Tagged: ninja

“There Were Coded Messages”

  • by jenlearning that the hard way
  • like an army of idiosyncratic ninjas
  • enjoy international fame
  • strange suction-cup-shaped marks
  • amidst the gratified shouts

Tune in next time part 871      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“There were coded messages amidst the gratified shouts from the hot tub,” Titania whispered. That wasn’t the confusing part. The confusing part was what she said next. “We all emerged with strange suction-cup-shaped marks covering our bodies, and yet there were no squids at this particular party.”

The first confusing thing was the idea of a clown hot tub party with no squids. Clowns enjoy international fame (or perhaps infamy) for their cephalopod predilections for a reason! The second source of confusion was trying to imagine the source of the suction-cup marks, if not a betentacled sea creature.

And then it came to me. I finally understood why Titania was whispering all this lore to her steed. It was indeed intended for my ears, not those of the Dennis brothers. She was telling me that there existed in the world something like an army of idiosyncratic ninjas crossbred with clowns, and armed with suction cups, just as I had always feared and suspected. By telling me she spared me the danger of learning that the hard way.

Now I merely faced the danger of passing along that intel to someone who could do something about it. And the danger of the clown-ninjas themselves.

Which was scarier — clown-ninjas, or ninja-clowns? I shuddered in my horse costume.

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Titania’s Whisper

  • by jenlike he’s the last jasmine blossom
  • double my electric bill
  • figure out my buttermilk situation
  • knife-wielding spider god
  • kneads them like dough

Tune in next time part 869      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Titania’s whisper traveled down the neck of the horse costume, allowing me to easily hear every word she said.

“BimBam acts like he’s the last jasmine blossom in the florist’s shop.”

My blood ran cold. The Last Jasmine Blossom was the allegedly mythical ninja I had written my Academy thesis about. I’d spent many sleepless nights studying in the library, burning the midnight oil so that I didn’t double my electric bill. I’d come to the terrifying conclusion that the Last Jasmine Blossom was no mere cryptid. He (or she!) was the most dangerous ninja in history. My thesis defense was well-attended by other Academy students and alumni. Surely Titania knew of my conclusions. Was she implying obliquely, in the way of clowns, that BimBam Tickles, the Iron Clown of Svenborgia and the Last Jasmine Blossom were one and the same? My mind boggled. I’d rather figure out my buttermilk situation with a knife-wielding spider god than deal with something like that, and everyone knows my feelings on buttermilk.

My mind does more than boggle. It takes two such intimidating ideas and kneads them like dough. It puts them in the proving drawer and runs away screaming.

I tried to look on the bright side. Maybe Titania had figured out I was in the back half of the horse costume and was merely trying to scare me.

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The Passion of Valentina’s Kiss

  • by Kentthe stroke that a dog uses when swimming
  • which we call the Alchemist
  • bring his microphone and a recording device
  • Tall, pale, and lanky
  • “You know, the sexy one.”

Tune in next time part 668      Click Here for Earlier Installments

The passion of Valentina’s kiss was impressive, and it would have been quite enjoyable if her tongue action weren’t cramming a big wad of nylon down my throat. As my oxygen levels dropped, I tried to fight her off with motions that must have resembled the stroke that a dog uses when swimming.

I blacked out momentarily, and came to in the middle of a mob of EMTs. As my head cleared I realized that they were just the same ninja production assistants from before, except one guy with a stethoscope.

“This is our on-set medical coordinator,” Valentina informed me from somewhere nearby but outside my peripheral vision. “A job which we call the Alchemist because of some silly union thing. Whenever he comes in on a call, he has to bring his microphone and a recording device as well as his first-aid stuff. It’s in the bylaws.”

The Alchemist was a distinctive person. Tall, pale, and lanky, with long braids like a macrame plant hanger. He leaned down to apply the stethoscope, but that was just a cover for his true goal of whispering in my ear. “Do you think you could introduce me to your brother?” he asked breathily. “You know, the sexy one.”

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I Wondered Who Oksana had Invited

  • by jentheir headquarters in Virginia
  • and she wouldn’t say
  • his subtle middle finger
  • “Oh, it’s going to be that kind of a party!”
  • between the USA and USSR

Tune in next time part 473      Click Here for Earlier Installments

I wondered who Oksana had invited to her auction. Which foreign faction would be most interested in the secrets inside Jim’s head? If I were lucky it would be the Contrarian Secret Police, and they would bundle him off to their headquarters in Virginiastan. If I were unlucky it would be the CIA and they would disappear him to their headquarters in Virginia.

I deployed my periscope again as Jim did the heavy interrogational lifting for me, trying to get Oksana to tell him who the bidders would be. But no matter how he charmed and cajoled her, she merely chuckled, and she wouldn’t say a word about it. In desperation Jim crooked his subtle middle finger at her in a most flirtatious manner (or at least as flirtatiously as his bonds would allow), but even that failed to make her crack.

With a final cruel laugh, Oksana said, “I’m going to go take a shower and get dressed. The ninjas will be back to clean you up and administer the hallucinogens.”

Jim tried to sound nonchalant, but I detected a quaver of fear in his drawl. “I didn’t know it was going to be that kind of party.”

“Oh, it’s going to be that kind of a party!” Oksana gleefully assured. “In grand Colloquilian tradition.”

The last grand Colloquilian hallucination auction bacchanal that I had heard of nearly started a war between the USA and USSR, and that was a good decade after the USSR collapsed.

I needed to get Jim the hell out of this cave.

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I Held My Gloved Hands Out

  • by jenshe says, “Open up your mouth, man.”
  • congratulating myself on my lucky escape
  • “Where did all these ninjas come from?”
  • didn’t hate him enough to turn down the money
  • orgy of sadness

Tune in next time part 469      Click Here for Earlier Installments

I held my gloved hands out, palm up, to show that they were empty. From the darkness a rough voice said something in a language I didn’t understand. The yeti in front of me said, “It’s an order straight from Oksana. He said, ‘She says, “Open up your mouth, man.” So you better cooperate. Let me see what’s in there.” Enormous furry fingers reached for my mouth, but just then, in a rush of rebounding vowel sounds, my contingent of yodelers came pouring from the passageway behind me. The yeti was startled, and I took advantage of the confusion to disappear into the shadows, congratulating myself on my lucky escape from cryptozoological dentistry.

“Where did all these ninjas come from?” the yeti exclaimed, strong evidence that he wasn’t the brightest biped in the mountain.

I crept along the walls of the cavern, through a maze of tunnels, searching for Oksana and my brother. As the yeti howls and yodeler ululations died down behind me, I could hear Jim’s voice up ahead. I bellycrawled to the corner and used my climbing suit’s periscope to peer around the final corner. Jim was shirtless, posing for a rapt Oksana. They were surrounded by a dozen people in yeti costumes, with the heads removed to reveal their black hoods and masks.

“Where did all these ninjas come from?” I asked myself.

Jim was putting the moves on Oksana, even while he drawled on about who had hired him to bring Isolde to Enigma Fortress. “Arlo’s a dick of course. I’ve always hated him. But I didn’t hate him enough to turn down the money.” He swiveled his hips to keep Oksana’s attention. “When he and Harry approached me at the Annual Royal Contrarian Winter Solstice Carnival and Orgy of Sadness, I heard them out. Their plan made me feel bad for poor Isolde, so I took their money and brought her here where she’d be safe.” He flexed. “Relatively safe, anyway.”

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Soon the Hammock Held Four Fire Eaters Sitting Side By Side

  • by jen“It’s stuck on something.”
  • hiding in the foliage
  • and rubbed it
  • you know I look like a woman
  • much of it will be excruciating

Tune in next time part 291      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Soon the hammock held four fire eaters sitting side by side, all young women dressed in skintight mylar. “Push us!” they cried in unison, heat shimmers accompanying their words.

The burly male fire eater behind them struggled to get them moving. “It’s stuck on something.”

I could tell that the real problem was that the four of them together weighed too much for the Mizzenpriestess’s flimsy hammock. It had stretched until their bottoms touched the ground.

The rest of the fire eater clan seemed shier. They hung back around the edges of the village, hiding in the foliage, although their mylar suits made hiding quite difficult.

Something didn’t seem right about all this foliage. I could have sworn it was much closer to the solar panel huts than when we arrived. I took Tessa’s hand and rubbed it, imparting a message to her through my thumb motions. “We are surrounded by ninjas camouflaged as jungle plants.”

The Mizzenpriestess reached the end of her dance and turned to the fire eaters in her hammock. “You know I look like a woman, a harmless old woman” she said in an affronted tone, “but I’m much more than that. I am the Mizzenpriestess of this village!”

The fire eaters looked unimpressed and continued to try to make the hammock move.

Jason grabbed Tessa and me each by the hand and started to rub out his own message. Somehow even his thumbs lisped. “Shit is about to go down, and much of it will be excruciatingly tedious negotiations for the proposed Fire Eater-TechnoPagan alliance.” He waggled his greasepaint-smeared eyebrows at Tessa. “Why don’t we conclude our ritual?”

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Before My Mind Melted Completely

  • by jenbetween the invisible man and the tramp
  • in response to the touching of tiny buttons
  • as if they were his own
  • I don’t know whether Stephanie
  • started pointing fingers

Tune in next time part 245                           Click Here for Earlier Installments

Before my mind melted completely I managed one coherent thought: those ninjas must have been covered in some sort of contact hallucinogen. I’d foolishly fallen right into their trap. The walls around me rippled like water.

When I came back to my senses I was bound hand and foot, and a good deal of drool was leaking from my mouth onto the floor where I lay. I seemed to be in the back of a van. There were two people in the seats up front. I kept my eyes closed and listened to their conversation.

“We’ll be lucky to get the full bounty on this asshole,” the driver said. He had a gravelly voice and a Contrarian accent. “And our expenses are through the roof. I mean, between the invisible man and the trampoline he bounced in on, we’ll be lucky to break even. That guy doesn’t come cheap.”

Who were these guys? I cracked my eyelids open and watched the portly guy in the passenger seat lean forward to fiddle with the radio. In response to the touching of tiny buttons, the vehicle filled with Contrarian hip hop. Portly guy knew his way around the sound system controls as if they were his own, suggesting that this van was not a rental.

Portly cranked the volume, and we drove on for hours. The music and the accents suggested my captors were working for Fleur. Or maybe her warlord father. I wasn’t sure which idea scared me more.

Much to my surprise, though, when the van stopped and the doors opened, I found myself face-to-face with Viscount Arlo. He looked at me with his one eye, and sniffed. “I don’t know whether Stephanie forgot to mention,” he said in his precise Svenborgian cadences, “or whether you’re utterly incompetent, but I wanted both him and Jason.”

The driver and Portly immediately started pointing fingers at each other, making excuses for their failure.

Arlo turned to me and sniffed again. He ran one hand back over his bald head. “I’ve been enjoying your wife’s company ever so much,” he said. “She’s currently my favorite lover. Would you like to see some pictures?”

That guy is such a dick.

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With Father Doling Out His Affections

  • by jento all a good night
  • a little round belly
  • then in a twinkling
  • for a long winter’s nap
  • and a twist of his head

Tune in next time part 243                           Click Here for Earlier Installments

With Father doling out his affections to all, a good night‘s sleep surely awaited him. But not me. I couldn’t get the images out of my head. Whenever my eyes closed I saw a little round belly covered by far, far too much wiry hair, and other things that I shudder to put into words. There was no way I could ally myself with a man who thought it was appropriate to engage in group sex in front of his son.

I pulled back the black velvet drapery panel and opened the door, and then, in a twinkling, radiant burst, the outside light flooded the room and nearly blinded me. It was a relief not to have to see the debauchery anymore. What I wouldn’t give for a father who would spend his days curled up on a sofa for a long winter’s nap, or watching game shows. Basically anything besides treason and exhibitionism.

In the corridor I surprised a ninja. A quick kick to his gut and a twist of his head put him out of commission for good. As I stood over him, listening in vain for his compatriots, I wondered if he worked for Father and the Svenborgian sisters, or if he was here on assignment. I decided I should get the hell out of there before anyone showed up to answer my question.

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I Hated To Turn Setsuko Down

  • by Kentlent a peculiar charm to his physiognomy
  • we just broke the internet
  • my knees drawn up to my chin
  • an almost unearthly air of wild anxiety
  • my limbs were refusing to perform

Tune in next time part 180                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

I hated to turn Setsuko down, even with so many good reasons. Not least of which being my total befuddlement as to the role anything I was looking at might play in lovemaking.

Also, there was the preternatural quiet all around us, which I knew only too well was the sound ninjas make. I glanced around, seeing no ninjas. Damn, just as I feared. By the time I turned back to Setsuko she was dressed again, now in a new outfit that hid her lovely curves. It made her look masculine, like a slender boy whose high cheekbones lent a peculiar charm to his physiognomy.

“I think we just broke the internet,” she said.

I didn’t understand, but following Setsuko’s nod I saw dozens of teenagers standing at the alley’s mouth, aiming their phones at us. Oh well, I thought, can’t be any worse than the Vine John posted of me trying to tap dance with my knees drawn up to my chin. Tessa and I used to make a lot of bets. Winning or losing hardly mattered to us, we only cared about an almost unearthly air of wild anxiety that imbues each wagering moment.

“Let’s not forget about the ninjas,” I whispered to Setsuko. The words had not completed the journey from my lips to her ear when I felt the sting of a blowdart. And suddenly it was every bit as bad as that tap-dance Vine, because just like back then my limbs were refusing to perform.

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At the Academy I’d Been a Member of the Ninja Defense League

  • by jenno self-respecting parrot
  • thousands of dollars of helicopter lessons
  • did not seem to match any of the furniture
  • sees nothing but fish-belly white skin
  • the possibility of saliva

Tune in next time part 179                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

At the Academy I’d been a member of the Ninja Defense League. Our name might make it sound like we defended ninjas, but I can assure you they need no help with that. No, we practiced techniques to defend ourselves from ninjas. One of the secrets that I learned was that, due to their near-total silence, ninjas have incredibly sensitive ears.

Before these alleyway foes could bundle us off to our dooms, I filled my lungs and let loose a deafening squawk. No self-respecting parrot would make half the noise I did over the next minute. I chirped and shrieked and hooted and whooped until every last ninja had fled the scene. Or at least until I no longer felt any hands on me.

I bent forward and shimmied my shoulders until the pillowcase fell off my head and fluttered to the ground.

Setsuko, tangled in a sheet, sat across from me, leaning against a pink brick wall. The ninjas were gone. Or so it seemed. Ninja camouflage is the best camouflage.

I used the rough corner of a bright pink brick to chew through the ziptie around my wrists, and then I was free. I wanted to rub my back across the bricks, like a bear scratching itself on a tree, to rid myself of my constrictive, itchy jumpsuit, but resisted.

I pulled the sheet off Setsuko’s green-haired head and found her smiling at me in a way that made my heart purr. She bounded to her feet and threw her bound wrists around my neck, pulling me into a kiss. It felt amazing, like finally getting to use thousands of dollars of helicopter lessons all at once in a daring escape.

She pulled me behind a heart-shaped dumpster and shed her clothes, a feat which she somehow managed without unbinding her wrists. I was surprised that the carpet, being green, matched the drapes. But I was more surprised that they did not seem to match any of the furniture.

Imagine a man who, upon undressing his lover, sees nothing but fish-belly white skin. That man was me, except that Setsuko’s skin was more of a mime-belly white. And her body parts weren’t strictly the ones I’d been led to expect.

Still, her face was lovely, and I was sorely tempted to take her up on her offer. The only things that stopped me were the likelihood of the ninjas returning, and the possibility of saliva from my tongue activating some psychotropic or narcotic properties in her heavy mime body makeup.

“Sorry,” I said. “I really have to find Tessa.”

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