Homework Nightmares (and laughs)

Ok, so my son told me his homework was complete and I foolishly didn't check it (his dad is smarter than me and when he got home requested to see it).

Anyway, he had a paper to fill out -- most of the questions he left blank -- but here is what he had for the first few questions:


Title: Who can be President

Q. How many requirements are there for being president?

A. lots

Q. Under what heading did you find your answer?

A. my mind

Q. Describe the requirements a President must meet. Explain in one sentence:

A. all of them


Ah, kids -- you gotta love them.

Do you have any homework nightmares or laughs you wish to share?

How Lord of the Rings should have Ended

My Beastiary

I love mythological creatures.

This is the creature one of my characters ride (the Prince/Captain of the army). It is pure white, just like in the picture. And in my world, it is the only one of its kind.

My question is - what's it called? Is it a winged-unicorn? Or a horned pegasus?

Since Pegasus is the actual name of the Greek mythological winged horse, is there a name for the average winged horse? My other characters ride winged-horses (without the horn) which I call pegasus in the singular and pegasoi in the plural -- does this work? Sound dumb?

All the pegasoi are the same, though they have different markings, but they are a metallic amber with rubescent flecks and gold manes and when they are in flight, they conjure the illusion of flaming horses galloping across the sky.

My bad guys ride Khimara (yes, almost the correct pronunciation for the Greek Chimera & Khimari is the plural). They are mostly muted colors - brown, mahogany, black - and are horses with lion heads and serpent tails.

I also have winged-centaurs with scorpion tails, a musimon, breathing gargoyles, a mysterious 7-horned creature, a leviathan (sea serpent), and evil fanged-frogs. (I may have more, but i can't think of them off the top of my head.

My villain is obsessed with snakes -- he has carvings of them everywhere, and I've thought of giving him one as a pet, but since Rowling did that already, I'm hesitant to copy. Thus my villain only has his crow (and those pesky fanged-frogs that his mistress insisted he needed to bring life to his garden -- he'll be trying to scheme evil plots and their croaking about drives him mad).

Jillian's Team Kicks Butt -- Again!

Why didn't they show Jillian gloat over the score of 25 - 0??? So not fair. I love Bob too, but just seeing him peeved at his team's attitude w/o getting to see Jillian was dumb.

And I could really go without the soap-opera melodrama on Bob's team too. The only one i really liked on his team got sent home last night. O well - my favorite character always seems to be on Jillian's team anyway. My favorites are the two in the pic -- I'm such a dope I can't recall their names right now.

So, if you watch Biggest Loser -- who's your favorite contestant? Who's your favorite trainer?

Excerpt

“Permission to execute Jannaeus,” Michael said.

The Prince sighed. “Denied.”

Michael stared in disbelief. “He just slaughtered two thousand people, more than half of them women and children!”

“It is not your request, but your motive,” the Prince said. “I can not grant you permission to murder him.”

Michael’s body clenched but he suppressed his rage and stormed away.

His judgment shall come, but it will not be by your hand.

Though Michael paused, he neither turned back nor responded, and then pushed through the vines. He had been able to block out the pain of Sharon’s death, fueling it into a bitter rage against Janneas which he had planned to release as he plunged his sword through his ruthless heart.

As he reined into the citadel, the shock of the Prince’s refusal waned and Sharon’s face swam before him, along with the blood seeping from her neck, and the dying light in her eyes as she stared up at him, helpless to save her.

Images of every child on that hill, of their blood staining the dirt with pools of murky rust, burned behind his eyes, and then the images blurred together in an endless sea of slaughters, as all the massacres he had witnessed came rushing over him, threatening to drown him in an endless ocean of sorrow and grief.

Part of him wanted to give in to the pain, to let the totality of his grief wash over him, but he fought against it, refusing to let it swallow him.He reached for the darkness, wrapping it around him like a cloak; the images faded and a cold numbness crept over him.

Craving the grinding sound of steel against stone, he headed for the armory.

Prologue

Crimson letters glistened across the thin sheet of parchment. Dipping the quill into the basin of blood, the white-cloaked figure inscribed the final letters across the page. A sigh escaped his lips as he closed the tome, for its completion was merely the beginning.

His finger caressed the name engraved upon the ornate cover.

The memory of his father’s words whispered through his mind. Are you certain you understand the consequences? Yes, he had answered. Yet even now, he heard the strain in his father’s voice. And you understand the sacrifice? She is worth it.He pressed his fingertips to his lips and then against her name.

Rising from the alabaster bench, he withdrew from the walled enclosure, wound his way through the lush foliage of the royal gardens, then crossed the palace courtyard. The throne room doors opened and he strode through the vast hall.

The shimmering emblem in the center of the floor cast a golden glow upon his ageless features. On the far end of the columned hall lay a tiered dais; its first level was barren, the second encompassed an array of white stones ablaze with an incessant flame, and the third held a gold throne and the one who sat upon it.

He walked through the midst of the fire, unburned by its flames. Bowing before the throne, he presented the tome to the King.

His voice was but a whisper. “It is finished.”

Chapter I

Michael’s hand clenched the hilt of his sword.

Gesturing for the battalion of Malakim behind him to halt, he crouched behind a thick wall of forest bracken. A glint of bronze flashed between the trees as a Centaur scouting party tramped into view. Bronze armor protected their abdomens, and each hand brandished a scimitar.

Once the Centaurs passed, Michael motioned for the Malakim to follow. With silent footfalls on the moss-laden ground, they tracked their quarry until the forest emptied into a spacious clearing.

A bulwark of thick shrubbery, patrolled by a company of Centaurs, formed the perimeter, and Michael knew they discovered the Centaur’s covert base.

Atop a large mound stood Vafar, the Centaur general. Beside him, a green and brown banner rippled in the breeze. Vafar snorted as the scout leader approached. “What news?”

“My lord, the Malakim army advances on the decoy.”

Vafar’s lip curled. “Very well.”

Dread welled within Michael. Yet again, the bulk of the Malakim army pursued the wrong path. He leaned towards Mardikel, the Malakim lieutenant crouched beside him. “We must take them.”

“Are you daft?” Mardikel asked. “We have yet to defeat them with several legions, yet you fancy we overtake them with a mere battalion?”

Michael fixed his gaze on Vafar. The gold circlet across the general’s forehead barely tamed the mane of wild black hair that straggled past his shoulders. Like the others, his bronzed torso blended into dark fur along his winged-equestrian body, then culminated in a burnished, scorpioid tail.

“The decoy’s are heavily guarded,” Michael said. “Here, not as many are stationed.”

Mardikel shook his head. “This is madness.”

“What choice lies before us?” Michael said. “We either face them or face the commander.”

Mardikel opened his mouth to protest, then nodded agreement. Without orders, the two lieutenants had separated from the Malakim army and led a lone battalion across the Khahi river. Now they were several leagues from the others with no means of contact.

Michael motioned to the battalion who separated, nocking arrows to their bows. On his signal, strings twanged, and an onslaught of arrows struck the closest flank.

Vafar shouted a war cry.

Centaurs erupted from the trees and slashed towards them. After releasing another stream of arrows, the Malakim forsook their bows, and the clanging of steel swelled the clearing.

Although the Centaurs were larger and stronger than Malakim, Michael used their bulk against them, playing on his agility to flit around them while parrying their blows.
Forging his way towards the mound, leaving a trail of immobilized Centaurs behind him, Michael lunged for Vafar. The general reared up on his hind legs, slamming his hooves into Michael’s chest.

Staggering from the blow, Michael struggled to his feet. His eyes swept the scene. Amidst the foray, immobilized Malakim littered the clearing. He had led his men into defeat, and Mardikel’s reluctance of the ill-fated plan seared through him.

Vafar swung, forcing Michael to abandon the mound. Although the flag was unprotected, Michael could not elude the general’s onslaught of blows. His back collided against a broad trunk on the clearing’s edge. Light flickered across Vafar’s blade as the Centaur raised his scimitar.

A Malakim war-horn peirced the air.

Vafar’s dark eyes flashed as legions of Malakim infiltrated the clearing.
Seizing his chance, Michael dodged past the general and raced for the mound.

Two Centaurs rushed towards him. Scimitar raised, the closest lunged, but an arrow pierced his throat, halting him in mid-blow.

“Secure the flag!” Mardikel shouted, releasing another arrow.

Hoof beats pounding behind him, Michael bolted up the mound.

Vafar’s brawn form crashed to a halt in front of him. “My forest shall not be overtaken!”

The blow wrenched Michael’s sword from his hand, slamming him to the ground. Intent on crushing him beneath his front hooves, Vafar reared up on his hind legs.

Michael groped for his sword. His fingers grasped the hilt.

Vafar crashed down upon him.