The Mad Monk He was training to be a monk but he really wanted to be an assassin. Each night when he did his walk about he would find a dark part of the woods and practice his karate-do. Punching holes in dead logs and kicking stumps, his deep orange robes whooshing around him. One night he slipped and skinned his knuckles on a rock, when they asked what happened back at the temple he said he slipped and skinned his knuckles on a rock. He was also addicted to porn and cigarettes, both forbidden in the temple. Some nights instead of practicing his karate-do he would find a dark part of the woods and smoke a butt while he whacked off. It was not easy for him to be a monk. When he was eight years old his mother passed away after a motorbike accident and his dad left for the city, leaving him with his aunt who already had four kids of her own and no husband. She said he would have to be a monk or starve to death. Now at twelve he was as hard as a twelve year old can be. He gave himself a tattoo of flaming tiger on his right forearm when he was eleven out of a bamboo shaft and a sowing needle. Although the flaming tiger looked like a bear splashing in a puddle, people got the idea. He was removed from the city temple and placed in the forest temple when the elders found out he was seducing young tourist women. It was even rumored he had fathered a child but no one knew for sure. So for now he practiced. HeeYaaa! Yaaa! Ya! Ya! One time he so stayed so still a rabbit hopped right next to him and he kicked it's head off. When the elders asked how he got blood on his robes, he said he kicked a rabbits head off. They frowned deeply. He wanted to be an assassin for hire. Travel the world killing people with out them ever knowing he existed. Yaaa! Rip a guys a head off. Heee! Ya! Pull a guys heart out. Ya!Ya!Ya! Pop his eyes like grapes. He was currently working on a momento he could leave behind at each of his kills. Maybe a miniature Budha key chain. Or a small bowl of white rice. His name would be The Mad Monk. One day after returning from practice, sweat on his brow, an elder asked him to sit down in the temple with him. This had happened before, an elder would sit him down and lecture him on the importance of pursuing enlightenment through meditation. He always thought, 'I couldn't lighten you a bit by pulling your arm off'. But this time was different. The monk stared at him silently for a long while, then after taking a deep breath said, "Young one, your father will be here next week to see you." A wide smile spread across the boys face. Well this was it; a chance to finally kill the bastard who had so easily abandoned him seven year ago. The father who had decided a #life of whores and easy money was more fulfilling then raising his one and only son. Oh this would be sweet, he thought, so sweet. The monk frowned. "I had not thought you would react this way." He smiled wider, he realized no one had probably ever see him smile before. "Shouldn't I be happy that my father has come to see me?" "Yes," the monk contemplated, "I suppose you should." "Next week?" the boy asked. "When exactly?" He needed to know how much time he had left to train. He could give up cigarettes and whacking it for a night if meant one more night of training.