Chapitré Préliminaire

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Twenty Years Ago

There is a village called Nibelheim mear Mt. Nibel on the Western Continent. I know you don't really care, but it's there. And it was there that something really boring is about to happen, but I'm going to make you read about it anyway.

In a house on the northern end of the village, a woman lay on her bed. Maybe she normally would have been quite pretty, but she certainly wasn't when she was screaming the kind of obscenities that literally caused the plants to burst into flames. The target of her wrath was a pitiful little fellow in a white coat.

"You insufferable little prick!" she screamed, "When this is over, I'm going to sue your peachy little ass for malpractice, you know that? GIVE ME SOME GODDAMN DRUGS!!!!!"

The doctor calmly replied, "Calm down, ma'am, we're almost through."

"WE?!?!?" screamed the woman "I'm doing all the fucking work here you miserable pantywaist! Just wait! I'm gonna tear your goddamn balls off and feed them to you!"

Still unruffled, the doctor let this wash over him, and said, "That's it, you're doing good, now the important thing is to breathe."

Still at a level of volume ordinarily associated with atomic weapons, the woman said, "Oh, really, lameass? Is that what I've been forgetting? Well, gee! I guess I'm too goddamn stupid to remember to breathe! Is that what you think, you smug sonofabitch? IS THAT WHAT YOU FUCKING THINK????"

"There!" exhulted the doctor, lifting a small body by the foot, "It's a boy!"

"Ooh," cooed the now not-so-angry woman, "Isn't he the cutest?"

"Um, no," replied the doctor, "Actually, he's covered in afterbirth and screaming like a banshee, and the only time I've ever seen anything as ugly is all the other babies I've delivered. Just as soon as I cut this goddamn umbilical cord, I'm gonna go outside for a puke and a smoke. That will be 16,000 Gil, please."

After the doctor left, the father of the boy entered the house to find his wife still coo-ing over the small form.

"Oh, look, isn't he cute?" she queried, "I think I'll name him Cloud."

"What?" raged the father, "Dammit, woman, what the hell kind of stupid weiner name is 'Cloud'? Do you want the boy to grow up to be a chunk of goddamn fluff? His name is 'Trent', after my father."

"Your father," said the woman indignantly, "was a drunk and a wastrel and the world is better off without him!"

The father replied, "Yeah, well, at least he wasn't gay. Someone named 'Cloud' would be bound to grow up gay."

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The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, called the Third Age by some, an Age yet to come, an Age long past, a wind rose over an unidentified mountain range on the Western Continent. The wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But it was a beginning.

North and west the wind blew, disturbing pigeons and ripping old peoples' toupees off, until it had circled the earth 8.02 times, whereupon it ripped someone's laundry off of a clothesline and deposited it in a pile of horse manure. The wind then did the fish slapping dance and rushed off in the direction of Midgar, where a street performer, clad only in a towel was doing an erotic performance. The wind ripped the towel away and wrapped it around a bystander's head, then charged off to the south.

Here the wind met misfortune, because this is not the world of the Wheel of Time, where a wind can do just anything. The Wind was interfering in another wind's territory, and she was PMS'ing pretty bad at the time. Our Wind was sucked up by an out-of-season tornado and hurled outside the atmosphere, where it was eventually attracted by the Sun's gravitational pull and was converted into pure energy in a fusion reaction in the heart of the G2-class star.

That'll teach him.

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You'd think that 20 years ago was a pretty boring time, but there was still a third event occurring, in a place I may not yet disclose.

In a closed cave, approximately 18,000 moogles had gathered. No, it was not mating season, which is another time when 18,000 moogles would gather in one place, but this was the beginning of the Great Moogle Rebellion of Corel.

Oops, I wasn't supposed to tell you where that was. Damn! Damn! Damn!

Well, anyway, now that you're in on the revolution, I guess you may as well know what was said at the secret meeting:

"Kuso!"

"Kuso!"

"Kuso--so!"

"Kusosso"

"Kuso Ku Kuso So!"

"Kuso Kurukso Kurano!"

"Kuso, Kuso!"

"Hey, mates, would anybody care for a cup o' coffee?"

"Kuso!"

"Sorry. Just asking."

Preview of Chapter 1:

"Hey, has anybody seen Mr. T run by in the nude?"

"Yummy, yummy, yummy, I got bugs in my tummy...hee hee hee!"

"I'm more than OK! I'm Batma...Wait, that's wrong.."