Yak Herding: A Career for Everyone

The other evening I was home polishing my collection of antique, woolen undergarments (yes, they’re very old) when someone knocked at my door. Now, this has happened a couple times since I moved. Usually it’s a neighbor wanting to introduce him or herself or politely ask if I could please stop putting zombie heads in the recycle bin.

NOTE: If zombies aren’t recyclable, then I don’t know what is. Seriously, the bin says ‘All recyclables except for glass.’ Ergo, zombie heads go in there. If it was a glass zombie head, obviously it would not.

I opened the door and dropped the antique woolen thong I was holding, which clanged ominously on the tile.

It was a ninja.

I thought fast. He had a sack of some kind and was raising it towards me. I didn’t know what was in it, mayhap sleeping powder or Bob Hope’s remains, but I knew it would be bad. Now, I was in a real pickle. I normally would have had my mace at hand, but it was in the shop (Bob’s Macery and Bludgetorium, tell them I sent you).

So I grabbed the nearest thing at hand: a sock filled with dried hedgehog poop (long story) and commenced to smite.

Strangely enough, the ninja screamed and started to run away. I thought this was a touch unusual, but I took advantage of the situation to chase him down the street, thwacking him as I went. The running was helping, by-the-by, as I easily kept up.
It was then that the situation got strange. The ninjas ran up to a woman and began crying. Said woman, whom I gathered to be the ninja’s mother, seemed upset which was completely understandable.

I calmed her down and showed her my official Ninja Fighting ID. I then explained to her that ninjitsu, if caught early, was perfectly curable. All she had to do was throw away all her son’s ninja gear and if she caught him with any more, just to administer several solid whacks with a rolled-up newspaper while saying ‘No!’ in a firm voice.

She kept insisting that it was just a costume, but I reiterated that there was nothing to be ashamed of. Many young men become enamored with the ninja lifestyle and seek the path of the shinobi. However, with firm guidance and a ready supply of rolled-up newspapers, her son could be turned to more socially acceptable professions, like necromancy or yak herding. I even gave her a pamphlet: Yak Herding: A Career for Everyone (yes, I always carry one).

At this point, the woman thanked me and began edging away, dragging her son along with her. It was a good moment. I had turned an impressionable young man away from the shadow arts and given him a new lease on life. I even whistled as I walked back to my apartment, passing two little girls dressed like princesses, a boy in a Captain America outfit, as well as an astronaut and a pirate.

Y’know, on reflection, it’s kind of odd that there were so many kids dressed in costumes. And all of them were carrying bags.

Oh well, at least they weren’t ninjas.

Cheers,
-Jason