Poo was meditating on top of a high cliff in Dalaam. Actually, he had been unable to meditate because he had a premonition of bad things to come. Instead, he had been sitting on the cliff pondering what it could be that was bothering him. Giygas was gone, and, besides, it didn't feel like Giygas. It wasn't Pokey. Poo could feel that sweaty, fat, piggish aura from miles away. It was something different. Then Poo heard a scream. He immediately jumped down from the pillar of rock and floated down to the ground. Poo did not take it lightly when one of his people was in trouble. As with everything in life, he was serious to a fault. He half-ran/half-flew towards the source of the noise. The scene he came upon was gruesome. A tall, fiery looking man stood over the flute player who always sat near the castle and seemed to subsist on air, for no one had ever seen him work a day in his life.

Alas, Poo was to late. As he approached, the flute player fell over with a feeble "preet proo--". Then the tall man with the fire-like essence turned around. "And who are you?"

"I am Prince Poo. Why are you attacking unarmed people in my kingdom?"

"You are Prince Poo?" The man's face lit up in a rather disturbing way. His features were not made for looking happy. Then he started to dance. "I found him! I found him! Oh, happy days! Prince Poo, I have been looking all over for you. You see," he folded his arms in a very careful, almost feminine, manner "I am going to defeat you and restore honor to my ancestors! Tee hee hee!" The combination of this rather ugly man's dancing and squealing-with-delight was to much for Poo. He hurled. It would have been bad, except he had been fasting and there was nothing in his stomach and he really only choked a lot.

Once he had regained his princely composure, Poo spoke. "I don't know who you are, or what your complaint is, but I will not have you taking it out on the citizens of Dalaam!" Poo struck his princely pose, which he saved for decisive situations like these.

The fiery man bowed. He seemed to have regained his somber tone. "Fine. You are the one I care about. I can abuse these pathetic people when you are gone. Let's go somewhere else. Do you agree to this?"

"Yes" said Poo. Suddenly, they were standing on a platform surrounded by flames. Poo could see nothing else around them.

"Ha ha ha ha haaaa! You should never agree to a match on a demon's home turf. You shall suffer dearly! For I am the PUBLIC SPEAKING DEMON!" Poo felt he should say something, but found that he could think of nothing to say. "You feel my power already. You cannot speak, for I have taken away your power of speech."

Poo grimaced. "Well", he thought, "I don't need to speak to fight him. haven't been training all of these years for nothing. The power of Starstorm alpha should be enough to finish him!"

Poo tried to do starstorm alpha. But he couldn't!

"You silly, silly boy. You are in my house and you will play by my rules. This will be a contest of PUBLIC SPEAKING!"

"But I can't speak!" Poo thought. "What will I do?"

The demon started a long speech on the advantages of a free market society over a communist society. The speech was eloquent and well delivered. It was really the best speech Poo had ever heard. As the demon came to his conclusion, Poo realized he was going to have to come up with a rebuttal. Three things raced through Poo's mind. "What the heck is a 'free market eco-whatever'?" "What the heck is 'commode-ism'?" And, "I hate public speaking!"

Poor Poo was ill-suited for this debate. The only system he knew of was the fatherly, kingship of Dalaam. And, being something of a loner, Poo had never worked on his public speaking skills as much as a young prince really should.

The demon finished and glanced at Poo. "You may speak, now." Poo decided that, as much as it pained him not to do something right, he was going to have to fake his way through this speech. "Ahem! Well, commode-ism is better than a free market economonomy because it has toilet s." The demon's smirk made Poo nervous. "The root of the word commode-ism is commode, which is another word for the toilet. People in a free market thingy probably don't have toilets, I think. In conclusion, commode-ism is better."

Five demon judges appeared. The Public Speaking Demon was given straight 10s. Now they consulted for Poo's judgment. The first judge lifted up a zero. Poo felt a horrible pain in his legs and sank to the ground. The next judge lifted another zero. Poo felt like he had been kicked hard in the groin. The next judge lifted another zero. Poo was almost blacked out from the pain all over his body. As he left consciousness, he heard the laughter of the demon. "I've never seen anybody give such a poor speech, boy. You are in for a world of pain!"

When Poo came to, he was in a familiar hut. He tried to sit up, but found he could not. The mu master appeared over Poo. "You are lucky I found you. If you had received the blows from those last two judges, you would have passed on to another level of consciousness, which, although not bad in itself, would have caused terrible grief to the poor girls of your country.

"Master, has the demon caused trouble in Dalaam?"

The mu master looked troubled. "Yes. He has been using the power of his speech to rile people up and turn them against each other. He has even talked some people almost to death!"

"I must go back and save my people!" Poo jumped out of bed and promptly collapsed on the floor.

"Young people are always in such a hurry."

It was many weeks later when Poo had recovered enough to be on his way back to Dalaam. He left the mu master's hut and teleported back to Dalaam. When he arrived, he could only wish he had recovered sooner. The hatred and animosity were thick in the air. Brother fought brother, son fought father, fluffy pink bunny fought sparkly blue fairy. Poo marched up to the castle and strode through the main entrance. The demon was sitting on the throne and being amused by the bickering of Poo's father and the telephone head.

"You, you stupid telephone head! Why must you always let the telemarketers through! If I have told you once, I have told you ten times, I don't want to talk to them!"

"And if I have told you once, I have told you ten times, they are trying to save you money! Oh, but I forgot! Mister I-am-king doesn't need to save money! He gets free telephone service by taking advantage of one of his loyal servants who just happens to have a phone growing out of his head!"

"If you don't like your job, then leave! See if I stop you! Maybe I'll be able to have a peaceful me l for once!"

The demon was laughing at this exchange of ideas when Poo yelled! "Demon! You will not trick me this time! We shall fight on my home turf this time. And we shall use our bodies, not our wits."

The demon's eyes opened wide. He looked very scared by the prospect. So he used the one trick he knew. "Look over there!" he pointed at the wall behind Poo.

Poo turned around. "What is it? Oh my, the royal wall seems to have a crack in it. I should make sure to ask the royal groundskeeper to see to that." It was about then that Poo noticed that the demon had run up to him and was girly-slapping him with all his might. Unfortunately for the demon, "all his might" added up to little baby slaps. Poo pushed the demon back, who, at this point, had started to cry. Poo drew his sword and was about to smite the demon, when his royal conscience bothered him. Poo put his sword back. There was no honor in felling a foe this weak.

"Demon, you have one week to prepare. I challenge you to a PUBLIC SPEAKING contest here in Dalaam. We shall debate the proposed tax cuts for flute playing Dalaamites."

The demon got an absolutely disgusting grin on his face. "You will regret this! No one wins against the Public Speaking Demon! Even in another's house, my speaking skills reign supreme!" The demon disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

Poo closed his eyes. It was the honorable thing to do, true, but it was also the stupid thing to do. How was he going to defeat the demon?

The next day, Poo stood out in front of his castle and decided to start practicing for the duel by announcing the state of things. He stood on top of the royal soap box and spoke. "People of Dalaam! I am having a public speaking duel--no wait, that's no good. Citizens of Dalaam! I--maybe the first way was better..." After many false starts, Poo stepped off the royal soap box and cried some royal tears. The royal speech maker finished off the speech for Poo and encouraged the citizens to help their prince win this battle. For the rest of that week, Poo debated with young and old, male and female, flute player and non-flute player. He lost every debate. In fact, half the time, he didn't finish the debate because he couldn't think of what to say. The people of Dalaam were worried. Their prince was a royal screw-up. He had no debating skills.

It was Riceday night, (Dalaam's Friday) the night before the duel. Poo was in utter despair. He simply was no speaker. He had been training with the royal speech-maker day and night and practicing with the Dalaamites every chance he got, but he had gotten no better. A shadow fell across Poo's royal back. He turned around and saw the mu master before him. "Poo, I have heard of your troubles. The problem you face is caused by your methods."

"My methods?"

"Yes. Do you actually think you can defeat the Public Speaking Demon in a straight debate? He is the Public Speaking Demon. He has a golden tongue and is flawless in all forms of public speech."

"But I must win!" The mu master's words were what Poo had suspected all along. His training was a joke. Even if he became the next Roosevelt, he could not win.

"Poo, I think you are going to have to bend the rules."

The phrase "bend the rules" sent Poo into convulsions. He felt sick to his royal stomach. "I can't do that! That is not honorable."

"It is also not honorable to sacrifice your kingdom and people. You chose not to kill the demon and now his life is your responsibility. You must do anything in your power to win."

Poo was still gasping for air. The mu master was right, though. This demon was his responsibility and it wasn't fair for his people to suffer because of him. "What can I do?"

"Um training".

"What is 'um training'?"

"Poo, this demon is not just a master of public speaking, he is the evil embodiment of it. He lives by beautiful, well-done speeches. This means he has a terrible weakn ss for the deadly sins of speaking. These sins are 'well', 'like', 'stuff', 'you know', 'uh', 'things' and, most importantly, 'um'. If you train to use these words, you can defeat this demon."

"Please, show me the way. I will do my best!"

It was difficult training. Poo, despite his horrible speaking skills, was dignified and did not use words like "um" or "like". The mu master had worked with the royal speech writer to give Poo a speech riddled with unnecessaries. It was up to Poo to quell his distinguished, refined tastes and stoop down to the lowest of the low.

"Say it!" screamed the mu master.

"I was *shudder* 'like' going to do *gulp* 'stuff' and--" Poo fainted. A splash of water re-awoke him.

"You must try again, prince Poo. Until you can make it through the speech, you must try again." So Poo tried to make his way through the horrid speech, over and over again. The entire castle was dark except for the one room where Poo and the mu master worked throughout the night.

The next morning, Poo woke up and discovered he had slept standing. He woke up the mu master who was snoring gently next to ten or twelve buckets of water.

"Master! Did I finish the speech? Did I make it through the entire thing? Last night is all a blur."

The mu master shook his head. "I do not know. I heard that speech so many times, I think my brain killed off the part that had last night's memories."

There was a flash outside the castle and Poo ran to the window. The Public Speaking Dem on was standing outside with an entourage of lesser demons. He called out in a disgustingly girly tone of voice, "Prince Poo! I'm here to destroy you now!"

"There is no time to think or plan now Poo. You must act and put all of your effort into this speech. It will either work or it won't."

Poo arrived to the stage the demons had set up outside. The demon cheerleaders were getting the demon crowd worked up. They chanted "Go Pubspea! Go Pubspea! Rah rah rah!"

Poo stepped onto the stage and took his place behind the podium which read "worthless human". The demon threw off his magnificent purple cloak to the demon crowd and giggled like an exceptionally ugly, six-foot-five schoolgirl as the demons gouged out each other's eyes to get at his cloak.

Poo was heartened by the fact that, despite the menacing demons in the crowd, all of his people had turned out. Albeit, they were sitting about half a mile away from the stage, but he couldn't blame them, demons were nasty business.

After the royal, ceremonial gong that was used for any royal duels had been brought out, the royal duel-starter hit it and the Public Speaking Demon, who, as the visitor, went first. He pulled out a long manuscript and ripped it up and tossed it away. The demons went wild over this. He then gave a heavenly (if that is possible for a demon) speech in favor of keeping the taxes the way they were. The flute player, who hated the demon for what he had done as well as for taking the pro-taxes side, tried to drown out the demon with his flute playing. He only succeeded in attracting the attention of some particularly large demons and getting himself beat up. After the demon's speech, the crowd burst into cheers. The demon crowd cheered loudest, but the Dalaamites cheered too. Even Poo was ecstatic, though he hardly knew why. In fact, Poo was ready to give up. He thought the demon was a swell guy!

It was then the mu master called out to Poo, "Poo! Beware! He laced his speech with phrases of praise about himself. Do not do anything rash!" Poo wasn't sure what the mu master meant. The demon was a great guy. Poo was going to buy him a drink! In fact, Poo was walking over to congratulate him and give up.

It was then Poo saw the battered flute player on the ground. The demons had really hit him hard. In fact, his flute was broken! Poo was filled with rage! They had broken the flute player's flute! How dare they! And P o remembered all of the training he had suffered through, the humiliation of reading those words, the humiliation of losing debates to five year olds. Poo jumped back to his side of the stage and pulled out his speech. So the demon had tried something underhanded, eh? Well he was going to top it!

Poo put the speech in front of him and cleared his throat. He closed his eyes and tried to achieve the um state of consciousness. He then opened his eyes and spoke.

"Um, like, wow! You know, we should, like, you know, uh, lower taxes, 'cause, you know, it's good an' stuff!" The demon, who had so recently been basking in the admiration of his demon fans, turned around and stared at Poo.

"And, uh, you know, it's like, well, it's like all, you know, things an' stuff."

The demon had clasped his hands over his ears, but the polluting words were seeping in anyway. He was down on his knees, in utter agony.

"And so, you know, like stuff, and, uh, like, um, you know!"

The demon was screaming in pain. He couldn't last much longer. On the other hand, could Poo last much longer? The strain of all of the undignified words on Poo's refined tongue was getting to him. He was breathing hard and sweating like a pig. He tried to fight off the nausea and to utter just a few more words. "Like, ummm".

The extra long "um" hit both Poo and the demon hard. Poo doubled over and the demon howled in agony. Poo summoned all of his strength for one last syllable. "UM!" As Poo collapsed he listened for the voice of the demon. As his head hit the stage, he heard a feeble "I surrender".

A couple weeks l ater, Poo had recovered and was in the castle library. He had wanted to find out who exactly the demon was. It turned out, according to an old scroll, that the demon's father had been sealed away in a magical jar for being verbally abusive. Somehow, he had managed to have a child. That was the demon who had shown up to Dalaam. Was it only three weeks ago? Poo felt like he had been unconscious for ages.

Years later, Poo's first act as King of Dalaam was require all young princes to master the way of "um". He did this to protect future generations of Dalaam in the knowledge that demons have long lives and bear grudges.

Scene: Jackie's Cafe

Tall, Fiery, red haired man: You know, I was big onshe *hic*. I could give a shpeech like you wouldn't believe! I wash the mashter of speaking!

Jackie: Sure you were.

The End