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My Unlucky Stars

The art of getting tough by being stupid

By Rod ChristiansenPublished 7 years ago 11 min read
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You might be asking, how did this kid find himself holding his breath and hiding under that car? And if you did, the only answer I'd have to give is a heaping of stupidity washed over with a lightly baked sauce of bad ideas. So let me rewind and take you back to the beginning, or what I now call, the cradle of folly, or as some would say metal shop.

"My brother's a ninja," I said, grinning with confidence.

"Man, you're like, what thirteen? Being a ninja takes years." Ignacio was the doubter amongst my small group of loosely termed "friends."

"Oh, yeah, how many years do you think it takes?" I challenged.

Ignacio glanced around the workbench where we were huddled and gave his rebuttal. "A lot more than your brother has, that's for sure."

Hermie chimed in with his two cents. "I don't know, man; maybe he is a ninja. 'Cause I never see him around when you're scheming your stupid ideas."

He had a point, but I wasn't going to admit it. How did I get roped into this again, oh yes, ninja stars? My brother had asked me if I could make some the night before and wanting to be the big man on campus, I of course obliged. If I'm truthful, my brother wasn't a ninja. He was, however, taking ninjutsu lessons from half a deaf instructor named Lenny. To add to his mystique, he was also a sort of gymnast, at least on the bars and where parkour was concerned.

Now, don't confuse what he did with the things a properly trained expert would do. His acrobatics were of the self-taught variety. But he was good, I don't know how Eric could do the amazing things he did, but he did them with style. He was my little brother, but I had no problem promoting him to a near legend, except with these two fools.

"Haha, what on earth is that?" Hermie laughed as he pointed at my assignment.

I looked at my shoddy shovel like contraption and answered. "What, man? It's my poop scoop."

"Yeah, it's poop, that's for sure." Ignacio wasn't helping.

"Besides, it'll pass. Teach won't care anyway. Now that's done, it's time to get some real work happening." I placed my rushed work in the project bin after hastily scribbling my name in Sharpie.

My "groupies" watched on as I took the metal cutters and began to carve my symmetrically shaped shuriken weapons of instant death. My shop teacher was a portly lawsuit waiting to happen. He never kept any semblance of an eye on us and only really got involved when someone got hurt or to grade our crappy projects. Hehe, good for me indeed. My pals laughed and chuckled as I struggled with my first couple, but by the time I finished, I held in my hand the assured projectiles of my enemies' doom. Twelve of them, to be exact.

We checked to make sure the coast was clear. Teach was reading a book and we still had plenty of time before the bell. "Target practice, anyone?" I called to my avid followers.

Disbelievers became mesmerized by the speed and accuracy of my creations. We nailed the wooden wall at the back of the shop with the flick of our wrists. My craftsmanship became quickly acknowledged as a wall of pinholes emerged. They were ready; my brother was going to be impressed.

The shop was the last class, and then it was off to home. Eric and I were the tallest of our siblings, even at that young age, I was approaching six feet, and Eric wasn't far behind me. "Dude, these are great. Hey, Scooter, come check these out, man." Eric called to my other brother.

They were both taken aback. "I can't believe you did it." Scooter patted me on the back, scooping three or four of the thin stars from my hand.

Legends in our minds, we quickly peppered the backyard wood fence with our small death dealers. Eric was a natural, me and Scooter, not so much. Now here's something you should know. Eric, Scooter, and I were like the trio of trouble, and we each had our roles. Scooter was the mastermind; Eric was the courage, and I was, well, I was the sucker. It was common knowledge that if anything was going to go wrong, it was going to come down to me. In the events that would follow, I stayed true to form.

"I have an idea. If you want to see these things rock, you should chuck 'em from the bridge." That was Scooter's contribution. He had planted the seed, and now it was our turn to step it up.

Eric couldn't resist, "Yeah, me likey. Just think of how fast we can get these things going if we got gravity on our side."

That was it. Somehow, Eric and I ended up on the overpass a few blocks up from the Juarez-Lincoln Elementary school. Scooter, of course, was nowhere to be found. The mastermind never actually participated in the incriminating act, but he sure did love the aftershow.

It was time. The coast was clear. Eric and I exchanged a pensive glance before casting our sight down to the empty road below. "Ok, dude. We're each gonna take one and chuck it at that street cone. Ready? On the count of three." Eric was referring to one of several street cones that lined the center of the road below. It was time to see if these things had any distance.

We both lifted our hands, and Eric counted, "One, Two."

Together, we finished the countdown, "THREE!" Away my sheet metal stars flew. The stars sliced through the air with unbelievable steadfastness. I couldn't believe it. I thought for sure my flimsy ninja projectiles would get washed up in the air, but no, they flew with accuracy. It was, therefore, difficult to explain why mine ended up nowhere near where I was supposed to be targeting.

With a barely discernible tang, my first volley pinged off of the roof of a silver sedan that came out of tunnel below us. At first, I was scared. My heart raced. Crap, what would he do, the driver in that car? Nothing, apparently. I'm not even sure he noticed.

For most normal adults or even mature young boys, that would have been a lesson. Don't through missiles at moving traffic; you might hit something. But we weren't adults, and we sure as heck weren't what I would call mature young boys. No, the appeal made by the ninja called to me. We were, after all, shadow warriors. What a couple of morons we were.

"Whoah! did you see that?" I pulled my hand to my mouth and laughed.

"That's nothing, wait till you see this," Eric said as we heard the rumbling of the next car emerging from the overpass. Eric raised his hand and took his stance; the ninja star flew from his hands.

Let me take a moment and pause for a second. You know those times when you commit to a decision that you instantly know is a bad one, but it's too late, and the cat's already of the bag? Like saying something nasty, you can't take back? You know how at that moment, everything slows down? You can't do anything but watch as your terrible choice unfolds into the next calamitous moment. This was one of those moments.

"No!" Too late. The words seemed to draw out over long seconds as I realized that the car was a top-down convertible. I remember seeing my brother, laughing and having fun, and then, time caught up with us. The car below swerved and crashed into one of the street cones before coming to a complete stop.

I was horrified. We both stood there, like idiots, as the man hopped out of his car. It didn't take long to locate the hyena standing next to the frozen kid on the overpass above him. I couldn't believe Eric was still laughing. He locked eyes on us. I'll never forget what happened next; the man smiled. At first, I thought he thought we were funny like he was the playful butt of a prank. That didn't last long. His smile quickly morphed into a scowl as he turned, got back in his car, and skidded into a U-turn.

That was my cue. I took off running like Bambi from a lion. My brother quickly caught up with me as we both sped into the parking lot of Juarez-Lincoln Elementary school. There were a lone yellow, gelape car and the empty school before us. "What are we gonna do, bro?" My voice was panicked as I tried to catch my breath.

"Nothing, man. He's gone." Eric was sure.

"What do you mean, he was looking right at us?"

I took a step to the side and stared down to the offramp before the overpass where we were moments before. I saw it, that red convertible, pulled up to the light and was turning our way. I pointed and ran to the dilapidated car. "It's him, dude. Hide!"

Eric never did tell me to where he disappeared. Somewhere in the deserted halls of the school, I guess. I wish I'd followed him.

The advantage of being thirteen for me was that, although I was tall, I was slightly malnourished and very skinny. It was a tight squeeze, but I managed to get my body up under that car. That was a scary place. The underside of that vehicle felt so claustrophobic. I couldn't turn my head, so I was stuck staring in one direction. My heart pounded. I heard the car pull into the parking lot. Oh no, he had to be close. I heard him getting out as if he were right behind me.

Dangit', I couldn't turn my head. Maybe he was right behind me. I heard his heels click on the ground as the sound of his footsteps circled me. Click, click, they were slow. Was he torturing me? Did he know where I was? Click, click, until I saw his black leather boots draped with denim jeans. The scene was right out of the movies. His boots stopped, right in front of my face. At first, his shoes pointed to the school, but like those old horror movies, they turned to face me.

Almost unbearable seconds lapsed as I struggled to hold my breath, letting out only the most controlled and slow breaths. I think the man was toying with me. Then, as I sat there in horrified silence, my thin metal roughly cut ninja star fell to the ground in front of me. He dropped it there for me to see. He wanted me to know he knew. I was truly scared.

Then, just as I thought the worst was coming, he turned and walked away. Click, click, his heels slapped the ground. As he vanished from sight, I enjoyed the reprieve. He apparently knew right where I was. Perhaps, being the adult, he thought that my lesson was learned. I heard his car door open, a small amount of rustling followed. Then the door closed. Was I in the clear? Was the worst behind me? I waited for the car to start. No such thing happened. Instead, I heard it again. Click, click.

Then, indescribable searing pain. Starting on my butt cheek and then quickly shooting to the top of my head. The shock of it caught me off guard. My body reeled but had nowhere to go. My head collided with the undercarriage of the car on top of me. My hands flailed, and my legs squirmed helplessly. It all happened so fast. Twice more he stabbed before finally relenting. From the sound and the feel of his prodding, I figured out that he was jabbing me from behind with a crowbar.

If he hadn't known before, he was sure now that I was hiding underneath. I remember wanting to cry but being too panicked as I kicked like an upside down beetle. The soreness was setting in, and all I heard from behind me was a deep male grown-up chuckle. He laughed for a moment; then I listened to the car door close. His engine started, and I heard him pull away. At last, the ordeal was ending.

I painted my childhood with similar strokes of pain and sprinkled my bad choices against a canvas of not-so-bright ideas. Looking back, I realize that my coming of age molded the man I'd become. Glad to have learned early, I have adopted the philosophy that if you're going to be stupid, best learn to be tough.

There were three things in particular that I learned that day. One, don't throw projectiles at roads where cars drive; you never know what's coming. Two, best to reserve metal shop for poop scoops and door handles. Three, maybe my brother was a ninja.

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About the Creator

Rod Christiansen

I am writer intrigued by all genres of science fiction, especially AI and self-aware machines. You can read my stories and musings at http://tinyurl.com/grhpzkx.

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