A Ninja Named Charlie

Once upon a time, there was a boat. It was a boat full of... ah... ninjas. We'll go with that. And the ninjas all liked to wear Hawaiian shirts and drink cappuccino all the time. Well, except one. His name was Charlie. Charlie the Ninja (His last name WAS Jones, but he changed it to "the Ninja" because no one would hire him. I mean, come on! What kind of surname is that for a ninja?)

Charlie never wore Hawaiian shirts. He thought they looked silly. He would always decorate himself from head to toe in black. All the other ninjas would laugh at poor Charlie for it. They would yell, "Shut up, you emo kid!" Charlie tried to tell them that Goths are the ones who wear black, but they would just yell, "Shut up, you emo kid!" So then Charlie would try to tell them that Goths are the ones who wear black, but they would yell, "Shut up, you emo kid!" If they weren't careful this could go on for hours.

And Charlie didn't like the taste of cappuccino. He preferred his coffee the way he preferred his clothing: completely black and full of kittens. Er, wait no. Just black. My bad.

Every night Charlie would go to sleep and dream of how one day he would be the greatest ninja of them all. He would show everyone how to ninja in the night! They would see. Then he would dream about how once he became the Master Ninja, he would use his new-found immunity to kill anyone who had ever made fun of him or wore a Hawaiian shirt or drank cappuccino or put kittens in their coffee. Oh yes. He would sneak into their rooms at night, and slit their throats, feeling the wet crimson blood splatter on his face as his victim choked out their final breath. He would cut their bodies into bite-sized pieces and feed them to his hamster. He would- at this point his alarm clock would never fail to wake him. And every day he would get up and do his morning ninja exercises to keep himself sharp. Usually Tae Bo.

But one day, Charlie woke up and noticed something different. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, so he got out of bed. That way he could reach farther. Sure enough, he could now put his finger on it. He quickly moved his finger however, as the Different Thing was really, really, really hot. He stared at it for a few minutes. Where did it come from? Where did it go? Where did it come from?

"Cotton-eye Joe" was written on the side, just beside an inscription that read, "Wassup, brah?" Oddly enough, Charlie was thoroughly confused. He walked around the Different Thing a few times. It sat there. He jumped over it. It sat there. He kicked it. It moved slightly.

Charlie started to become frustrated. It was taking up the space that he usually used for his Tae Bo routine. How could he be at peak performance without his Tae Bo exercises? I mean, Tae Bo was the ultimate form of exercise. Anything other than Tae Bo was inferior and could be safely disregarded. Only with the moves featured in Tae Bo could Charlie ever hope to remain an effective assassin. Tae Bo was absolutely necessary! Tae Bo!

Charlie began to grow tired of the Different Thing. He stared at it in an attempt to make it uncomfortable and leave, but nothing happened. He tried giving it cookies and sending it on its way, but it wouldn't take the cookies. The same thing happened when he tried cupcakes, muffins, banana bread, calzones, popcorn, Hot Tamale candies, toffee, peanut brittle, a nice soufflé... How could it not like his soufflé? Now Charlie's feelings were hurt. Charlie went into his bathroom to cry.

He took a bar of soap and wrote this on the mirror: "I thought you and I loved each other DT. I don't know how you could do this to me. I'm running away. Away from our love, away from our house, away from our kids, and... away from you. I don't love you anymore DT. I'm sorry. Goodbye."

With this, Charlie ran to the kitchen and turned the gas on. He rigged the door so that the minute anyone tried to leave, it would blow the entire place up. Then he crawled out the kitchen window and moved on in his life.

Now Charlie is a swash-buckling buccaneer. He wears Hawaiian shirts all the time and drinks cappuccino. All the other pirates who all wear black only and drink their coffee black with kittens make fun of him and yell, "Yarr, shut yer trap Goth kid." Charlie tries to tell them that Goths wear all black, but they just yell, "Yarr, shut yer trap Goth kid." Charlie tries to tell them that Goths wear all black, but they just yell, "Yarr shut yer trap Goth kid." If they're not careful, this goes on for hours.

The Different Thing didn't move for a very long time. Not until the day the Landlord came and tried to inspect the house.