Monthly Archives: August 2014

Sorry, I’m A Ninja

Sorry, I’m A Ninja

by

Brian Newlin

Good morning. Yes, I slept well. No, I cannot get myself dressed for school, unless I can wear an inky black shozoko, the traditional garb that allows me to melt into the shadows. Sorry, I’m a ninja.

Breakfast? Yes, thank you,  I am very hungry. I would like pancakes with syrup, a single sausage cut into perfectly identical bite size slices, and milk. Swiftly! No, I cannot come to the table at the moment, I must silently creep up on the cat and pull his tail. 

Go to school? Ha ha ha. That ironic laugh will be the last thing you hear. You have displeased me, and my hands are deadly. 

Very well, I shall attend daycare, but only because I choose to do so. I shall use my ninja powers to disguise myself as a normal, adorable four year old child. Yes, please and thank you, teacher! The other children are vaguely uneasy in my presence. They can sense the coiled tiger of my steely gaze. I warn you, do not touch my choo choo!

I am saddened to discover the promised gold star is not, in fact, a shuriken

I return to my home after my schooling. I will not tell you what I did today. A ninja is silence. And swords. Definitely swords. 

HIYAAAA! Did I startle you, parent? I know I did. Sitting on the toilet is no excuse. A ninja is everywhere and nowhere. Pew, yuck. Were you pooping? I shall leave you to it. 

HIIIYAAAAAAAA! 

Dinnertime. I demand cake, a chocolate chip cookie, chocolate milk, and french fries. That is a proper meal for a ninja. Broccoli?!? FEEL MY WRATH! 

No. I will not pick up these toys. That is not a proper job for a ninja. You shall pick them up for me, while I scale the sofa with my grappling hook. Fool.

Ninja do not take baths. Ok, they do. With bubbles. Many bubbles. More bubbles. I hide amongst the bubbles, waiting to strike. That water all over the floor? It is a trap. For my enemies. Mostly you. HIIYAAAA!

The remote is missing, you say? How strange. Perhaps it was stolen away by the most crafty of assassins, a mere whisper of a ghost of a fleeting memory… a ninja. I will never reveal its location! POOF! Smoke bomb! No, just pretend. Pretend! POOF! SMOKE BOMB!

Bedtime is not for ninja. The night is my home. Do not attempt to lull me to sleep with your stories. Ninja do not sleep. Especially on soft snuggly pillows. Perhaps I shall just close my eyes for a moment. Meditating. Breathing is slowing. Slowing.

HIYAAAA! 

Sorry, I’m a ninja.

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