When I was a child there was nothing I wanted more than to be a real-life ninja. It was all I could think about. Every single year for Halloween I would dress up like a ninja, but if it was up to me that’s what I would have worn every day. Sure, I would have gotten made fun of in school, but that was already going on anyways. Perhaps if I could have struck them with a little bit of fear (and my Nerf-style nun-chucks) I would have gotten respect and gone on to do great things as an adult, like saving lives and creeping around in shadows. Not to mention there would probably be a fifth ninja turtle named “Joshatello”.
I also really wanted to grow up to be Colt from the original 3 Ninjas movie… Until I realized that we were the same age and that’s when I started hating myself. Before I got to that depressing realization, though, I started taking Tae Kwon Do classes so I could start preparing for my career as an ass kicker. What else was going to pay my bills when I grew up? Making forts out of leaves or snow? Of course not, what would I do with the other half of my year? Rain and sun forts aren’t big ticket items, in fact, they don’t even exist.
I’ve said this a million times before, but I was a really shy little kid, so the idea of being in a room surrounded by grunting men standing in awkward positions and thrusting their fists wasn’t exactly my idea of a good time. I pushed through it, though, so I could eventually learn enough moves so I could grunt in a room by myself. Before I knew it I was in the mix, punching, kicking, doing somersaults, you know, manly stuff. I had perfect form while fighting air.
Eventually I got to the point where I was allowed to “spar” other people, which is basically fight dancing. You could do elaborate moves and stuff, but you weren’t really allowed to make full contact… Or so I thought. One night I was forced to spar one of these old men who takes their hobby far too seriously. He had to have been in his 50′s and I was 12. This mother fucker was making nearly full contact and kicking my ass. Looking back I think he was a pedophile and this was the only way he could touch little boys without getting arrested.
So that whole experience took me down a notch. From there it was just a downward spiral of my dreams. A few weeks later I failed to break a board with my hands in front of everyone. I had to use my feet, like a “pussy fag”. Yes, someone actually called me that. I thought it was an insult at the time, but looking back I think that just means that I’m straight. Then a few weeks after that I broke my toe while fighting a goddamn punching bag. My head just wasn’t in it anymore and I was forced to retire after getting all the way to my brown belt (that’s one under black, ladies).
From there my ninja obsession dwindled, which is a shame because I was getting very close to being ninja-like. Or, I was very close to being the asshole you see on the news who owns a samurai sword and then uses it to chop his neighbor’s head off because his dog shit on my lawn. Looking back, it was a gamble I should have taken.
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