Life of the Modern Day Ninja, pt. 3

It’s been a long, long time, my friends. I’ve been away on my travels, practicing the way of the ninja, in order to blend in better. It’s been a close couple of calls, with a near-decapitation and a near-capture on my record… not to mention that I was still hungry.  These past few months, however, have prepared me for the worst, and I’m ready to face my next challenge head on.

… well, to be fair, the only real way I’m going to be able to face the next challenge is if someone challenges me to a Microeconomics dual. And they’re going to have to be pretty bad at Microeconomics in order for me to succeed.

Evil thoughts… evil thoughts…I have the ultimate power… oooooooommmmmm…

This evening, after returning from a nearly 9 month absence, I decided that it was time for an assassination.

Women and children, you may want to cover your eyes.

I was getting ready for what these people call “work”, putting things into my backpack to make it appear as though I was “hip” and “busy”, when I heard an all too familiar squeaking sound coming from under my bed. Over my time training in the wilderness, I’d become very accustomed to this noise. It was the sound of the land vulture, an evil critter that has spread like wildfire, bringing destruction and terror in its wake.

Yes, I am speaking of the common field mouse.

Instinctively, I jumped onto my bed. I mean, seriously, it’s a freakin’ MOUSE, people. You’re telling me you wouldn’t jump? Cripes…

But then, I channeled my inner ninja, and thought “what would we do in this situation?”

First, I called Jimmy John’s.  Then, I sat and contemplated my next maneuver. I knew that this mouse was a cunning opponent, and would fight to the death in order to ensure its survival. I also knew that I had one shot at ending this battle quickly, before it would attempt to relocate to another battleground. I decided to meditate on the matter.

The next thing I heard was “HOLY SHIT, A MOUSE!”, followed by the smack of a plastic bag full of sandwich and chips hitting the floor and the frantic patter of the delivery man’s feet as he ran away. Excellent… free dinner.

I opened my eyes to see the Brown Devil crawling towards my victory dinner, lying prone and helpless by the door to my dojo. I could see the hunger in its eyes, and as I watched him scurry forward, I knew that I had mere moments before it would be too late. I rose from my sitting position and, with a primal war cry, grabbed the closest thing to me and hurled it with deadly accuracy at the beast.

PlayStation 3 controllers make terrible projectiles. Shame on me for not having my throwing stars handy.

Missing its target, the projectile hit the floor with a loud bang, and exploded into dozens of pieces. So much for me playing any Final Fantasy XIII this week. With a snarl, the beast fled from my dojo, stopping first to defecate on my bag of chips. The odor hit my nostrils like Thai food in a used diaper.

Oh, it’s on.

I hurtled after the rodent, chasing it as it fled away from my center of zen. With 4 legs, it managed to scamper away faster than I could follow, and soon I had lost sight of it. However, it forgot… ninja. Using my elite tracking skills, I was able to follow the mouse to the nearby stairwell. (For the record… people get really afraid of mice, but are more than happy to tell someone “IT WENT THAT WAY!!! OH MY GOD KILL IT!!!” Like I said… Elite. Tracking. Skills.)

I opened the door to the stairwell, cursing at the squeaky mechanisms. Seriously, this “elite” society has fancy new programs that can completely remove a person from a photograph, but they can’t make silent doors? Yeesh. I heard the scratching of the mouse’s deadly claws as it climbed the stairway, and I gave chase. Gracefully leaping from stair to stair, and only tripping 3 times, I ascended the 3 flights of stairs to the top floor of the building and burst through the doorway.

“IT WENT THAT WAY!!! OH MY GOD KILL IT!!!”

Thanks, ma’am.

I snuck up to the next door, vowing to get the jump on this critter once and for all. Though I was without a weapon, I was certain that my hand to hand combat skills would be enough to bitch slap that mouse into next week. I rose from my crouch and peered through the tiny window, and there it was, oblivious to the world around it. With a grin, I flung the door open and hurled myself at the creature.

“OH MY GOD A MOUSE!!!!!!!!!”

I swear I have the worst luck in the world when it comes to timing. Seriously, dude, could you just keep your mouth shut for a half a second?

Startled by the girlish screaming coming from the 6’7″ behemoth clad in nothing but a towel, the devil-spawn darted forward. Not to be outdone, I hustled after it on all fours, finally putting my Excited Puppy Form to good use (yeah, and you thought martial arts forms were all based on fearsome creatures like the Grasshopper, didn’t you?). Somehow, I was gaining ground, and finally, I knew I could make one final leap and pounce on the mouse once and for all.

As I was about to make my move, the mouse suddenly darted left. Not to be outdone, I shifted my weight and threw myself into its path…

You know, I should really give this society a little more credit. Perhaps your hinges may squeak, and maybe you let huge dudes squeal in fear, but damnit, you make sturdy doors. Sturdy enough that when I launch my head into one, I will knock myself silly, allowing anything that I happen to be pursuing to escape.

When I finally came to, I realized there was no way that I could get after that critter. Ninja Lockpicking Skillz weren’t taught until Level 7… I still had a ways to go. However, the room I had ended up at housed someone to whom I owed money, so I got out my checkbook, jotted a check, and slipped it under his door, before shamelessly walking to work, utterly defeated.

One day, mouse. One day, when you least expect it, I will finally figure out how to arm this trap without snapping my fingers, and will remember to buy cheese at the supermarket. And on that day, you will be mine…

* This story is 98% fiction. I am a ninja, and I am at work right now. Everything else was made up. Maybe.
** No delivery men, rodents, screaming giants, or PlayStation controllers were injured in the making of the story. Just my pride.
*** I actually hate Jimmy John’s, except for their day-old bread.
**** I really like asterisks.  They look like mini-throwing stars.