The He-Man Tournament

This, my friends, is the classic that, nearly a decade later, came to be known as the defining work of my childhood literary career.

After penning this epic novel -- noted for its gripping suspense, intricate plot development, and unforgettable heroism -- sometime in the 3rd grade, I filed it away in my closet for a while. Several years later, circa high school graduation = summer 1998, my friends and I stumbled (in the sense of Elgazor the Great Flying Elf) across the damn thing sometime around 3:23am.

Thus finding ourselves immersed in Random Humor Hour -- a biologically-determined period between 3 and 4 in the morning, during which the notion that people have muscles and other mundane minutia become insanely funny -- we opened the book and began to read aloud. What transpired during the next 30 minutes was so threatening to the notion of an orderly, logical, objective reality that it has been classified by the U.S. Government (apparently the NSA had bugged my remote-controlled fireplace). I also believe that this incident has led the DEA to consider my book a controlled psychotropic substance.

Anyway, to see what all the fuss is about, put on your Pretentious Literary Critic Hat[tm], recall the definition of the word floccinaucinihilipilification, and open the book.

When you are done, you can review your comprehension (or, more likely, lack thereof) of the novel by taking this quiz.