Hey, never done one of these spamfic things before.  I guess it's
my response to a recent thread on the ML (wish I'd kept the original
messages.)  Enjoy!

	-Mike

***
	            What's in a Name?    
        	            by Michael Noakes

     It was, as everyone in the district knew, the classic
showdown.  The pigtailed youth faced off against the bandana-clad
boy across the open clearing in the park.  A small audience,
instinctively drawn to such things, began to gather in a wide -- they
knew the perils of watching from too close -- circle around the two
martial artists.  Intermitted shafts of light cut through the troubled
skies and across the verdant arena, dappling the two in shifting
shadows.  A light wind played with loose strands of hair and edges
of cloth.  An anticipatory silence fell as the crowd strained to hear
the inevitable exchange of words.
     "So," said Ranma.
     "So."
     "What is it this time?"
     "I think you know."
     "My many evils and offences too numerous to mention
against you and Akane?"
     "Yeah."
     A long pause.  Ranma shrugged.
     "Okay.  But you don't really think you can beat me, do
you?"
     A loud crack rang out across the park as Ryoga stretched
his knuckes.  "Yes.  I do.  I've trained long and hard, Ranma.  My
path has been an arduous one, my conditioning brutal, my
instruction harsh.  I will grind you into the dust and snap your
backbone beneath my heel."
     "Youch.  Sounds rough.  Hate to disappoint you, porker,
but unless you've got some fancy knew move up your sleeve, you
don't stand a chance."
     "Ha!"  Ryoga tossed his backpack aside, dropped his ever-
present umbrella.  "I don't _need_ some fancy-smansy girly new
trick -- unlike you!  I already know more than enough to take you
down, Ranma!"
     "Whaddya mean, 'unlike me'?  I don't need no new move to
beat bacon outta you, P-Chan!"
     "Ha!"
     "Ha!"
     The impromptu but necessary flighting match out of the
way, both fighters settled comfortably into relaxed but ready
combat stances.  The audience watched breathlessly as Ranma and
Ryoga slowly moved forward, circled each other warily.  Suddenly
Ranma lashed out with a jab; it was lazily slapped aside.  A counter
jab, blocked, a riposte dodged by a tilt of the head.  A heavy pause,
the Ryoga launched forward, massive fist blurring forward in a
savage strike.  Ranma reacted faster, sidestepping and sliding
forward, foot trying for a hook-and-twist en-passant.  Ryoga
avoided the trip by lifting his leg, but for a moment his back
remained exposed; Ranma opted for a flashy ax-kick, dropping his
heel squarely on his rival's back.  As Ranma pulled his leg back
quickly Ryoga stumbled slightly, then recovered quickly.  Again
they faced off against each other.
     With the tentative testing of each other's abilities over with
-- the crowd agreed that the first round went to Ranma -- the
serious combat could begin.  Again Ryoga took the offensive,
heavy-duty punches and kicks lashing out savagely at his nemesis. 
Ranma took the defensive, dodging most, deflecting a few, his
occasional counter-strike doing little against the attacking
behemoth.  He landed a strong crescent kick to the side of Ryoga's
head, and sensing an opening, moved in for a nasty uppercut.  But
he overestimated his own strike: Ryoga, unfazed or struggling
through the pain, grabbed Ranma's arm at the wrist and yanked. 
The pigtailed boy stumbled and a heavy hammer to the small of the
back sent him to the ground.
     Ranma rolled over, but too slowly.
     "I've got you now!" yelled Ryoga, hand drawn back and
single finger extended.  The Blasting Point technique, Ranma
realized.  At this range, near-immobilized, it wouldn't finish him off
-- but it would certainly hurt him more than Ryoga.  He braced for
the explosive impact.
     "Baski Tenken!"  Ryoga poked the ground.
     Nothing happened.
     "Baski Tenken?"
     "Shut up!"
     Taking advantage of Ryoga's distraction, the pigtailed boy
sprang up and away.  Landing easily, catching a slight breeze that
ruffled his hair and made his Chinese shirt flutter in a way that was
undeniably cool, he assumed an arrogant stance.  "Heh.  Let me
show you how it's done!
     "Moukou Takahashi!"
     Nothing happened, except that a manga artist several
kilometers away sneezed.
     While Ranma looked with incomprehension upon his most-
definitely non-chi-blasting hands, Ryoga ran up.  Stopping at point-
blank range, he extended his arms.
     "ShooShoo HoboDan!"
     Nothing happened, other than a vagrant and silly
streetfighter watching from the sidelines suddenly felt unwanted and
wandered away.
     "Baka Sai Ten-pikachu!"
     "Mojo Take-a-bitch-out!"
     "Heehee Hack-a-dan!"
     "Hiryu Shoten Ha!"
     Ryoga eyes opened wide with fear for a moment, then
relaxed.  Ranma, annoyed and baffled, looked at his up-stretched
fist and blinked.  "Aw, c'mon, I said it right this time!"
     "Nope," answered Ryoga.  "You forgot a 'u'."
     Ranma lowered his fist, looked around the park, scratched
the back of his neck.  "Shit.  Well, screw this then.  I'm outta here."
     The two fighters wandered away.  The crowd, deprived of
entertainment, soon followed.

***

	You know, by the end, I think I was having trouble remembering how
the attacks were properly spelled.  I'll leave it up to others to figure
out what these misspelling would actually do...
	Later!
	-Mike Noakes
	(and, yes, I've finally returned to Choices.  Expect it some time,
soon I think, after my two exams of the 22nd)

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