Psycho Dave is One with the Ninja (Part Three (869 hits)
Category: NoneLabels: Psycho_Dave
Rating: 1.33 on 9 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by The Internet Slacker (View user info) at 2007-11-10 19:15:18 EST
(Part Three dedicated to Brdn_Nkd, TechnoRatty, triangle_man, scourge & monkeyswithguns. Yes I'm a +2 whore.)
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Three seats away and the bus driver hadn't spotted the stealthy approach of Psycho Dave. If he had glanced up a few seconds before in his rear view mirror he would have been treated to the sight of a Ninja in the middle aisle crawling like Spider-Man on the floor towards him. But by now Dave was too close to be spotted by the poor innocent bastard, his Ninja presence out of sight of the rear view mirror and making excellent time towards the driver.
The occupant of the seat behind the driver was a homeless-looking old guy who merely smiled and waved at Dave. Dave waved back and crouched behind the bus driver, inches away from the homeless guy's knees, but it seemed the old man was enjoying the show. Many more people were now aware of Psycho Ninja Dave, though, and they were talking amongst themselves in hushed, concerned voices.
I could see Dave pause; I knew from long experience with my mentally unbalanced friend that he was probably wondering what the hell he should do now at this particular point in time. Dave was never good at foreplanning. I also knew that whatever his horrible decision turned out to be, I should probably hang onto something heavy and solid. So I grabbed onto the back of the bus seat in front of me and braced myself for the certain evil that was about to occur.
With great and shocking speed Dave shot up from the floor and grabbed the bus driver's right bicep like he explaining a very important fact. "I'M A NINJA!" Dave screamed.
The bus driver screamed in response. "AAAHHHHHH!" went the bus driver.
"REEEEEEEEE!" complained the bus's tires as the driver unintentionally yanked the steering wheel violently to the left, his arms pushed by his body in a desperate and purely instinctive fight-or-flight response that had chosen 'flight'. Every passenger including myself was jerked viciously to the right a la Newtonian physics.
The bus's front shot into the outside left lane of Carling Avenue, a wide and busy downtown street not designed for large public transportation vehicles gone rogue. A big Oldsmobile - a beautiful white 1977 Cutlass Coupe - slammed on its brakes, stopping not two inches away from the moving metal wall suddenly saying 'howdy!' to its path.
By this time Dave had fallen into the stairwell of the front entrance of the bus, caught off-balance by the driver's panicked maneuver. All I could see were his two black Ninja legs sticking out at a forty-five degree right angle; the rest of him was obscured by the front right seat and the screaming old lady sitting on it. I remembered she had had a nervous-looking toy poodle in her lap during the calmer times on this bus; it was gone now, probably suffering a canine stroke underneath a seat.
Mr. Unhappy Bus Driver let loose a coarse, loud expletive and pulled the steering wheel to the right in a desperate attempt to corral the now uncooperative metal beast surrounding him, us, and an adolescent Ninja with extremely poor forethought back into the proper street lane. He succeeded with the front of the bus, but now the middle left side of it was scraping against the formerly-beautiful white Oldsmobile. Many, many sparks flew up as car metal kissed bus metal.
Still holding onto the back of the seat in front of me with great fear, I shifted my eyes in their respective eye sockets to the left, not daring to move my body, to observe the driver of the Cutlass Coupe. He was a non-descript looking guy, although I guess nobody looks 'non-descript' when suddenly presented with a bus jumping on their car. I couldn't determine his nationality because his face was red with rage. His mouth was moving like he was screaming angry questions at somebody. Probably God, I was guessing.
The left side of the bus pulled away from the car after two long loud and sparkly seconds and back into the right lane. I looked at the side of the Oldsmobile. Long, black-ish stripes ran all the way from the back to the front of the white automobile and for one surreal moment I felt like I was studying a square mechanical zebra.
The bus driver applied the bus's brakes with pissed-off vigor, making everyone lean forward like fascinated vultures. Somewhere I could hear a poodle making weak gurgling sounds.
"OFF! OFF MY BUS! OFF!" yelled the driver as he pulled on the lever that opened the bus's door. Dave's legs went up from their former forty-five degree angle past ninety as he tumbled out the bus ass-backwards.
I stood up and almost ran to the side exit doors, my legs stiff-legged in shock as they always were whenever I had to escape from whatever it was Psycho Dave had done. I could see the driver's eyes looking at me with great suspicion in the rear-view mirror. "Uh, this is my, uh, stop..." I offered him. After a scary moment's pause he finally pushed the button to open the exit doors and I scrambled out the bus.
As I hopped down from bus step to sidewalk I looked to the right only to see a rapidly retreating Ninja becoming smaller and smaller as he moved towards the horizon. Moving my head to the left, I now observed the driver of the Oldsmobile getting out of his car and stomping towards the bus, presumably to talk to the bus driver in a calm, lucid manner.
I sighed and started running after Dave. Back to Ninja H.Q. and whatever horrible plans he had for the unsuspecting residents in his neighbourhood. I looked down at the wrapped-up Ninja outfit I was just now unclenching from my chest. There were ten fingernail crescent marks in the shrink-wrap.
Why did it seem like Psycho Dave was always promising fun times but I always ended up scared senseless? And the scary thing was... Dave never seemed frightened, or panicked, or even dismayed at his own horrible actions; he always had a fun time.
-- FIN --
User Reviews
Submitted by DudeThatsBOSH (user info) at 2007-11-14 10:20:27 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
"I'M A NINJA!!!!"
Submitted by triangle_man (user info) at 2007-11-12 13:31:27 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
fuck ninjas
Submitted by Brdn_Nkd (user info) at 2007-11-12 12:46:30 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
i was entertained and name dropped so what the hell. go rea someof my stuff now you name dropping dirty bastard.
Submitted by sexualchocolate1984 (user info) at 2007-11-12 11:48:44 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
On one hand we've got Ninja = auto+2, but then again the story was shit, long winded and didn't really come to much.
Although on the other hand, as said above, this story left me needing to poop (+2) but then again I've not got time to poop right now as work is almost finished.
Fuck it +1, good effort, i suppose, you fuckstick.
Submitted by orphelia (user info) at 2007-11-11 02:27:21 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
There is no part 4? Damn you, I wanted my dedication!!!!
Submitted by Ballare (user info) at 2007-11-10 22:37:14 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I just finished reading this and then I stood up and got the feeling I needed to poop really really badly so then I did and I gave birth to a very round very hard poop about the size of a baseball
so for that I suppose I must thank you
Submitted by monkeyswithguns (user info) at 2007-11-10 20:51:29 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Take your +2 and get the fuck out of my hotel room hit-whore.
Tonight I'm reminded of when my cousin and I would borrow ninja training books from our public library.
I'm not certain how they ended up in our public library, but sure enough they were there, in the self-help section.
We would spend the summer days of our youth training to be master-ninjas, reading over the books, watching ninja movies, and making weapons in the woods.
Oh, how I miss those days.
Submitted by ilikesteak (user info) at 2007-11-10 20:20:50 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
The series entertained me.
Submitted by ConorJS (user info) at 2007-11-10 19:27:47 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
If this is true, it's really not funny.