The Great White-Trash Ninja - Part III

The training was brutal, but the test was still to come. Becoming a hired assassin in a rural community is difficult, compound that with the fact that I was nine, and it is nearly impossible. My trials must therefore be manufactured in the form of an obstacle course and a night time run through “The Gauntlet”.

To prepare for the trials I had to wear appropriate Ninja clothing. I picked my darkest pajamas, my mother’s robe belt, and a dark pillowcase with a slit cut for my eyes as a headdress.

The course consisted of sprinting, undetected past the cows, scaling the wall of the barn, and diving into the upper door. You must land on the stack of hay and then get to the walls quickly. There was a railing that went along the wall that one must shimmy across until you got to the window on the other side of the barn. Once you exit the barn, you had to get to the fence without touching the ground and sprint along the upper rail. A fall, would mean failure, if a cow turned its head, you’re done.

At the end of the fence there was a ditch that had to be cleared with a single jump. At this point you would be exactly behind the next door neighbor’s house. From there you had to move, undetected by the neighbors, through their trees, back to our back yard. The weapons were waiting, along with several cardboard foes. First, the bow. My single arrow had to hit the target fatally and then you would need to dash at the dying cardboard and finish it with the second weapon of your choosing. You know the Nunchaku was my choice to finish the job. You would then turn and throw your stars and spikes at a second enemy and then use the blowgun on the third. Every shot had to be true.

I will spare you the drama; I passed the course in record time. There were a few places that tested my skill to their very limit, but the training had paid off. I don’t believe any Ninja since has done as well. The course record will remain mine, and mine alone.

The Gauntlet was next. We had a concrete breezeway on the side of our house that became “The Guantlet”. The night was black as pitch and my brothers went out first to set booby-traps for me. Boxes, sticks, trip wires, whatever were fair game. My job, to get through alive. They had blow guns and paper stars and all I had were my wits and my training.

I sprinted through jumping and dodging, calculating and assessing. I dodged most but took some hits too. I darted for the exit door, it was just in reach. I would barrel through and down the two steps to my well deserved victory. In my elation, I lost focus and missed the tiny, invisible, razor wire that my brothers had placed at ankle level across the exit doorframe. I hit it and flew forward, down the steps skinning my hands and knees in a bloody disappointment. Who the hell puts a trip wire in front of steps…in the dark? I digress. I was about to give in to the pain when I remembered my training, controlled my thoughts and pain, and stood up with honor. I was victorious, I was still alive and I was on the other side of “The Guantlet”.

Now that I was a Ninja, I could put my weapons in their rightful place. Every one of them was hung on the wall next to my bed. A couple of Asian bandanas were tacked up as well to emphasize my new roots. No need to keep them a secret. I had earned them.

The tests were difficult but something special got me through. I repeated a song in my head when things got tough, “You’re the best, around. Nothings gonna ever keep you down”. It worked for Ralph Macchio, and it worked for me. I was nine. I was a Ninja.