So that's why nobody had taken over the world yet, thought the vicious badger as he sat on the ground, moaning. If you're wondering how he was moaning, just remember that he was a vicious, talking badger. Dink-Dinks give you indigestion.

The vicious badger stumbled into a bar.

"Hey, we don't serve drunks here," said the bartender.

"That's okay," answered the badger. "I don't want a drunk, I want a drink."

All of the people at the bar hooted with laughter. The bartender turned red.

"I mean, we don't get people who are already drunk even drunker."

"That's okay too," repeated the badger. "I'm not drunk, I just have indigestion."

"What could you eat that makes you unable to walk straight?" scoffed the bartender.

"Dink-Dinks," explained the badger. "Their cloaks taste worse than Dead Guy robes."

Everyone swallowed hard, except a swallow, who scowled at the pun and left the bar in disgust. One thought ran through the minds of the remaining drunks: if he ate a Dead Guy, he could eat us next.

Apparently, the bartender was thinking that too, because he didn't give the badger any more trouble. One drunk slide up to the badger and held out some sticks.

"Hey, you wanna buy some cinnamon sticks?" he asked slyly. The man next to the badger waved his foot.

"You will give me all your cinnamon sticks," said the man

"I will give you all my cinnamon sticks," repeated the drunk.

"Thank you," said the man, waving his foot again, as if by habit.

"Thank me," answered the drunk obediently.

"Hello," said the badger, interested in his mind-control techniques. If he had those, he wouldn't need to eat any more Dink-Dinks. He could have an army!

"Hello to you too," answered the man.

"I'm a vicious talking badger," said the vicious talking badger.

"I can see that," said the man.

The badger paused for a moment, waiting for a response. The man went back to his cinnamon sticks.

"And who are you?" asked the badger pointedly.

"I am Dead Guy Master Window," said the man.

"Cool," said the badger. "I ate a Dead Guy, you know."

"Yes, I heard," said Window. "Did you know which one?"

"He was called Bob (Cheese-Crackers) Hamcheese."

"Cool," said Window.

"Did you know him?" asked the badger.

"Yeah," said Window. "He had it coming for a looooooooooooong time."

"Will you teach me how to do that?" asked the badger.

"Okay, first say 'long'."

"Long," said the badger, unsure how this would help him control minds.

"Now say 'oooooooooooo'."


"Now say the first to letters in 'long', followed by 'oooooooooooo', then finish 'long'."


"And now you did it."

"Did what?" asked the badger, completely confused.

"Said Looooooooooooong the way I did."

"How will that help me control minds?" asked the badger.

"What does mind control have to do with anything?"

"I asked you to teach me how to do it!"


"Just now, I said 'will you teach me how to do it,' and you said 'okay'"

"That wasn't when you asked me to teach you mind control, that was when you asked me to teach you to say 'looooooooooooong'."

"So you admit that I asked you to teach me mind control!"

"When did I do that?"

"Just now! You said 'that wasn't when you asked me to teach you mind control,' which directly implies that I actually asked you teach me mind control!"

"It does not!"

"Does too!"

"Does not!"

"Does too!"

"Does not!"

"Look, will you teach me mind control or not?"

"Only if you'll admit that I didn't imply that you asked me anything!"

"You will teach me mind control."

"Hey, I'm the one who can control minds, not you!"

"You will teach me mind control, or I'll wash down Cheese-Crackers Hamcheese…"

"Bob!" shouted Cheese-Crackers' ghost, appearing out of nowhere.

"Or I'll wash down Hamcheese with wash down Hamcheese with you," growled the badger, completely ignoring the reincarnated Dead Guy.

"Okay then, lets go," said Window.

"Go where?" asked the badger suspiciously.

"Go to the Dead Guy's place on Croissant."

"Hey, you can't take him there!" exclaimed Cheese-Crackers.

"Why not?" demanded Window.

"That's for Dead Guys only," insisted the ghost.

"Fine. Now he's my apprentice."

"Fine. But that won't work."

"Why not?"

"He's too old."

"Watch who you're calling old, Grandpa," snarled the badger.

"No, too old to begin training," explained the ghost. "It just means you're over four."

"But I'm not," said the badger. Everyone stared. "What? We robot badgers mature quickly."

"You're a robot!" exclaimed Window.

"No I'm not," lied the badger quickly.

"Yes you are," said Hamcheese. "See, Window? It really won't work out between the two of you."

"Shut up, Cheese-Crackers," retorted Window.

"It's Bob!" the dead Dead Guy exclaimed, disappearing.

"That was weird," commented the badger. "So, will you teach me to use mind control now?" he asked eagerly, getting back to more important matters.

Window sighed. "One thing at a time, Peanut Butter."

"Peanut Butter?"

"It's what Dead Guys call their apprentices."

"Oh. Okay."




"Why do Dead Guys call their apprentices Peanut Butters?"

"No idea. It's an age old tradition."

"It's random."

"Are you finished?"

"With what?"

"Interrupting me. We can't begin your training until I finish my sentence."

"Fine. Be that way."

"Thank you. I think I will," said Window, and he continued. "One thing at a time, Peanut Butter. First we must go," he gestured dramatically at a wall "to the Dead Guy Treehouse!"

"In a wall?" asked the badger skeptically.

"Who's AWOL?" demanded the drunk who sold cinnamon sticks, reappearing at Window's elbow.

"Cheese-Crackers Hamcheese," said Window, smiling mischievously.

"It's BOB!" shouted Hamcheese, appearing again.

"Whoa, Holy #$!" exclaimed the drunk, looking shocked.

"Excuse me, but #$ is not holy," said an educated looking gentleman.

"But that man just appeared out of nowhere!" said the drunk.

"That still doesn't make #$ holy," retorted the gentleman, sipping his drink.

"Hey, wanna buy some cinnamon sticks?" asked the drunk slyly.

"No, you sold them all to this Dead Guy here," said the gentleman. "And I wouldn't anyway: cinnamon sticks are unhealthy for your health."

"Goodbye," said Hamcheese, looking offended.

"What's that chap on about?" asked the gentleman, raising his eyebrows so hard his monocle fell off.

"He's dead," explained Window.

"Well I know that, dear lad, he is a Dead Guy after all."

"He's deader than most Dead Guys, alright?" demanded the Dead Guy.

"Quite so, quite so. Would you mind informing this man that if he does not cease and desist to attempt to sell me cinnamon sticks, I shall have to inform the authorities that he is illegally selling drugs?"

"You wouldn't do that!" exclaimed another man. "I didn't get enough cinnamon sticks before that fellow took them all."

"Be quite, Anna," snapped Window, glaring at the man.

"Oh, you hush," said Anna, "I'm not a Peanut Butter anymore, Window, I can do whatever I want."

"Indeed," said the gentleman, looking at Anna over his newly replaced monocle.

"Are we going or not?" the badger asked Window out of the side of his mouth.

"Good idea," said Window, as Anna opened his mouth for another retort.

"Who was that man?" asked the badger as they went outside.

"Oh, he was a Dead Guy. Hamcheese's…"


"Go away. Friend Jukebox's father, Anna Skytripper."

"Oh. Will you teach me mind control now?"

"All in good time, my young Peanut Butter. All in good time," said Window, smiling.

Hope you liked that. I just added another because someone asked me to, and I don't take much convincing. Thanks to my friend Sally for the '#$ is not holy' joke, that's all hers. Sorry if I'm going a little too close to the real Star Wars, I'll try to back off a little in the next chapter or two.