Tuesday, September 26, 2006

...ooops let's see you try being a new Dad.

Dear NinjaSon,

Ok so by the time you are reading this I am dead and so you can not get mad at me for the sins of my past. And you especially should not get mad at me about the story behind that funny scar you have on your stommy. This is actually a good lesson to learn about flexibility and following the curves in the road of life.

So as you know we are a family of Ninja. We come from a long line of Ninja tracing back to feudal Manhattan. The men of the family have been stone cold assassins of deadly death and up until the 1960's the women of the family have been thieves or spies or homemakers. Well since the 60's there have been great strides made in Women Ninja and your NinjaMom, bless her heart, was a very capable and deadly Ninja. When you were born we had to decide who was going to Ninja and who was going to stay at home with you. I was a bit stubborn and insisted I needed to earn the family natto. Your mother was kind enough to let me have my stubborn way, plus while she was pregnant her kill rate went way down. If it wasn't for all the people she took out in the delivery room she would have had a miserable season. She was a natural born mother and I could not have wished a better home for you.

Well one day she got a little sick and could not care for you and so I decided that watching a NinjaBaby couldn't be that hard and plus it was take-your-son-to-work-week and so I took you on a few assignments. Like a good NinjaBaby, you were as silent as man five weeks dead and the only time you made a peep was when we jumped down more than three stories, and then you would laugh your little ninja head off. So the day was going well and we were on our last assignment on the south of the island and of course I had to stop and take a picture of you riding the giant bronze water buffalo on Wall Street.

Anyway we were supposed to take out an entire boardroom full of executives and so we were in the ventilation system of the building feeling each footstep below us to locate each board member. Once I had a good count I dropped down and started tossing a few shuriken left-handed because I needed to work on my fakie technique. And somewhere into my 27th or 28th shuriken all of a sudden seventeen more Ninja drop in. Now whoever hired me made the biggest beginner mistake of thinking that if one Ninja was good, seventeen could only be better. Big stupid fucking mistake.

Let me say this only once: Ninja are like saffron, a little goes a long way.

So what happens when you hire seventeen Ninja to kill one tiny little boardroom full of people. A pissing contest, that's what happens. Ninja trying to out-ninja everybody. One Ninja killing with just his ears. Another Ninja killing while walking on his hands only. One Ninja B-Boy killing while pop-locking with Pony sneakers on and everything. It was retarded nut-to-butt packed with Ninjas and dead people. We were so outta there. As I stood on the window sill about to make my exit I had a funny feeling as I stepped into the city air. A rogue Ninja was there actually to take me out and launched a few shuriken as I left the building. I immediately rotated in mid-flight and instinctively shielded my vital bits. When I hit the ground I realized the horror of my actions. I shielded my vital bits with you. Yes I know, I am a monster, I am a stupid stupid Ninja, I am a bad NinjaDad and you are probably in therapy right now talking about how bad of a father I was, but it was my first day as a primary caretaker and new Dads sometimes have to learn things the hard way. Well anyway your NinjaMom had stuffed your Bjorn with lots of black lacquer protective rods because we have a TON of black lacquer everything thanks to the 1980's, and fortunately when I held you up as a human shield (only by instinct remember, not on purpose) as I flew through that window, the shuriken where slowed by all that black lacquer. I like to think that the shuriken being Manhattan shuriken were so appalled that they were about to be embedded in remnants of 80's furniture they actually tried to reverse course and fly back to the Ninja that sent them. Well to make a long story short you were non-fatally hit by only one shuriken that went through some black lacquer before reaching your stommy and so it made just a small scratch. I told your NinjaMom that you were playing with my tanto while going down the slide at the park so that she wouldn't get mad at me for using you as a shield (once again, just to recap, very very sorry about that).

So the moral of the story is the fact that sometimes in life we are faced with new challenges. And being a new Dad is not always as easy as burning down thirteen villages in one night (*cough*ricedaddies*cough*) the only thing we can ask ourselves is to do our very NinjaBest. And my true role my Son, is to help you learn from my mistakes so that our errors are not passed down from generation to generation. When you become a NinjaDad, remember to not use your children as shields when you are attacked by rogue Ninja pretending to be one of the guys. This is bad. And also, never throw away old furniture just because it is passe. Everything comes back into fashion eventually. Well everything except those stupid snow Ninja outfits. I can't believe I used to wear that.


Post a Comment

<< Home