryu, this isn’t one of Anna’s soaps, so can the melodrama,” replied a certain blue-topped, Ainu snowboarder.
Not one to be left out of heaping insults on the oaf Ren interjected, “Forget it Horo Horo, an ass cannot stop braying anymore than a leopard can change its spots.”
A fellow shaman just couldn’t resist a setup this good, “Hey Ren careful, Mic can’t get everything off in the shower you know.”
“Mrrow,” was the only reply of the aforementioned jaguar spirit.
Of course their leader took this opportunity to try and restore peace to the travel-worn band of shamans, “Come on everyone, and look on the bright side, according to Lililala’s directions we should be at Patch Village in about a week or two. Besides we should relax since the X-Laws look like their more focused on Hao at the moment, and Hao hasn’t tried anything since he sicced Peyote and his mariachi calavera dolls on us. So let’s just calm down, it’s not like we’re in any immediate danger...”
As if responding to Yoh’s proclamation an out of control van began to roar from out of nowhere and started to seemingly chase the group in a madcap manner. After being sent into an aerial somersault courtesy of a natural pothole, the van slammed down right-side-up not 8 inches from Chocolove’s face causing the would-be comedian to pass out. After a few seconds the passenger doors flew open and six people, ranging in age from about thirteen to their mid-twenties, fell out into a pile on the ground.
Almost immediately after exiting the vehicle, the eldest rushed out of the tangle to the nearest bush, and proceeded to evacuate his lunch to a new location. After a few moments of yawning in Technicolor, the man in the red trench coat staggered back to the van and proceeded to make his peace with the driver, “What’s the matter with you, are you trying to get us all killed before we even get to Patch Village?”
In response a bespectacled man wearing archeologist attire, and a scarf with an odd watermelon pattern, literally leapt out of the driver’s seat feet first (without opening the door), “Well Vash, I am the only one here that knows how to drive; besides calm down we’re all still in one piece aren’t we?”
“That’s debatable Keitaro,” replied a groaning copper-topped, young lady in a tai-chi tang, “I swear, sometimes your driving puts my grandpa’s methods for impact training to shame.”
Meanwhile next to the lady, the others were starting to sort themselves out. The next to struggle themselves upright were a pair of seventeen-year-old girls, a blonde and a brunette. Of these two the blonde was the first to talk, or in this case groan, “I didn’t feel this sore when my dad started teaching me swordsmanship.”
Her companion soon added to the growing pool of complaints, “Well at least it’s not as bad as the time I fell off that cliff back home, but then again that isn’t saying much.”
The last two members of this group, a fifteen-year-old boy and a thirteen-year-old girl, were still lying on the ground. Out of the boy came only a series of weary and agonizing groans, “Getting run over by Haruko didn’t feel this bad."
As for the girl she was utterly still the entire time then suddenly… sprung into a reclined sitting position, and happily replied, "That ride was fun, I want to go again!” triggering a massive face-fault from both groups (or at least those that were currently vertical).
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(Posted Thu, 07 Jul 2005 17:25)
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らんま1/2 © Rumiko Takahashi
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