I pulled into Redmond Junior High, narrowly avoiding the otter that had chosen a really odd place to build a dam. I quickly found a parking spot and after a brief moment to survey my surroundings, I walked into the main hall.
The corridors were clean and neat, a welcome change from the dank, spider-infested Junior High that I attended. Or, at least, the place I was sent to against my will when I was 12. Then again, I might have gotten lost and hung out in a deserted castle for two-years. It was hard to tell.
I quickly located the polling place, mainly by reading the 317 signs with arrows that said VOTE on them pointing towards the library. The library itself proved to be full of people, many of whom appeared to be voting, but that was an assumption I wasn’t ready to make. All too often, when faced with a group of people seemingly doing what they appeared to be doing, I had made what I thought was a logical conclusion. Well, logic was a two-headed mistress, where one head was foul and breathed fire and the other resembled Richard Nixon.
I eventually entered the library and joined the queue, though I kept a sharp eye on my surroundings. My alertness paid off, as I immediately spotted a ninja next to me in line. Seeing as he was garbed in his traditional black ninja attire, it might not have been the greatest deduction in history, but it was all I had.
I nodded at the ninja. “Yo.”
He bowed politely. “Iron Polack-sama.”
I watched him for a moment, ready for the usual ‘kiai’ that preceded an attack, but he merely turned back to wait in line.
“What,” I eventually asked. “No attacking?”
“Not today, furry-one,” he replied. “Today is for voting. Tomorrow, we try to kill you again.”
“Huh.” I folded my arms. “So, what’s your name?”
“Steve, oh Myopic Master.”
“You know who you’re gonna vote for?”
“Of course.” Steve produced a Voter’s Pamphlet, with a puff of ninja smoke. “All necessary preparations have been made.” He opened the booklet and showed me the notes that covered the inside.
“Nice.” I rolled up my sleeve, exposing a rippling forearm with a dense mass of ball-point pen writing upon it. “I got my notes right here.”
“Most . . . impressive.” He gestured behind me. “Your turn.”
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3 comments:
I wonder.. do the ninjas stop killing because of professional courtesy on political days like that? Or is to insulting to compare them to politicians? Back stabbing thugs that sneak up and destroy you... At least Ninjas are honest crooks.
Or maybe, they're just calling their agent to figure out if they were contracted for the guy formerly known as The Prez, or the guy who *is* known as The Prez.. and what is the time limits on that, anyhow? If they get him before January, is it all good, or do they need to go after the new guy come November, or no paycheck?
Clearly, there's more involved in the job of Ninja than I previously presumed.
Well, all employers are required by law to grant employees time off for voting, jury duty (imagine, ninja jurors of death and destruction!), and some other things that i am sure i missed.
Being good honest tax paying institutions of employment (because, why risk the extra attention from government institutions by trying to fly under the radar), i am sure your local regional Hurtz Ninja Rental, LLC will accordingly grant their highly trained semi-disposable black clad machines of pain deliverance their day off to participate in the exercising of their Constitutional Right!
Well, you gotta remember that ninjas are effected by the economy as well. People just don't have the money to pay hired killers. Assassinations are not immune to the stock market :)
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