There are Consequences to Calling Yourself a Ninja

Beth, a self-proclaimed Social Media Ninja, stopped checking her feeds long enough to look at the rectangular package she had received earlier that day. She opened the box to see a finely polished wooden box. Opening the lid, she saw a scroll, which she then laid out on her desk.

Here is what she read:

“My name is Hattori Hanzo and this is a formal challenge. I am a true ninja, trained in ancient techniques of stealth-based martial arts and assassination. It is my mission to restore the honor of the ninja title by taking the life of all of those who use it in vain.

I will come for you at a time and place of my choosing. Then, we shall see who is really worthy of calling themselves a ninja.”

Quickly, Beth pulled out her phone to take a picture of the scroll. Then, posted it on Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook with the message, “Well, it looks like I was invited to take the #NinjaChallenge. #soexcited.” She then went back to checking her feeds, unaware of the real danger she faced.

Later that week, Beth was walking to her car in the parking lot of the restaurant where she just had lunch. Ever the multi-tasker, she chose the short walk to tweet about the amazing new restaurant she tried and mention the fabulous people who ate with her.

Suddenly, her thumb stopped moving. In fact, she now found her entire right arm was paralyzed. Looking up, she saw a blur of black fabric.

In moves too fast to follow, the ninja went about touching the 140 pressure points on the human body that—when used together—caused instant death.

*****

Bradley, the Copywriting Ninja, rolled his chair away from his keyboard and yawned. He was working on perfecting a headline for two hours now and was sure his office mates were long gone by now.

He glanced at the box containing the scroll he received earlier that day. It had inspired a great idea for a blog he was planning to write as soon as he caught up on his current projects.

He stood up to stretch and was surprised to see Jeff was still there, quietly working in the cubicle next to him. But wait a minute, didn’t Jeff have a beard and wasn’t Jeff non-Asian.

In a puff of smoke, “fake Jeff” disappeared. Only to reappear twenty feet away, dressed in full black ninja garb, holding a very sharp looking sai in each hand.

“Wait a minute,” Bradley pleaded. “Can’t you give me a chance. Teach me something to defend myself. Like, how do YOU ninja?”

In two quick steps, the ninja covered the distance and thrust a sai into Bradley’s throat before he could get the chance to try turning another noun into a verb.

*****

Eric, the Graphic Design Ninja, sat in a coffee shop thinking about the box of inspiration he had received earlier in the week.

He didn’t pay attention to the words themselves on the scroll, but he was very fascinated by the stylish handwriting that formed them. It was perfect for the current logo he was working on. He also scanned the back of the scroll to copy its interesting texture.

Eric took another sip of his coffee, woke up his laptop, and got back to work layering his new texture with another for the background of a poster.

Suddenly, there was a loud “thwack” as a shuriken lodged itself into his Wacom tablet—missing his fingers by mere inches.

Startled, he looked up to see the ninja crouched on top of the table next to him. He turned, then looked the ninja up and down. “I really dig those shoes,” Eric thought, before three more shurikens sunk into his chest and he slumped lifelessly into his chair.

*****

The ninja stood in line at the FedEx Office store, holding another package containing a scroll in a wooden box. This one was on its way to a programmer working in an office twelve blocks away.

He thought back to the man he met as a child that had inspired his mission. The man was a wizard, and it was his successful eradication of those who misused the title of wizard that gave the ninja the confidence he needed begin his own quest for revenge.