Real Ultimate Power (9 page)

 

My neighbor has a brown dog. It's HUGE. One time, I was mowing the lawn and the dog just started running at me, but it couldn't get me because of the fence. I turned off the mower and stared at the dog. Sweat popped out of my hair and I didn't even blink. The dog didn't say a word, and then it ran back toward the neighbor's house and busted through the screen door and the people inside started squealing really hard. I knew right then that I had the power to control most brown dogs. After that, I would search for them everywhere. And when I found one, I would stare at it for as long as it took. Then they'd go FRIGG'N NUTS. They'd start spitting and rolling around the yard. And I would jump back on my bike screaming and laughing 'cause nobody would even know what happened. Dog owners would run out of their homes almost crying because their pets were so rambunctious. Their feelings of rest and relaxation from controlling their pets were lost in an explosion of chew toys and screen doors. Their lives were all changed for the better/worse because of
me
.

 

My parents are divorced and Mom cooks brownies all the time to make up for it. But one night, she cooked a big batch because Dad came over earlier when she wasn't home and took two lamps that were actually hers. Mom set the brownies on top of the oven and said I couldn't eat ANY for at least
ten minutes.
They were hot enough to burn an adult, she said. But as soon she left, I grabbed one and stuffed it in my face. But my tongue didn't burn! That's when I knew I had the power to eat super-hot food. Later that night, I went to bed without any argument and I couldn't stop kicking my feet and snorting, thinking about all the ways I could use this badass power.

 

Dad got me this new alarm clock so he doesn't have to deal with me in the morning. He says he doesn't want to go to work angry—I understand where he's coming from. I was so excited that I set up the clock in my room to practice before Sunday night. I plugged the clock in and turned it over and there was this weird button on the back. I pressed it and the clock went crazy. The numbers started going lower and my hair was blown backwards. Then I looked at the clock and it read that it was twenty-three minutes ago. And I realized, right then, that I had the power to time travel. I experimented a little bit, even went back in time a couple minutes, but that got boring. So I put on a sweater and got ready to go into the future. But as I was holding in the button to go forward, I looked down, and saw a little wrinkle form on my knuckle. So I slammed the back button real quick, because I knew I wasn't ready for pubes or menopause or anything like that.

 

Imagine if regular people had the power
¹¹¹
ninjas
¹¹²
have.
¹¹³

Now, stop.
¹¹⁴
NOW,
¹¹⁵
continue
¹¹⁶
thinking
¹¹⁷
about
¹¹⁸
how
¹¹⁸
sweet
¹¹⁹
ninjas
¹²⁰
are.
¹²¹

I'd be just sitting in school and the teacher would be like, “Learn this stuff, NOW.” But as she would point back at the chalkboard, there'd be some rumbling and shaking. Bricks would fall all over the place and a crazy spider monster would bust through the wall. The spider monster would look at everybody in the class and the kids would be screaming and hiding behind tables in the back of the room, except me. I'd still be sitting at my desk, trying to ignore all the commotion and finish my homework. Then the monster would pick me out of all those kids and say, “YOU,” and point right at me, “YOU ARE THE CHOSEN ONE!” And all the kids would be like, “Who is that guy?” Then I would look annoyed and start to float, and then I'd fly out the window, making the monster chase me and I'd save EVERYONE. Then, the next day, I'd come back to school, acting like nothing happened, and go to class, but I'd have a huge scar on my leg. And they'd be like, “Dude, who are you? What happened to your leg?” And I'd just look over at the girls and wink.

I'd be on this soccer team that's losing. And everybody is laughing their asses off about how bad we are. I tell my team not to worry, because I've got something pretty sweet planned, and they'd say, “Dude, you gotta help us out. If we lose this game, we're dead.” And then ten minutes before recess is over, I'd pull out this remote control from my backpack and press a button. Then a futuristic car would float down from the sky, and a robot in soccer shorts would jump out right before the car landed on several assholes. The robot would run onto the field and start playing, hard. It would shoot the ball from one goal post all the way into the enemy's goal. Everybody's mouths would drop open, except mine, because the robot belonged to me. Needless to say, we would win the game easily—by about a trillion-billion points. Everybody outside would run on the field to ask me questions, but I'd just be looking over at the robot and it would be looking at me. Then I'd push all the kids aside. And we would walk toward each other, slowly. Then, as the robot picked me up and held me in its arms, I'd look at the girls and wink.

I'd just be sitting out at the bus stop, and out of nowhere this black Cadillac would pull up and a super old man would have some toys in the back seat. “Your mother told me to give you a ride to school!” he'd say. So I would crawl in back seat, and he'd take me to a secret laboratory near the Earth's core where he would give me the power to spit acid. Then he would drop me off at school and I'd say, “Thanks for the ride to school!” And we'd both laugh for a couple minutes. Then I'd slam the door, hard. And everybody would think that I got dropped off and none of that other stuff happened. Then, during lunchtime, a fire would break loose and kids would be running around, burning. I would then scream to all the lunch kids, “Yo, let's go!” and everybody would follow to me to the gymnasium. But then, a bunch of bricks would fall near the exit and some kid would say, “Nice going.” But I would pretend I didn't hear him. And then the girls would start screaming hard and I'd let them keep doing it for a little while, 'cause I'd like it at first. But after a couple minutes I'd be like, “Ladies, chill. I'll get us out, today.” Then I would turn around and start spitting acid all over the wall near the basketball hoops and it would crumble, because of chemistry. Then the girls would get on my back and I'd run out of the building, saving them. And then I'd drag them back behind the soccer field and make love to them as the firemen rescued the rest of the kids.

Apparently, there was this ninja who was hanging out with some kid. They played basketball and ate dinner together. One day the kid was like, “Do you want to hear something that will mess up your life?”

The ninja was like, “What are you talking about?”

“A real live ghost story,” said the kid.

“O.K.,” said the ninja.

Then the kid began, “These two buddies were eating tacos together one night at a bar and it was raining really hard outside. They were just talking. Then all of a sudden, there was a noise, like a gurgle or squirt. The buddies were like, ‘What the heck is that?' And guess what ... it happened again! They were both completely freaked out. One buddy couldn't even finish his meal. They briefly looked around the bar for clues, but they never found out what it was. And both buddies went home scared to death.”

 

After hearing the ghost story, the ninja was so scared that he grabbed the kid and spanked him until both parties squirted urine.

In some other state, there were some basketball players hanging out in the forest after a big game. One player said, “This forest reminds me of some scary stuff I heard.” And the other said, “What happened?” And he said, “Well, these two buddies, like you and I, were hanging out, just like now, and out of nowhere they heard something. But since they were big, like you and me, they didn't get scared. Apparently, the noise was coming from behind an old door. Together, with their hands intertwined, the buddies slowly opened the door. Then BOOM! There was a grown up standing RIGHT THERE. Then it turned around and talked. But the buddies couldn't understand a thing it said, because it had the voice of a teeny tiny baby! ‘Holy crap!' said one buddy. ‘Frigg'n run!' And they did.”

 

After hearing the story, one basketball player said, “Wow!” Needless to say, a ninja over-heard the entire thing and got pretty scared/mad. The ninja didn't understand the feelings inside him and went berserk. (This is common for ninjas.) In conclusion, the players were speechless when they got their asses beat.

In some cave chalk full of hippos, there was this ninja. All the hippos gathered for a ghost story. The ninja began with a warning, “If any hippo here cannot handle this type of crap, I suggest you leave right now.” And some actually did. Then the ninja began. “Alright, listen. These kids were just goofing around once on the playground: sports and talking and stuff. Nobody wanted any trouble, even the bullies. Well, there was this crackle and everybody looked up. Something shiny. Then this UFO flopped on the soccer field. One kid was like, What the heck? And then its side door busted open, and fog creamed out. The assistant principle freaked out and tripped, spilling his guts on a picnic table. Nobody knew anything about anything. Then there was this rolling sound that got louder and louder and quieter and finally louder. Out of the UFO popped this giant can. It rolled past the soccer field and hit a pole. By the time the kids realized it was a keg of beer, the UFO zapped into space. Well, guess what, somebody brought a radio and turned it on loud. Then one kid grabbed Dixie cups from her duffel bag. Everybody went bananas in a good way and partied, hard. Little was understood that day, but, boy, did those kids party.”

 

The ninja, having scared himself, beat his own ass in a paradoxical way. It was quite confusing for the hippos. But they were mature—they didn't try to make sense out of nonsense. The hippos moved on, accepting those things they could not change and surrounding themselves with only positive energy. By not defining what happened that day or their relation to it, they never limited their understanding, and they never limited themselves.

Dear anybody who reads my crap,

 

I'll kill you. No joke.

 

—A REAL ninja

 

 

Dear Diary,

 

You're the only one I can share my coolest thoughts with. Nobody I know understands Total Sweetness—so I can never reveal myself. Everybody thinks that I'm a crazy maniac killer/pimp, but deep in my catacombs, I'm really sensitive about hot babes. I like animals. When people call me names, I feel emotions. I'm a good listener. And I want my buddies to be happy, even though they don't care about my feelings sometimes. There is a bunch of love inside me, but I can only express it through cutting off heads. People just don't understand the pressure that pressures me—it's depressing. I'm a mammal without a cause! I'm a self-caused-hot-babe-lover that everybody fears for no reason except that I'll beat their ass. I'm really that simple. And nobody will take the time to listen. But I'll listen to them, and they'll talk all damn day. They never ask me any questions. And I have so much to say about snowballs, forts, spaceships, and stuff like that. It's pretty lonely being a ninja. Getting so pumped all the time can be a real turnoff for friends or babes. It's like they've never been excited about anything. I'll be flipping out, and someone will be like, “Who invited that guy?” And I'll be like, “Why does it matter?” And they'll be like, “Well, I just wanted to know for personal reasons.” And I'll be like, “Yeah, right.” Can you believe it? Sometimes I just feel like giving up and following rules like a regular human. But you know what? That's a bunch of BULLCRAP! I'm a ninja! And my purpose is to flip out and kill people. So fuck you, diary! I'll beat your ass, too!

 

 

In Japanese,
Mizu no Kokoro
means “a mind like water,” which means that everyone should keep his mind still and calm, like a lonely pond. O.K., that sounds nice, but what if somebody throws a giant rock in the pond and the water goes nuts and the fish start screaming? Then what? I tried to find myself today. It all started earlier today when I killed this guy. I walked up behind him and cut his head off, but I didn't look at his face. Then I thought I might have killed the wrong guy, and I got super scared. I tried to set the head back on, but it kept sliding off. After a couple minutes, it finally stayed, but it still looked weird. I thought,
why do I do this to myself? Do I really need this in my life? Wouldn't it be nice to get a normal job like everybody else and have a bunch of friends who like me because I'm nice
? I could go to plays and act courteous and talk about the news, and I would try to make people feel comfortable by not killing them. And after eighty years, all these friends would be at my deathbed staring at me, and I'd stare right back and I'd think about all the work it took to make them like me. Then someone would ask, “What's your dying wish, mon ami?” And then I'd whisper something real quiet. Everybody would look at each other and then bend down closer to hear. Then, right when they were all in place, I'd say “I love ...” and I'd reach my hands around them and start raking my teeth across their faces, and I'd be laughing and laughing. Then I'd die in peace. I'm not a bad person, though. It's just that people don't think I have any boundaries, but I actually have a lot. I just don't brag about it every chance I get. I keep a lot of stuff inside, but I always find more room. It's like my heart is hollow like a basketball, minus the air. Maybe someday I'll be able to find someone like me.

 

 

Dear Diary,

 

I'm supposed to kill somebody today, but I think I'll just sleep in. Afternoon comes and I'm still a little drowsy, but I get up anyway. I look out the window and wonder about regular kids, what they're doing, if they know about people like me. I hope so. Sometimes, I pretend that I have a son that I can hang out with—you know, like buddies. If I had a real son, we could spend family time together killing people in the park, as we hold hands, together, like father and son. Then we could go to the arcade, and I could give him all the quarters I stole from mall wishing wells. And after that, we'd run through parks with masks on, hitting people and flipping over picnic tables, and later we'd watch R-rated movies and play video games and cuss ALL NIGHT LONG. Whatever HE wants! We'd kill anybody that even looked at us. And I could teach him all my tricks and secrets. And ... one day he will grow up to kill people on his own and be a real ninja, like his father. I love you so much, mystery son, wherever you are.