{"id":433,"date":"2012-06-14T11:11:54","date_gmt":"2012-06-14T19:11:54","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.bukkhead.com\/blog\/?p=433"},"modified":"2012-06-14T11:11:54","modified_gmt":"2012-06-14T19:11:54","slug":"i-am-getting-so-damn-tired-of-all-these-ninjas-in-my-house","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.bukkhead.com\/blog\/2012\/06\/14\/i-am-getting-so-damn-tired-of-all-these-ninjas-in-my-house\/","title":{"rendered":"I Am Getting So Damn Tired of All These Ninjas in My House."},"content":{"rendered":"

fiction by Jason Edwards<\/em><\/p>\n

I am getting so damn tired of all these ninjas in my house. Stupid Japs. Look, I am not a racist. I\u2019m not racist. I have three friends with Jewish names, my neighbor is a black guy, very friendly, and as for the Japs, I even like sushi, okay? I am not racist. I\u2019m just so tired of all these ninjas in my damn house!<\/p>\n

Like the other night, I\u2019m in bed, trying to sleep, long day, I work for a living damn it. Then I hear something. Silent assassins my ass. I open my eyes, and up there, clinging to the ceiling, a ninja, just watching me. So I roll out of bed real quick, and thwip thwip thwip, three throwing stars right into the pillow where my head was just at! So I pull out a samurai sword from under the bed\u2014yes, I have a sword, and you would too if you had ninjas\u2014and when the little fucker drops down, I cut him up, good. Now I\u2019ve got ninja blood all over my samurai sword, my bed, my clothes. And that pillow is ruined. I had to spend the rest of the night cleaning up, burying the body, bundling together towels for a pillow for the night since JC Penny isn\u2019t open that late. I work for a living god damn it!<\/p>\n

If they were predictable, that would be one thing. I can go two, three weeks with nary a ninja. And just when I think it\u2019s over, it\u2019s done, like they don\u2019t come around in the spring or something, I\u2019ll go to get some cereal out of the pantry and there\u2019s one squatting there. Thwip thwip, use my cereal bowl to deflect the throwing stars, he comes flying out, I dodge, rip open the refrigerator door to block his ninja kick, and when he falls back, hurl the toaster-oven at him. I think the people at Bed Bath and Beyond are getting suspicious. I\u2019ve been through, like, five toaster-ovens that way. I like toast.<\/p>\n

I told James at work about it (he\u2019s one of the guys I know with a Jewish last name). He thought it was a metaphor. \u201cGet some Ninja-spray, Al.\u201d They\u2019re not goddamn slugs! They\u2019re ninjas! 15th century feudal Japanese assassins! They\u2019re not going to kept away with some pest strips and a good bleaching. Jesus Christ.<\/p>\n

I showed him my scars. \u201cI got this one a month ago. I was washing my car, minding my own business, and I couldn\u2019t find the squeegee, you know, to wipe the water off the windows. Then I remembered it was in the trunk from when I took the car to the car wash that time. So I go to open the trunk, and out comes this ninja! In broad damn-it daylight! All dressed in black with that faggy red sash around his waist, waving a katana like a flag in a parade! He got me good, right here, before I wrapped the garden hose around his legs, punched him in the back of his head a few times, then stuffed him back into the trunk. Had to get seventeen stitches. The deductible on the insurance is killing me, James!\u201d<\/p>\n

He wasn\u2019t impressed. Tried to show me a scratch he had on his shoulder. \u201cSwordfight ,last week, with a pirate.\u201d<\/p>\n

I couldn\u2019t tell if he was making fun of me, until Dave popped up from his cubicle. \u201cMy sister was chased by zombies last week.\u201d James just stared him like he was an asshole until he sat down again.<\/p>\n

So far, I\u2019ve been lucky, I guess\u2014it\u2019s only at home. There\u2019s this bar I go to a few times a week, a nice little place, clean. Got a nautical theme. Pretty much anti-ninja, which is nice. I\u2019m in there once, and this old pro\u2019s sitting next to me. Seen her a few times, she knows I\u2019m not shopping, so we just talk about sports or whatever. I tell her about my problem. \u201cOne was hiding in my bathroom once, in the tub, I could see him through the curtain. Managed to slice him down before he even made a move, buried him in the same curtain. So that was an easy one.\u201d I laugh at the irony of it , sip my ginger n\u2019 rye.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou sure they\u2019re ninjas? Maybe you got Yakuzas.\u201d She\u2019s smoking a cigarillo, looks almost more like a bandito than a pro, in her cowboy hat and bandoleer and chaps.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat, the Japanese mafia? Naw, they don\u2019t wear pin stripe suits or sunglasses or have elaborate tattoos. Just short little fuckers in silk pajamas and face masks.\u201d I shudder and finish my drink. Munch some peanuts.<\/p>\n

\u201cMaybe they\u2019re in disguise?\u201d The door opens, this huge werewolf thing\u2019s standing there, she pulls out her six shooter and plugs him between the eyes, blows smoke off the barrel and reholsters. \u201cSilver bullets,\u201d she says.<\/p>\n

I shrug. \u201cAnother one, Larry,\u201d waggle my glass at him. \u201cMaybe. Seems pretty elaborate. I mean they only attack me at home. I figure Yakuza, they\u2019d go for a car bomb or something.\u201d<\/p>\n

She shrugs back at me, adjusts her hat, stands up and throws some bills on the bar. \u201cMaybe it\u2019s an honor thing. I gotta git\u2014got a client at 3:30.\u201d Then she moseys off, sound of gunfire coming from outside after she leaves.<\/p>\n

I get up to the use the can, and right before I open the door, I get nervous. I got my hand stretched out, just frozen like a jerk. What if there\u2019s a ninja in there? I don\u2019t have my samurai sword, I\u2019m not quite drunk yet but a good ways along, so my reflexes won\u2019t be so good. What if there\u2019s one in there, got his katana and nun-chucks all ready to go. I\u2019ve led a good life, I guess, other than this ninja thing. But am I ready to buy it, right here, in this shitty little bar, a handful of peanuts my last meal?<\/p>\n

The light underneath the door goes off, and I didn\u2019t even realize it was on, and I get this cold rush down my spine, cause that means someone\u2019s in there after all, and I\u2019m still standing there with my hand out when the door opens and Chuck Harper walks out. He goes \u201coops\u201d like I was grabbing the door right when he opened it. Heads back to the bar. I get the shakes, go in, feeling stupid, cause like I said, they never attack me anywhere except at home. Make a mess on the toilet rim, I\u2019m shaking so bad. But I get it cleaned up as I calm down, a bunch of TP, three flushes worth. I ain\u2019t no slob.<\/p>\n

I\u2019ve tried everything. I\u2019ve called the cops, but they don\u2019t seem to care. I saw a psychiatrist, just to make sure it wasn\u2019t all in my head. By the time we were through my second session, she told me \u201cAl, you\u2019re not crazy, okay? You\u2019ve got ninjas, and that just happens sometimes. I can give you a prescription for valium, to calm down between attacks, if you want.\u201d I took the scrip, but never filled it.<\/p>\n

Camus, I think it was, in Myth of Sisyphus<\/em>, said something about how, once you accept your punishment, it isn\u2019t punishment anymore. At least that\u2019s what the back of the book said\u2014I never read the whole thing. Of course, he was talking about the punishment we get for bothering to stay alive. Like it\u2019s our own damn fault we\u2019re so miserable, when there\u2019s always the suicide option. It\u2019s not giving up, and it\u2019s not noble, either. It\u2019s just a choice, like choosing a blue tie instead of red a one. I can quit my bitching, let the ninjas do what they do, or just man up. There\u2019s kids starving in Africa. They don\u2019t got ninjas, but they don\u2019t got boiled hot-dogs on Fridays either.<\/p>\n

(Ninjas came at me while I was cooking those once. Spilled \u2018em on the floor in the ruckus. I was pissed something terrible, let me tell you, for that one. But I still ate \u2018em.)<\/p>\n

Anyway. Here I am, sitting in my living room. TV\u2019s busted, big crack in the window, pile of dead ninjas ruining my sofa. Three of \u2018em. Three of \u2018em came at me at the same time. I thought they were supposed to work alone. Maybe they\u2019re getting tired of me too? Maybe they\u2019re getting fed up with how many times I haven\u2019t been killed by them yet. I don\u2019t know.<\/p>\n

Sure, I could just let \u2018em do it, let \u2018em kill me, let \u2018em then dissolve back into the night. Cops\u2019ll call it a heart attack or something. I\u2019m 54 years old, that\u2019s not too young. But it\u2019s the principle of thing, isn\u2019t it? Okay, fine, ninjas killed my dad, and his dad before him. It runs in the family, maybe. But I thought we were supposed to be making the world a better place, each generation. Thought we were supposed to be happier. I need this curse like I need a hole in my head. I need to be digging ninja graves in my back yard like I need new taxes. Gimme a damn break!<\/p>\n

And now there\u2019s a sound coming from the ceiling, a scrabbling sound, and I can hear something crunching over the broken glass I laid down in the crawlspace. Five of \u2018em in one day, are you shitting me? I\u2019d move, but let\u2019s face it, the housing market ain\u2019t what it used to be. I guess this is just my cross to bear. Stupid ninjas.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

fiction by Jason Edwards I am getting so damn tired of all these ninjas in my house. Stupid Japs. Look, I am not a racist. I\u2019m not racist. I have three friends with Jewish names, my neighbor is a black guy, very friendly, and as for the Japs, I even like sushi, okay? I am … <\/p>\n

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