A Christmas Tale

I write adult stories for adult readers.

My mailing list: http://eepurl.com/D2ktH

Writes: Science Fiction / Fantasy / Horror / Adult Fiction / Drama / Humor / Whatever I Feel Like

Favorite Team: Chicago Blackhawks

Favorite Band(s): DevilDriver / Killswitch Engage

Favorite activity: Trying to convince my wife that I need a ninja sword. I mean, they wouldn't sell the things on TV if they weren't invaluable weapons for when gangs of ninja suddenly crash through your living room windows, swords drawn.

A gun in this situation is useless, as ninja laugh at guns then kick them out of your hand (then kick you in the stomach / knees / groin / face / spine a nanosecond later). The only way to fight evil ninja is with a sword. Hence, ninja sword. Ninja respect sword fighting.

My wife, she doesn't seem to understand the gravity of the situation when it comes to blood-crazed ninja looking to extract revenge on random citizens. She even had the nerve to ask me, very sarcastically, if these "ninja" (her finger quotes, not mine) spent their evenings driving a black ninja van down suburban streets looking for family members of ancestral enemies, just so they can exact revenge to fulfill some kind of ninja honor code.

To be honest, at first, I thought she was serious. Because she totally described ninja behavior, down to the last detail. They DO drive around suburban neighborhoods looking for surviving family lines of ancestral enemies to vanquish (or defeat, or behead, or whatever it is that ninja do to their intended victims who DON'T have a ninja sword to fight back).

You can imagine my displeasure when she revealed she was being whatever is more sarcastic than "sarcastic." Then you can imagine my immediate disappointment, possibly resentment, but I love her, so maybe just annoyance, unless a gang of ninja DO bust down our door and start swinging priceless katanas forged in the ancient fires of Mt. Xi deep in the heart of the Dragon Wastes, it most likely would swing to resentment, except it wouldn't, since we'd have no sword to defend ourselves and so we'd be walking within the spirit world, me whining and complaining to her whenever I wasn't making her listen to me say I TOLD YOU SO repeatedly. Wow, that's a really long sentence, packed full of vitamins and irons or something. Let's see, I totally forgot what I was trying to say... oh, right, so anyway, imagine my immediate disappointment after being mocked when she told me I was not allowed to own a ninja sword.

This is a true story, by the way, other than a couple of minor omissions (we've had this discussion (argument) run past the fifteen minute mark before) on my part to make her seem totally less mean and stuff. But she is. I never get to have any fun. So I secretly write stories to escape my own reality of being forty years old and not being allowed to own a beautiful, sleek, dangerously sharp, sale-priced ninja sword. I know, right? It even comes with a polished wooden stand!

Also, I like "The Wire." For some reason, I feel compelled to say that whenever I meet new people. I tried watching the series on DVD to find a subliminal message or some other sinister mechanism that forces people who've watched the show to announce that they love it and recommend anyone who hasn't seen it to do so as soon as humanly possible. I think I found a subliminal message, but it made me forget about finding a sinister message and instead redoubled its efforts to get me to talk about "The Wire" whenever I meet new people.

Um... There. That's my author bio. It is not full of lies, regardless of what anyone else that might be living in my house or married to me says. Don't believe them (her). I wouldn't write this unless it was true.