There are no average people, it's just a statistician's pretense that the bizarre and mundane are equally distributed between everyone. The truth is, there are only those who live boring lives, and those who live unusual ones.

My name is unimportant, most people just call me Sifu, pronounced See-fu or as a friend says, Seafood without the 'd'. I fall into the latter class. And few live stranger lives than mine! But this isn't my story. I'm quite ordinary but the events and people around me are not, I just report what I see. There are others who try to explain, I gave that up long ago.

It happens that I live with an odd assortment of individuals, and the 'people' that visit are often the strangest of the lot. Just how it all came to pass is hard to assess. I didn't try to get myself mixed up in it, yet it seems to be my fate to live in a state of confusion. But then, I'll let you judge for yourself.

I suppose that I've always lived an interesting life, but the turning point from the unusual to the bizarre seems to be my meeting a Taoist magician. Her main interest in me was the fact that I'm one of the few Caucasians to have mastered Drunken Monkey; which she felt Caucasians were incapable of, and thus she thought me to be extraordinary. In fact, few know it, largely because few people can be bothered with the extra effort to learn this variety of Kung-fu. It wasn't long after our meeting that I found myself assisting in some very strange rituals, which Quon insisted were legitimate, time-honored ceremonies. All I know is that they led to my introduction to 'people' I never expected to meet.

One of my favoured places to relax after a long day of teaching at my studio is a quaint cafe called the 'Shady Spot'. You never know who you might see there, and besides, there aren't that many places that let you sit and drink coffee for hours on end. There is nothing shady about the Spot, unless you count the head waitress. It was a 24 hour restaurant that sat on the corner of two main roads. When it was built, it was a truck-stop, but the city sprawled around it long since then. Now there are few truckers that drive that way, yet it continues to maintain the same atmosphere. It even has a jukebox with songs that haven't been changed since the 1970s.

One day, while I was unwinding, this older gent wandered in. He was a thin man who stood just over six foot. You could see that he had been drinking a bit, but he was a perfect gentleman. Perhaps too much so. Something about him drew my attention and so I watched. Watching is my favorite pastime.

He ordered a meal and a beer to go with it, and for a while it seemed I had misjudged. It wasn't until he had finished eating, to say nothing about his eight beers, that anything happened. At that time, the jukebox began to play an early rock tune. I don't recall what it was, except to say that it was loud, and this gent didn't seem too impressed with it. All at once he spoke in a booming voice for all to hear.

"If 'tis music you'll be wanting, we can do better than that! Let it not be said that Brian O'Donald would let ye doon when you need a song!" And without a moment's hesitation, he started singing 'Danny Boy' in the sweetest Irish tenor you could please.

His voice filled the restaurant; drowning out the jukebox I might add; and although he was drunk, there wasn't a flaw in his singing. Of course, the people who had spent money on the jukebox were none too happy, and they complained to the waitress. I knew she would remove this Brian fellow, for she was known to be intolerant in the best of cases. You can imagine my surprise when she reached his table and he smiled at her and said, "You shouldn't be interrupting 'Danny Boy', lassie.", and she turned around and told the other customer to stop griping and enjoy the song.

The other customer was a hairy mountain dressed in Levi's and a jean jacket, and with him sat three buddies who looked as tough as bulldogs and as mean as constipated pit bulls. They started to get up, but to my amazement, Brian smiled at them, and they sat down again. In fact, they all applauded when the song was finished. That was when Brian caught my eye and winked, as if we were old friends.

He sang a couple more songs, and then he left. That might well have been the end of it, except that I saw him again a couple days later. I had just walked in when this voice called out, "Ah, Sifu me lad; that 'tis what they call you isn't it? Come and join an old man."

There was no way to pretend that I hadn't heard, and I was sure that ignoring him wasn't going to work. Besides, I must admit I was curious as to how he knew my name, and why he wanted to talk with me. So I went over and sat across from him.

"How is it you know me?", I inquired. At that he laughed so richly that I was sure everyone was looking at us now.

"Sure and you must be joking. 'Tis because of you that I came to this spot in the first place." Once again he gave me a knowing wink, but it didn't help at all.

"Did you want Kung-fu lessons?", I hazarded. His laughter suggested that I had guessed wrong.

"Have you ever seen 'A Christmas Carol'?", he inquired.

"Yes." I looked at him expectantly.

"I've always favoured the ghost of Christmas Present. He's such a jolly one."

"Does this have a purpose?", I asked. By now I was feeling quite confused.

"Some would say that everything has a purpose, and some would have that nothing does. And they might be right in either case. But as the Bard once said, 'There is more in heaven and on earth than is dreamt of in your philosophy, Horatio.' He had help coming up with that one you know." He smiled at me as though I knew what he was talking about, which of course I didn't.

Nodding sagely I said, "I'm familiar with the debate over whether he wrote all his own stuff, but what does this have to do with me?"

He grinned broadly, "Ah well, as your friend Miss Yen would say it, 'Not all is as it seems; truth is not what we believe, but rather what it is.'"

The light was dawning on me, I thought, so I replied, "Then you know Quon Yen. Is that it?"

"We have known each other a few seasons, and picked the Lotus Blossoms together, yes."

I nodded again, this time with confidence, "I understand." I didn't know how mistaken I was. After a bit more talk we headed to my house. I never was sure if I invited him, or if he invited himself. Following introductions all round [there are three people who share the rent with me if you exclude the cats; who never do pay rent; but Brian wanted to include them as well, so we had six people for him to meet]; he explained everything. This just shifted the things I was confused about to new and more significant things, but here it is.

After kissing the hands of Mary and Diana, shaking hands with Kingsley, and meowing for several moments with each cat, he sat down and pulled a pipe from his pocket. Puffing on it, he said, "Miss Yen warned you that you would be opening doors if you got involved in Taoist magic, didn't she?" I nodded my acknowledgment and he continued, "I'm one of those doors; what you see is only a manifestation. This body is generated, if you like. In truth, I am none other than The Dagda himself!" At this he beamed broadly as though that explained everything. We all stared blankly at him, I for one thinking I had let a madman into my home. The only Dagda I knew was from Celtic mythology; some nature spirit or power, I think.

"So, you'll not be believing me then? Ah, but it is such a grand claim, I can see why you might be doubting it. Let me show you then." And with that, he reached into a wall of my home and withdrew an Irish harp. As I said, I just report what I see, someone else can explain it if they like. The next thing we knew, he was playing a haunting Celtic melody and singing in Gaelic. Now I didn't know how the harp trick was done, but I felt this had gone far enough when the wall started to shimmer and a large archway appeared. There before us was either the most amazing mass hallucination, or a gateway into a different world. I was a little worried about what the landlord would say when he saw this, but it was difficult to dispute its existence.

Over a period of several weeks, The Dagda, and his friends, helped us to realize that we hadn't lost our minds. Or at least if we had, we weren't likely to find them again, and so we might as well accept things as they were. Still, one thing bothered me, why were powerful beings, who I had thought were myths, suddenly interested in us? The answer was sure to come.

It's an odd thing, though often true, that sometimes the best way to find an answer is to ask a direct question. That is how I came to learn the reason for all this strangeness. As it was told to me, these beings; who call themselves Lords; have had an involvement in the affairs of mankind as long as we've been around. However, they do not, or cannot, get involved directly. They simply influence things. But to do this, they must have gateways that allow them access to this world, which they call the Realm of Shadows. For each gateway, there must be a gate keeper. And for reasons that are beyond me, I was chosen to be one of those. Mine is not the only gate, and they say that I could refuse the position. But then, could you, if it was offered? And so began the strangest saga of my life.

The Lords are quite different from anything I would have imagined, and I quickly realized that the myths I had read when I was young were often completely wrong. Perhaps this is because reality doesn't always fit the human viewpoint of things, and so we rewrite it. As the various Lords went and came through my home, they often would stop and visit. I should explain that we didn't have dozens of strange looking beings walking in and out of my place. They felt that would draw too much attention, so they 'generated' two bodies that they could share. Both were ordinary enough, one male and one female, according to the nature of the Lord who was here. Though it did lead to some misunderstandings since you were never sure who was wearing the face.

I still remember one early incident, which isn't surprising since it was commemorated in song. But first I should explain that the Lords all seem to love a good joke, usually at someone's expense. I guess that when you're nearly immortal; the Dagda says they only live about seven universes long, big bang to big bang; most forms of humor become stale. In any case, it seems that practical jokes are a favorite.

Now Lords, like everyone else, have many different personalities. Some are quite prudish, and others are the opposite. It is important to know who is here, so as not to offend them by the wrong sort of behaviour.

On this occasion, Diana was making a batch of baking powder biscuits when the Monkey Lord showed up. Now as it happens, he doesn't worry about being entertained and other such formalities, and he loves to cook. So, since he was just hanging around for a while, Diana asked if he would mind keeping an eye on the buns, so she could have a shower. He agreed to do this, and she left.

Now one must take care to listen to exactly what a Lord might say, because they never lie, but they often don't say what you think they did. No sooner had Diana gone to the shower, but the Monkey Lord called the Dagda to ask a favour.

"Dagda; I must go to deal with certain matters, but Diana asked me to watch something for her. Could you aid me?" The sincerity of the Monkey Lord is most amazing, and the Dagda is a gentleman.

"Sure and I'd be happy to give my aid." And thus the joke was set. You see, the Dagda is a great singer, but he knows nothing about cooking, also, he has strong ideas on the matter of propriety. It wasn't long before Diana started to smell something burning.

The Buddhists speak of 'Sudden Enlightenment', and I suppose that's what this might be called. Leaping from the shower much like Archimedes, she dashed dripping wet into the kitchen. Her words were definitely NOT 'Eureka, eureka'. Not even stopping to think about her condition, which wouldn't have bothered the Monkey Lord anyway, she glared thinking he hadn't kept his word. Saying nothing more, she stormed to the stove and removed the burnt buns. Well, the Dagda was scandalized at her lack of attire. But, being a gentleman to the last, and quite unsure as to what was going on, other than the fact that the lady was upset about something, he leapt to her aid. Seeing that she was wrapping these buns in newspaper, he carefully followed her example. The poor chap was totally baffled at what was going on, and embarrassed at Diana's casual presence. When she snatched up all the packets and tossed them into the garbage, he finally understood. The Monkey Lord had told him to watch the biscuits, but he hadn't realized until that moment that anything was wrong with them.

The Dagda left without a word as quickly as he could. We didn't know about it until the Monkey Lord stumbled into Kingsley's room and collapsed in a fit of laughter at the foot of his bed. Kingsley came and got me, and after a long wait, the Monkey Lord gasped and got himself under control.

"You've got to hear this!", he chuckled. He struggled to his feet and motioned us to follow. Diana, who by this time was dressed, but none the wiser, stalked into the room fuming at the Monkey Lord's laughter and demanded to know what he thought was so funny. With a flourish of his hand, he motioned us to the gateway. There, just on the other side, was a gaily dressed group of minstrels. On the Monkey Lord's signal, they began to sing.

"The Dagda he the buns did burn,
The lady fair, she was distressed.
As well distressed indeed was he,
For she was in her modesty."

By the time all fourteen verses were sung, Diana's face was red. Upon realizing what had happened, she was too embarrassed to say anything. But I knew she would try to get her own back.

We didn't see anyone for the next two days, and then the Monkey Lord popped in. Diana acted as though everything was fine, but I had to wonder. She was baking biscuits again, and was planning to make hash browns and fry some apples. As she worked, she commented that she wished she could apologize to the Dagda.

"The least I could do after pulling such a trick on you would be to aid you in that. Why don't I invite him over for a bite with you? Let's see; apples, potatoes, biscuits; I'll tell him, if you like, he would enjoy all this."

Although there was some hesitation, Diana agreed, and a short while later the Dagda arrived.

"Top of day! The Monkey Lord said you requested my presence for a three-course meal, so here I be, appetite in hand.", he beamed pleasantly at everyone.

Oh well, score another for the Monkey Lord, it's hard to keep up with someone that's been around so long. But the Dagda took it all in stride, and we all sat down to our 'three-course' meal...

It was quite a while before Diana got her chance, and by then we had all learned not to get upset over these things. It was just a game to the Lords, and we discovered that the 'rules' seemed to allow us to play too. But I guess I'm getting ahead of myself.

Since many of the Lords can speak to cats, it seemed reasonable to find out what our cats called themselves. We have two toms and a female. The one which we have had the longest is a white and black pinto tom, and he is treated by the other two with some deference. He calls himself 'The Professor', since he is a philosopher. The female is second in the pecking order, though I'm told that her word carries a lot of weight with The Professor so perhaps they are really equals. She is known as 'Shakey' because she's always happy. The Professor seems to think that the name makes perfect sense. And the last one is a solid black kitten that looks like a miniature panther, whom The Professor named 'Black Ears', because his ears are black. Cats have an odd sense of humor.

I'm told that cats have occupations, and that Shakey is respected because she is a guide, whereas Black Ears was only an apprentice, but might prove himself worthy in time. Danu told me that Black Ears was likely to become a 'one-claw', and that would raise the respect he got quite a bit. Lords are always so helpful in explaining things.

One day the Yak Lord dropped by and suggested a barbecue. Oh yes, you might know him better as Loki, but he doesn't like the bad press he's gotten, so he prefers to be called the Yak Lord. But I digress. Insofar as he is another good cook, and he was supplying everything, we were glad to agree.

He brought over a bunch of chickens that he had been marinating for three days and began slowly roasting them. I must say that the aroma was overpowering, but good. I hadn't ever had 'Rum and Asparagus Chicken with Mushrooms' before, and no one makes a stronger dark rum than the Yak Lord. I was sitting there sipping a 130 proof Zombie as slowly as I could without seeming impolite when Black Ears leapt into the air and did a double backflip knocking the salad bowl flying and landing at the Yak Lord's startled feet. The Yak Lord grabbed the bowl as Black Ears dashed between his legs, under the table, up a tree, and before anyone could react, jumped at the chicken on the barbecue. He then did a flip as he caught one leg, which pulled free, and after landing he took the leg in his mouth and ran. The Yak Lord yelled after him, "You one-claw! ", and shook his fist.

Thus we discovered that a mere mortal can indeed put one over on a Lord. I also discovered what the occupation of a 'one-claw' is. Sometimes you learn more from a Lord when they aren't telling you anything.

Now Diana's victory over the Monkey Lord took a while, but revenge can't be hurried. Here is what happened: as it occurs, the various Lords are all practitioners of one of the 'Twelve Pure Forms' of magic. Now the form of magic practiced has a great deal to do with the nature of the Lord. The Yak Lord for example, is a Smoke magician and like all of his ilk, he is considered to be a trickster. His forte is smoke and fire.

The Dagda, if you hadn't guessed, is a song magician, whereas Danu is a wind and fragrance magician. That means she uses perfumes, and such to work her spells. Getting to the person of interest, the Monkey Lord is another smoke magician.

It occurs that the Monkey Lord is a pipe smoker, and Diana is an occasional cigarette smoker. One day, while Diana was smoking, the Monkey Lord made a snide comment about cigarettes. He claimed that they didn't last long enough to be worthwhile. To demonstrate, he took one and lit it. To our amazement, it took only two powerful drags to finish it off, which I'm sure must be some kind of a record. However, this display led Diana to the most devious plot she had ever devised.

After consulting with Frikka, another smoke magician, Diana went and bought herself a nice pipe. She was now ready for her chance. She had to wait several weeks, but the opportunity came one evening when the Monkey Lord dropped in.

Diana took out her new pipe to proudly show him. She spent almost five minutes trying to pack it, until he almost offered to do it for her. Next she tried in vain to light it, but she couldn't get it to stay lit. The Monkey Lord chuckled at this whole pantomime, and finally started giving instructions to her. When even that failed, he took the pipe and lit it for her. She puffed away at it in a most peculiar manner, making 'fish lips' all the while. The Monkey Lord laughed heartily and told her to practice, and he'd try to teach her again the next day.

The next day came, and he returned to find her loading the pipe. He watched as she fumbled, dropping the pipe several times in the process. He was in tears from laughter but she continued. Then came the lighting. Try as she might, she couldn't get it to light. Finally, she herself in tears and looking the very picture of frustration, the Monkey Lord offered to start it for her. For a moment I thought she would refuse, then she handed him the pipe.

"You see, you've packed it too hard. Only someone like me could get this going." And with that, a spark arced from his thumb and the top of the bowl became a solid coal. He took one quick drag and doubled over gagging. Diana pulled an identical pipe off her lap where it had been hidden, tears still streaming down her face as the look of frustration became one of contained laughter, and then the laughter was released. When she had enough control, she lit the pipe and looked at the gasping Monkey Lord. The room was full of the awful stench that rose from the pipe which he held.

Somehow managing an innocent face for a moment, she inquired, "Isn't my mixture to your taste?" A contorted face looked up to her as he croaked out, "What?", and motioned at the pipe.

"Oh that, it has a layer of Burly Tobacco on the bottom. But the main layer is fine shredded cigarette filters blended with cheap sandalwood and cherry incense. There is a thin layer of charcoal and beeswax on top of that to seal it good, and enough pipe tobacco on top to disguise it. I hope you appreciate how much work went into it."

With a mighty effort he composed his face, smiled, and clapped his hands. Then he managed to speak, "Tea! ... I want tea!"

After he had recovered, he laughed with great gusto. A joke was a joke, it didn't matter to him who took the fall. Diana had every reason to feel smug, and to watch over her shoulder. But now she was a player, and not just a victim.

The Monkey Lord was definitely impressed, and not the least bit annoyed with Diana's trick. Indeed, he invited her to his place for tea. And thus it was that Diana was the first of us to be allowed through the gateway, but that is another tale to be told at another time.

Not everything around me is supernormal though, some things are merely abnormal, and thus may be considered typical. While I was getting ready to teach a Kung-fu class, a couple fellows walked in. Now, I'm always willing to speak with potential students, and sometimes this leads to difficulties. On this occasion, the one guy insisted that he had always been told that they soft-styles had no power, and he wanted to see if it was true. To this end, he and his buddy had come with a number of bricks that he wanted me to break. I have always maintained that no brick has ever attacked me, therefore I see no value in attacking bricks. That logic didn't seem to impress them. Just then, one of my senior students stepped forward and said, "Sifu, may I try the bricks to show them what they want? Then they can go away satisfied."

Now as it happens, we never break things in class, but I had no fear that he might fail. Also, it seemed to be a simple solution to the problem at hand, whereas my breaking the bricks, which I had considered, would have had less of an effect being the instructor. Therefore I nodded my okay and said, "Just remember to use your meditation to develop the power and protect your hand.".

With that, a stack of ten bricks was set up. I considered suggesting he try to focus the blow to break only the middle two, but decided that might be pushing it.

Now this student is a Buddhist, and he has an excellent understanding of meditation. He began doing 'Internal Breath' exercises to center his force, then knelt beside the target. As I watched, I could feel him draw together to the center-point and focus his mind on the task. His face almost glowed as he summoned the 'Wrathful Aspect of Power' and channeled it through his arm.

...Time froze in a single moment.
...His hand was in motion.
...The universe exploded.
...Everything stopped.

Looking down at the sight I realized that something had gone wrong. A moment later it struck me! In fact, pieces of brick struck everything, and there in the middle was my student. The bricks were gone, the mat below them pulverized and his hand was buried part way into the floor. Clearing my throat, and looking at this from all sides as he removed his uninjured hand from the floor, I assessed the situation and then solemnly said, "Next time, don't spend as long on the meditation." The two strangers left silently. While they reassessed their opinion of soft-styles; I pondered how much it would cost to repair that sort of damage. So much for normalcy.

It's been the better part of a month since then, and everything has been pretty quiet, unless you count a few rowdy movies. There was a short panic when a friend dropped by, but I discovered that only we seem to notice the gateway. Wain and I are standing around right now, and nothing is out of the ordinary. 'Hm?' How about that? Wain just saw the Professor fly by the door at chest level! Upside down! Tail first! In a straight line! I guess everything is normal here.