Disclaimer: You know the drill, folks. All these characters do not belong to me. They are the property of Sotsu Agency Sunrise or whatever company it was that made them...

1001 Arabian Nights ---
Ali Raberba and His Forty Henchmen
by Cresent Star

We begin our tale in a lavish room, resplendent in pastel silk draperies and velvet cushions. In the middle of this finery, we find two young boys sitting together, cuddling. The one with blonde hair spoke:

"What story do you wish to hear tonight, my Shah Trowa?"

"I want to hear about... adventure. And treasure."

"Hmm... it seems I have the perfect story up my..." the blonde paused suggestively, "... sleeve. Put your head in my lap my Shah, and relax. Are you comfortable?"

"Oh yes... very."

"Excellent. I shall begin my tale...."

Once upon a time, but not so long ago, there was a poor boy named Ali Raberba. He was blonde, blue eyed, and absolutely adorable--

* * *

"Like yourself?"

"Mmm... very much like myself."

* * *

Where was I? Oh yes. He was very poor because he came from a large family where there were thirty children in all. The unfortunate thing about it all was that all the other twenty-nine children were girls, and they could not, therefore, carry on the family line or inherit the family fortune... even though there wasn't much of a family fortune to begin with. In other words, Ali Raberba was an important member in the family and did not have to do any work at all.

Ali Raberba spent his days dreaming endlessly of adventure, treasure and love, occasionally playing his violin to break the monotony of his thoughts. However, even this began to wear on him, so much so that he thought he was going to garrote himself with his violin strings if something exciting didn't happen. Fast.

He didn't have to wait long. The very next day, a horde of very loud, half drunk thieves showed up on Ali Raberba's doorstep, demanding a place to spend the night.

Ali Raberba's father was a peace loving man, and a kind one at that, so he refrained from chasing the drunken idiots off with a shotgun. Instead, he apologetically offered the thieves (forty in all) the barn to sleep in as that was the best he had to offer.

It actually wouldn't have made a difference if he had asked them to sleep in the outhouse because they were too stoned to really care.

They turned out to be bunch of sociable fellows who only robbed when they found themselves at the very end of the stick. Then again, if they were truly good people, they'd have gone off and found work or at least formed a rock band or something like that to earn honest money.

Rashid, their leader, told Ali Raberba wondrous tales of foreign lands and exotic animals, even though it was quite clear from his big talk that he hadn't been anywhere outside of Arabia. Nonetheless, Ali Raberba was enthralled by his stories and was quite keen on following the forty thieves the next day when they resumed their journey towards their hidden treasure. Hidden treasure, Rashid leaked, that could only be accessed by a secret code.

It was just Ali Raberba's luck that Rashid chose that exact moment to drop into an alcohol induced sleep.

Ali Raberba's father was totally against him joining a gang of thieves, of course. After all, if Ali Raberba left, there would be no one to carry on the family line, inherit the family fortune, etc.

So, with guilt and sadness in his heart, Ali Raberba took off with the forty thieves without his father's knowledge... and for that matter, without the knowledge of the forty thieves either. He managed to stow himself away for a better part of the journey in one of their wagons. He hated the smell of the tarp, but he grimaced and held his breath, breathing only when necessary (meaning, before he turned blue and suffocated).

It could have been six or eight hours later when they all finally trundled to a halt. Ali Raberba hopped off before the could discover him, and hid behind a good, large dune of sand.

He watched in amazement as Rashid slipped off his camel, walked to a graffiti covered rock face and raised his arms, at the same time proclaiming loudly at the top of his lungs, "OPEN---"

The rest was lost in a roar of water as a geyser suddenly sprung up, creating an oasis in the middle of the desert. A geyser in the middle of the desert? Hey, anything is possible.

Ali Raberba swallowed the few expletives that were about to rise up his throat, though there wasn't a need to. The thing that happened next so surprised him that it took his breath away.

The graffiti covered rock face split apart, revealing a dark tunnel stretching deep into the bowels of the earth. What could possibly be down there, he did not know, but he was sure he would find out.

Before he could react, the forty thieves had already scuttled inside like a bunch of cockroaches, and the rock face closed once more with a resounding BANG.

He cast an evil glance at the innocently spraying geyser as he advanced upon the seemingly seamless hunk of rock.

Rashid had said some sort of password... but what was it? He thought hard, but could come up with little more than thoughts of... TEA. Out of desperation, he decided to use exactly that.

"Open Royal Ceylon."

The rock face remained stubbornly quiet. And closed.

"Open Earl Grey."

Nothing.

"Open English Breakfast?"

Nope.

"Open Chamomile and Apple?"

Nuh, uh.

"ARGH! OPEN DARJEELING!"

The rock face gave an almost disappointed groan that he had gotten it right, and sulkily opened for him.

"Cool!"

He found the forty thieves lounging around their hideout, surrounded by treasure beyond comprehension. Ali Raberba suppressed the urge to say "whoa" like Keanu Reeves to the diamonds, rubies, sapphires and gold.

The forty thieves were thankfully asleep, so he had no trouble sneaking past them to explore the other treasure rooms. In the first, he found more ammunition than there was in an Oz facility and more firearms than two Oz bases. In the second he found crates stacked to the ceiling, all containing Darjeeling tea. In the third and final room, he found the thieves greatest treasure of all --- THE GUNDAM SANDROCK! And a boy with a long spiky brown fringe that was bound and gagged to a chair.

Ali Raberba advanced slowly, unsure of what to say.

"Err... hi."

"Mmmphh."

"Oh, of course," he muttered, embarrassed. He removed the gag on the boy's mouth.

"Thank you. And if you'll untie me?"

"Not yet. Who are you? What's your name?"

"My name? You can call me... Trowa Barton."

"Hm. Okay, can you tell me why you are here?"

"I was kidnapped so that I could finish work on this stolen Gundam. I have my own, but I obviously couldn't take it along."

"I see."

"You know, if you untie me, I can show you how to pilot this Gundam and you can have all the treasure that belongs to these people."

"But that's not nice..."

"Look kid, if this world were a nice place, I wouldn't be here."

"Uh...right."

To cut a long story short, Ali Raberba took a crash course in piloting a Gundam, terrorized the forty thieves with it and eventually became their leader, the original leader Rashid being glad to be rid of them. Trowa decided he liked the boy, went back to the base, retrieved his own Heavy Arms Gundam, joined forces with Ali Raberba and pillaged Oz bases of their ammo, fire arms, new test weapons and of course, lots of Darjeeling Himalaya tea.

Ali Raberba and Trowa Barton (if that was his real name) fell in love and they lived happily ever after with the forty mostly sober henchmen.

"How did you like the story, my Shah Trowa?"

"It was a most entertaining one, Shehara-Quatre."

"And how will you reward me, my Shah?"

"Oh... I have a few ideas. But you must do the Dance of The Seven Veils..."

"Ah, I see. Only another 752 nights to go..."

OWARI!

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