Psycho Dave is One with the Ninja (Part One) (1835 hits)
Category: Quotes & StoriesLabels: Psycho_Dave
Rating: 0.37 on 8 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by The Internet Slacker (View user info) at 2007-11-08 10:39:56 EST
At the dawn of the 80's decade the Ninja jumped into popular culture. Books, films, television, toys... no matter where you looked, there was a flippin' Ninja staring back at you.
In my early teen years I was introduced to this inexplicable Ninja craze thanks to my happy friend, Psycho Dave. He loved the idea of dressing in black from head to toe, creeping around at night, scaring the living shit out of people (or even mildly assaulting them), and then running away.
Dave owned many, many books by the very serious looking famous Ninja Master Stephen K. Hayes (whom wasn't actually of Asian heritage, which I thought was a prerequisite to being a Ninja Master, but there you go). Stephen K. Hayes didn't look so much like a Ninja as he did a somewhat gay bearded tax accountant. But his books, mailed to Dave for $19.95 each (plus shipping) through ads in various martial arts magazines, were crammed with ancient Ninjitsu lore and cool pictures of Stephen K. Hayes assaulting his presumably disposable Ninja students with sweet looking Oriental weapons.
Ninja weapons, Psycho Dave and I agreed, were very interesting and worthy of further investigation. There was the "nunchakus", two sticks of hard wood connected by a small piece of chain. Dave learned in a very short time that the purpose of nunchakus (or "nun-chucks" as we called them) was to fling them around his body in a fast impressive manner until they hit his skull, a bystander's skull (mine), or both. I myself discovered that another function of nun-chucks was to propel themselves violently into my adolescent testicles while I practiced with them in Dave's basement (Psycho Dave confided to me that he'd never seen someone actually curl up into a fetal ball and weep before, but that he'd found the experience hilarious).
There were other weapons, too: the "shuriken", small metal pointed "stars" you threw at your enemies (or, in 1980's teenager lingo, "chucked at someone's head"). The "tonfa", a short rectangle of thick wood nailed onto a wooden handle that you jammed into people's faces. And the "bo", the Oriental version of the fighting staff, which is really just a long thick dowel of wood effective for causing blunt force trauma Ninja-style.
As we read books and watched movies about Ninjas, Psycho Dave and I became more and more determined to become Ninjas ourselves. So, of course, we had to get Ninja outfits. HAD to. It just wouldn't do for us to creep around our neighborhoods wearing black bathrobes and dark ski masks.
I don't know how real Ninjas in the ancient past got their outfits - I guess their grandmothers were Ninja seamstresses or something - but fortunately for Dave and I a real, actual martial art supply store had recently opened up in our city of Ottawa. We had to check it out.
"You think we'll be able to load up on Ninja shit at this store?" I asked Dave as we rode the number 85 bus towards downtown.
"It's not called Ninja shit, it's sacred Ninja gear", Psycho Dave replied. "But yeah, hopefully we can buy lots of throwing stars to chuck at people's heads." An elderly lady sitting behind Dave looked up at him, startled.
We finally got to the store, a grungy little floor-level establishment on Rideau Street with the name of 'Eastern Tiger Martial Arts Supply Depot'. In the display window were various books, many of which were of the aforementioned Stephen K. Hayes; Ninja Master Hayes' printed face seemed to stare back at Dave and I with an approving expression for making the sacred trek to the store.
Amongst the books were various Ninja weapons: nun-chuks, tonfa, throwing stars, and other exotic looking lethal devices I couldn't name. "Fuck YEAH!" Dave exclaimed as he opened the door and almost ran into the store, me close behind him.
Inside the place was an unshaven guy in his late twenties with a stained Rush concert t-shirt sitting behind a small counter. To me he kind of looked like an older version of the guys I'd see behind my school by the fire escape exit smoking cigarettes during lunch hour. Not exactly what you'd call your typical looking vendor of sacred Ninjitsu paraphernalia. But, who knows, maybe he was actually a Master Ninja in the clever disguise of a stoned dropout who loved to repeatedly listen to "Subdivisions".
On the left and right walls of the store were shelves full of more books about how to hurt people with one's bare hands while looking cool. But Psycho Dave and I had had our fill of reading; we wanted to own the actual tools of the Ninja trade.
"Hi guys," said Sacred Ninja Master Geddy Lee (that's how Dave and I referred to him after we left). "Anything you're looking for?" He appeared a bit annoyed that we had interrupted the sacred silence of his martial arts supply store, but at the same time somewhat eager at the prospect of selling overpriced dangerous weapons to minors.
"Yeah!" Dave exclaimed. "We both need Ninja outfits and Ninja weapons. Lots of Ninja weapons. Fuckloads."
"Cool." Master Geddy was pleased. "I got that stuff, no problem. Ninja suits... let me see..." He sized up Dave and me with an appraising look and pulled out two dark rectangles from a huge box behind him labeled "NINJA POW SUITS CHINA - BULK". The box also displayed the crudely drawn face of a manically-happy cartoon Ninja saying the English words, "HAPPY NINJAS WEAR HAPPY NINJA POW NINJA SUIT COSTUMING! FOR DARK NINJA MYSTERY!!!"
Well, I thought to myself, that's gotta be authentic Ninja apparel, cause the box's description sure as hell had the word "Ninja" on it a lot. I took the thing the guy handed me - a thick black patch of bundled-up fabric wrapped in clear plastic - and saw a small silver sticker on it with the letters 'XL'.
"Yeah, I think this extra-large official Ninja outfit will fit you, you're a big guy", remarked the store proprietor. It was true, I was a fat kid. In the back of my mind I was dreading that in this outfit I'd look like a Ninja with a thyroid disorder. "And for you, uh," he said to Dave. "You're lean, so the small size should fit well." Dave was a small skinny guy, although he preferred to describe his physique as "cat-like".
Each Ninja suit also bore the price of $39.95, a steep amount for Dave and I to spend on our limited budgets, but we had saved a nice chunk of money from stealing about a dozen of those small clear plastic charity boxes people put their spare change in at convenience store counters. We had called these acts of minor larceny 'Ninja Stealth Training', or NST for short. Used properly in a sentence: "Hey, let's go to the local 7-11 and practice NST while the clerk isn't paying attention."
At the end of our shopping spree at Eastern Tiger Martial Arts Supply Depot, after some haggling with the inscrutable yet very Caucasian Ninja Master Geddy Lee, Dave and I ended up with a Ninja suit each, three throwing stars between us, nun-chuks for Dave and a set of tonfa for me. Irresponsible young teenage excitement filled our hearts with manic expectation as we took the bus back to Dave's house, our Ninja H.Q., to prepare for the evening's activities.
"Uh... what exactly are we going to do with all this stuff anyways?" I asked Dave while we sat at the back of the bus, away from the prying ears of elderly women-folk.
"We're gonna go out tonight as Ninjas and lower property values in the neighborhood." Psycho Dave replied.
*** Part Two, Tomorrow ***
User Reviews
Submitted by monkeyswithguns (user info) at 2007-11-08 22:00:38 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I can't -2 ninjas.
I remember watching all the "American Ninja" series, with that white guy with 80's hair and the black dude with the one fucked up eye.
Gotta love the ninja.
Story wasn't bad either.
Submitted by Brdn_Nkd (user info) at 2007-11-08 14:09:13 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
i enjoyed this but seeing that it's ganked makes me sad in my happy place.
Submitted by scourge (user info) at 2007-11-08 12:30:41 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
what was i reviewing?
better leave a 2 just in case i liked it.
Submitted by triangle_man (user info) at 2007-11-08 12:05:20 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
yada
Submitted by TheUniter (user info) at 2007-11-08 11:42:48 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by HurtByTheSun (user info) at 2007-11-08 11:24:27 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Leonore (user info) at 2007-11-08 15:42:46 GMT (#)
Ranking: -2
www.realultimatepower.com
Fucking plagiarist.
======
That's not even the right link, slick.
Submitted by Darth_Famine (user info) at 2007-11-08 11:18:12 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
mildly amusing
I'm not a bad guy. I work hard and I love my kids. So why should I spend
half my Sunday hearing about how I'm going to Hell?
-- Homer Simpson
Homer the Heretic
Submitted by Leonore (user info) at 2007-11-08 10:42:46 EST (#)
Ranking: -2
www.realultimatepower.com
Fucking plagiarist.