Week 9: Trash Pandas Vs. Heterosexuals

 

The Trash Pandas are: Gandalf the White

The Heterosexuals are: Avatar Aang and Kangaroos #1-5

 

Gandalf the White sat patiently in Josh’s digs, smoking on his “Hobbit” “Pipe” weed, laughing gaily at the little beetle he had transmogrified from the tenant. “Scuttle on, little friend, scuttle on! There is much to be done here, and only food enough for one grown man’s munchies in your fridge.” He began to fashion a bologna and ketchup taco when he felt a sudden chill. He turned back to the kitchen – the fridge door was closed. The chill he felt was merely his Gandalf Sense tingling. He pursed his lips and shrugged. “Suppose there was no avoiding it, was there?” He turned to the beetle, assuring: “I’ll do what I can to preserve your home.” He searched his surroundings – visually, mentally, reaching out for any sign of presence, threatening or otherwise. His wizard’s intuition proved needless, as he was jarred from his pondering by a small pebble hitting the window. He waited and observed as another hit, larger maybe, thrown a bit harder. He steeled himself and strode toward the window just as the third rock hit, this one significantly larger and more kangaroo shaped. The marsupial sent him toppling backward before scurrying off to another room. Gandalf scrambled onto all fours, retrieving his staff and hoisting himself up. As he did, another kangaroo came flying through the window, cut to ribbons by the jagged glass. With pity, the white wizard knelt and laid a hand on the creature. The bleeding ceased and it, too, ran from the room. Gandalf looked to the open porthole and raised his staff, and an explosive bolt of lightning came crashing down outside… only to go shooting back up into the sky. He rushed to the window and stuck his head out in disbelief.

On the ground, Aang stood beside a small wooden cart with three more kangaroos. “Hey, no fair old man! We aren’t even in the arena yet, the fight isn’t set in Josh’s parking lot.” Gandalf peered out at his foe. Of course - the young Avatar with skill enough to deflect lightning, but not enough wisdom to know kangaroos don’t like being chucked through glass. “And why, pray tell, are you not yet in the arena? I managed to unlock the door just fine.” Aang stamped his foot indignantly. “Look, what I do isn’t actually magic, okay?! I can’t just go around casting ‘open sesame’ on every locked door!”

“But surely you can pick a lock, can’t you? With all your control over air and water?”

“Uh, where would I have learned to pick locks? I’m ten years old, I spent forever stuck in a glacier, and then I went all over the place to learn everything about exactly three different things. I didn’t exactly have time to pick up lockpicking.” Gandalf smirked. “Oh, there’s very much you can learn on a nice walk. Why don’t you come in and we can handle this properly?” The front door unlatched and opened itself. Aang saw this, shot a dirty look at Gandalf, but proceeded inside anyway.

Now properly inside the appointed battleground, Gandalf greeted Aang and his kangaroos. “Welcome, welcome. Would you care for some of this fine Hobbit herb?” Aang sniffed the pipe and winced at the stench. “I’ll… pass, thanks. Listen, are you ready to fight or not?” Before answering, Gandalf ambled to the couch and sat. He motioned for Aang, who remained standing. “Have you ever considered how many ways a story can end, Avatar?” Aang didn’t reply, so Gandalf continued. “I have heard countless tales in my time, from countless civilizations. Tales of victory, of loss – of love and hatred and everything between. Countless fascinating possibilities, and new ones to discover still with each passing year.” Aang’s expression had dropped by now. “Are you serious? How high ARE you?” Gandalf gave Aang a sternly parental glance before resuming, “What I do not relish are the stories of hatred and death. They are far too many, and far too sad. Do you think, Avatar, that we should be dreaming up another?” Aang impatiently hurled a fireball at Gandalf, and it blew to either side of his beard like it was mere smoke. Aang’s eyes widened, and he stopped to listen. “I am no stranger to the elements you claim to master. You see, we actually have quite a bit in common. Your power comes from the spirit within you – an eternal cycle of rebirth and power and terrible purpose. I, myself, am… something of a vessel. I truly do not wish you harm. And that’s not mentioning you’re just a boy.” Aang considered this for just a moment, but shook his head. “No, no one of us has to win. I won’t let you distract me from my purpose.”

With this, he launched into a furious series of blows. Flaming kicks and bursts of air were thrown at Gandalf. Some he deflected with his staff, some connected, but never did he show signs of pain or attempt to retaliate. Aang roared in frustration and tore pipes from the walls as he drew the water from every source nearby. He saturated Gandalf and froze the ice, locking the wizard in place with an expression of surprise. But his staff began to glow faintly from within the ice, and in moments it shattered from his body before sublimating into a thick mist which obscured all visibility. Gandalf eyed the haze vigilantly, when a small hand shot out and clasped his throat. Aang had entered the Avatar state, floating before Gandalf, his eyes glowing with fury. “So you can bend all the elements too? Let’s see you do it without your power.” His hands moved to Gandalf’s chest and forehead, and he began to bend the energy of Gandalf’s spirit. Gandalf could feel this connection with Aang, the convergence of their spirits, and he did not resist. Aang reached in to take Gandalf’s power from him, down to his core… and came to a halt. Visions of light and grace filled his mind. The nature of the very universe was laid before him, emotion flooded his heart, and in that moment – for just one moment – he heard the Music of the Ainur. He fell to his knees. Tears of indescribable beauty welled in his eyes, and he whispered “I… understand now.”