Wednesday, August 16, 2017

Virgin Ninja (14)


   "Virgin Ninja (14)"

   Being in her forties, yet still acting as the rebelling adolescent, Joanna Blanc had hidden gifts, not merely the wisdom of fearing God, but a sense that Bobby McQuade didn't need the darker and more macabre aspects of training in Ninjutsu; on the contrary, he did need a Mr. Miyagi approach.  Waxing and waning like the Moon for a wondrous Wiccan, as long as altruistic and full of a sublime fairy's love minus the trickery, which happens sometimes.  Just ask Jack Burton about these types of things.
   So, Joanna decided to train Bobby gently and mildly, like a taste of acceptable salsa from New York City before going all Tex-Mex Hot on him.  So, she got a bale of hay for shuriken throwing.  An extra bokken to practice like a standing guard, always aware; however, no need for nunchaku due to a guy accidentally serving up his own scrotal injury, if he attempts to move the rice-beaters without Peter Pan faith.
   But beyond the poetry of learning defense, there are always the tears of Christ.  A truthful passion for mercy.  As the shortest verse in the Bible (Book of Ages) goes:  "Jesus wept."  

Tuesday, August 15, 2017

Virgin Ninja (13)

   
   "Virgin Ninja (13)"
   
   Bobby McQuade was Black Irish--looked like a damn gypsy, and with those hazel eyes, glowing a bit; indeed, some true illuminated-sparkle there, like a promised rainbow sending empathy, not the equality of weird--hell boy, weird will always be weird, and you can't change that shit.
   Try being poor.  Christ was right to tell Saint Peter:  "Times are gonna be tough dude."
   But as Bobby flicked off the noise on his Direct Current radio, being the retro pioneer of a genesis long gone exodus, he didn't mind Mexicans.  Women first.  No children, or men.  Send the sexy Mexican women in.  Screw over the pond.  Mexicans and Canadians are right here--Russians too, close to Alaska.  Let our neighbors, at least their hot women--let them in.  Women don't shoot up malls.  These were just Bobby's, and Bobby's alone opinions.  Moreover, all he really knew was how to be a janitor, and dream of a ninja girl, yet he did not yet know that she was a ninja--of course, the art of a cunning shinobi.  

SJWs Have Ruined Star Wars

Close the blast doors! Open the blast doors!

Virgin Ninja (12)

   
   "Virgin Ninja (12)"

   Joanna Blanc was in the Confessional Booth, getting the Sacrament of Reconciliation, which seemed necessary due to her dove-like loins loving the idea of Bobby McQuade's renegade spirit gelling with her own.

JOANNA
Bless me Father for I have sinned.  You don't have your cell phone turned on, do you?

FATHER
Joanna--I know it's you and your daring humor.  Still doing good, except for the cracking skulls part and all?

JOANNA
I haven't cracked any skulls lately Father.  Not since my last Confession.  This has to do with a guy.  A nice guy.  A poor guy.  A gentleman.  Very cool eyes.  Very humble.  Part of the family, as Jesus Himself might say.

FATHER
Are you having romantic feelings for him, after all your years of celibacy?

JOANNA
Not images.  Just a yearning to embrace him.  But not in brotherly fashion, but as a partner.  

FATHER
God will always love you.  Pray for the Holy Trinity to have mercy on you, and ask the Virgin Mary to pray for you, and Saint Joseph's protection; next, move slowly, and do things properly, so as not to offend the Church; moreover, not offend yourself, for you are an appendage of the Church.

JOANNA
I understand.

FATHER
One Our Father; plus, one Hail Mary.  Now, say your Act of Contrition.

   
   The ritual of mystic ceremony continued, and Joanna was feeling better; still, she was definitely crushing on Bobby McQuade--the simple janitor, the serf.  

Monday, August 14, 2017

Virgin Ninja (11)

   
   "Virgin Ninja (11)"
   
   Some may think it pathetically plain--Bobby McQuade's life.  Never got out of the rural aspects of it all, into the Big City, like a Country/Pop star crafting their own music and drinking Coca-Cola; however, Bobby did his job, pulling a locker apart at the junior high he worked at as a janitor, for some kid who'd lost the combination, and the wrench was tired my friend, after that challenge of tool versus machine, our problem when androids walk the Earth, if they are not already doing so--even in the mind of a mental patient at the highest level of government clearance--never can tell.  You think 60 MINUTES showcases all of the government's modern toys?  Perhaps.
   But Bobby just used mops and brooms, in his desert-brown fatigues of poverty, modestly smiling, and always with a bit of chaw underneath that smooth grin; next, driving back to his non- wireless and television free shanty save an old transistor radio powered by Direct Current, where he would read antiquated Plastic Man comic books he had collected as a kid and listen to NPR, having rejected Reed Richards due to Mister Fantastic's uncanny ability of repairing and rebuilding advanced alien technology; plus, Plastic Man had a sense of humor about himself.  But little did Bobby McQuade know:  Soon he was gonna learn the stealth-lathered and secret ways of the ninja.