Feed the Taco

I spent the most of yesterday helping move my ninja buddy out of his old place. He’d recently fallen on some hard times with all the current war stuff going on. Some people may say an open war should really help a ninja out and give him tons of work. Unfortunately for him, most of the fighting and assassinations are taking place in the Middle East and Bob isn’t really into hot weather. Also, all he wears is black and that isn’t a great camouflage for a desert landscape. In addition to that, the government doesn’t hire “Free Lance” work these days. Weird, an organization that is famed for crushing unions and worker revolts like suffocating worms has a very tight and exclusive labor organization with some wicked job protection. The other side of the job market isn’t much better, most of their jobs involve blowing yourself up. Not a tempting job offer.

We had to load up the truck and take his stuff to his mom’s basement. I’ve helped guys move back home before, but none of them seemed as crashed as one who used to take life for a living. After the 8^th box of shuriken I was getting sick of carrying throwing stars.

”Look Bob, your mom’s basement can’t hold all this garbage. And that is what this box is filled with, garbage. Seriously dude, you need to watch some ‘Clean Sweep’ and organize this junk. How many ninja actually use 8 giant boxes of ninja stars?”

Bob was pretty upset, telling me how I didn’t know anything about his line of work and a “philosopher-poet” had no right to criticize anyone with a real profession. I learned a valuable lesson after this, telling someone you have more right to criticize their profession because they can’t find a job in it, when that profession is a ninja and he’s helping you carry a large box filled with tools of death is a bad idea. Long story short, he lost his security deposit.

Man, I hate helping people move.