Ninja Weasle & the Blanket of Infinite Doom

Ninja Weasle & the Blanket of Infinite Doomhttp://ninjaweaselblog.blog.co.uk/Background: This blog follows the adventures of Ninja Weasel and the Blanket of Infinite Doom, friends since childhood, who are now semi-mature young adults with dreams of taking over the world... and getting a date. en-AUhourly82000-01-01T12:00+00:00Ninja Weasle & the Blanket of Infinite Doomhttp://ninjaweaselblog.blog.co.uk/http://data5.blog.de/design/preview/ca/ed0558f5a2c598157b4b4f6b998f99_160x200.jpgThe Library: Not Just A Place To Readhttp://ninjaweaselblog.blog.co.uk/2006/09/08/the_library_not_just_a_place_to_read~1108081/2006-09-08T13:59:48+02:00 Since The Blanket had sent the better part of the night(the better part being the X-Files Marathon on satelite) seaching for Ninja, well, it can be safely said that thier reunion in the university library was not of the standard of Heathrow, but more of the calibre of Jerry Springer. "What the hell do you think your doing?" The Blanket yelled, well, as much as he every really yelled. It was far more like his normal voice, just higher pitched."I've been looking for you everywhere!!" "Always the last place you look." Ninja chuckled, not helping the problem. "Yes, because I didn't think you even knew the university had a library." "Of course I do!!" Nija stuck his chin out in an indignant gesture which made him look like a furry shrimp trawler. "Then why do you call it the 'big thing' whenever you see it?" The Blanket gestured wildly, trying to encompass a three story building from within with his own two arms. Ninja flitted his eyes around the room as though he would find an answer on the cibracrome walls. "Economy of words?" "Library is one word. Big thing is two." The Blanket frowned a little deeper, giving him creases you know he'd have to iron out later. "Syllables then?" The Blanket blinked. "Syllable? Did you just use the word syllable?" "Uh huh." Ninja gave a small head nod. The Blanket had had quite enough. Not only had he missed that hot red head talking about science, but he had a newly beaned bean bag, a semi-expensive red wine and small eclaire waiting at home bought especially for this night. Needless to say, when such plans were destroyed, anger most understanbly insues. "For god's sake you complete ninny, what are you doing here at 10 at night in a friday?!?!?!" Ninja shrunk back into his swizel chair. "I'm studying." "Your studying?" The Blanket said it slowly, like he was a a Narnian fawn trying to say 'supercalifragilisticexpialidocious'. "Uh huh." Ninja swizeled back to the screen sheepishly. "Why?" "Well... I have this new tutor... and..." The Blanket snorted deriseivly. "What, is she cute or something?" Ninja went stiff and began to type like his life depended in letters per second. "She is, isn't she!! What are you, Tommy Lee?" "Listen, she just asked me if I needed help in class yesterday, and I said yes. And everything she said kind of stuck with me." "Rules out her having big breasts I suppose." The Blanket was rapidly losing steam for his train of angry thought. He slumped down into an uncomfortably grey and cheap office chair. "I gotta go print this out... give me a minute." Ninja ran off to the printers, leaving a deflated Blanket to contemplate the wonders of Teevo and as to when his parents would come around to his way of thinking. He only hoped his mother had not eaten his eclaire. Her increase in appitite latly had gone from obvious to obscene. IT was just then, as he mused upon his mother's appetite issue, that he recieved a tap on his shoulder. He could tell by the smell of Old Spice and lycra that it was the Beaver of Incredible Terror and Key Lime Pie, secret identity of Mr Bartholemu Norris, The Blanket's body building statistic's tutor. "How's it hanging dude?" Norris sat down across from The Blanket, short shorts hikeing up so they were more like an Addidas speedo. The Blanket stared absently at Norris. "I missed The X-Files marathon because doofus brain's genitals learn better than he does." Norris nodded. "So... no as well as they could be hanging." He laughed an overtly manly laugh and slapped The Blanket on the arm, a slap which felt more a a swipe from a bear, and sent The Blanket hard into the desktop. "Not really." The Blanket weezed. "Plus, my mother has decended into some kind of downward spiral into some kind anti-christ." "She giving you issues man?" He said it in a tone which sounded like he knew from first hand experience, which he prabably did because he was 40 years old and living in his mother's condo on the sofa. Divorce had not been fair to Norris. "Indeed. Constantly eating, crying, yelling, its like PMS has taken up a full time shift to pay its bills on time." Norris chuckled. "Bro, its harsh, but thats what pregnant chicks do." The Blanket believed his entire respiratory system stopped right then. "Pregnant?" "Oh yeah. When the missus got knocked up it was all she ever did. This one time..." Although The Blanket usually let Norris drown him in bitter nostalgia tonight was not the night for such human kindness. "I gotta go, Mr Norris. Thanks for the chat, say goodbye to Ninja for me." They both turned to watch Ninja slaping the print machine yelling something about a printer mismatch. "No probs dude." The Blanket sailed down the stairs to the parking lot, hoping he was home in time beofre his mother went to bed. Or that he at least caught her night-time snack break. Because he had something to say about this pregnant thing. He wanted to put in an order for a brother. <a href="http://ninjaweaselblog.blog.co.uk/2006/09/08/the_library_not_just_a_place_to_read~1108081/#comments">Comments</a> Since The Blanket had sent the better part of the night(the better part being the X-Files Marathon on satelite) seaching for Ninja, well, it can be safely said that thier reunion in the university library was not of the standard of Heathrow, but more of the calibre of Jerry Springer.
"What the hell do you think your doing?" The Blanket yelled, well, as much as he every really yelled. It was far more like his normal voice, just higher pitched."I've been looking for you everywhere!!"
"Always the last place you look." Ninja chuckled, not helping the problem.
"Yes, because I didn't think you even knew the university had a library."
"Of course I do!!" Nija stuck his chin out in an indignant gesture which made him look like a furry shrimp trawler.
"Then why do you call it the 'big thing' whenever you see it?" The Blanket gestured wildly, trying to encompass a three story building from within with his own two arms.
Ninja flitted his eyes around the room as though he would find an answer on the cibracrome walls. "Economy of words?"
"Library is one word. Big thing is two." The Blanket frowned a little deeper, giving him creases you know he'd have to iron out later.
"Syllables then?"
The Blanket blinked. "Syllable? Did you just use the word syllable?"
"Uh huh." Ninja gave a small head nod.
The Blanket had had quite enough. Not only had he missed that hot red head talking about science, but he had a newly beaned bean bag, a semi-expensive red wine and small eclaire waiting at home bought especially for this night. Needless to say, when such plans were destroyed, anger most understanbly insues. "For god's sake you complete ninny, what are you doing here at 10 at night in a friday?!?!?!"
Ninja shrunk back into his swizel chair. "I'm studying."
"Your studying?" The Blanket said it slowly, like he was a a Narnian fawn trying to say 'supercalifragilisticexpialidocious'.
"Uh huh." Ninja swizeled back to the screen sheepishly.
"Why?"
"Well... I have this new tutor... and..."
The Blanket snorted deriseivly. "What, is she cute or something?"
Ninja went stiff and began to type like his life depended in letters per second.
"She is, isn't she!! What are you, Tommy Lee?"
"Listen, she just asked me if I needed help in class yesterday, and I said yes. And everything she said kind of stuck with me."
"Rules out her having big breasts I suppose." The Blanket was rapidly losing steam for his train of angry thought. He slumped down into an uncomfortably grey and cheap office chair.
"I gotta go print this out... give me a minute." Ninja ran off to the printers, leaving a deflated Blanket to contemplate the wonders of Teevo and as to when his parents would come around to his way of thinking. He only hoped his mother had not eaten his eclaire. Her increase in appitite latly had gone from obvious to obscene.
IT was just then, as he mused upon his mother's appetite issue, that he recieved a tap on his shoulder. He could tell by the smell of Old Spice and lycra that it was the Beaver of Incredible Terror and Key Lime Pie, secret identity of Mr Bartholemu Norris, The Blanket's body building statistic's tutor.
"How's it hanging dude?" Norris sat down across from The Blanket, short shorts hikeing up so they were more like an Addidas speedo.
The Blanket stared absently at Norris. "I missed The X-Files marathon because doofus brain's genitals learn better than he does."
Norris nodded. "So... no as well as they could be hanging." He laughed an overtly manly laugh and slapped The Blanket on the arm, a slap which felt more a a swipe from a bear, and sent The Blanket hard into the desktop.
"Not really." The Blanket weezed. "Plus, my mother has decended into some kind of downward spiral into some kind anti-christ."
"She giving you issues man?" He said it in a tone which sounded like he knew from first hand experience, which he prabably did because he was 40 years old and living in his mother's condo on the sofa. Divorce had not been fair to Norris.
"Indeed. Constantly eating, crying, yelling, its like PMS has taken up a full time shift to pay its bills on time."
Norris chuckled. "Bro, its harsh, but thats what pregnant chicks do."
The Blanket believed his entire respiratory system stopped right then. "Pregnant?"
"Oh yeah. When the missus got knocked up it was all she ever did. This one time..."
Although The Blanket usually let Norris drown him in bitter nostalgia tonight was not the night for such human kindness. "I gotta go, Mr Norris. Thanks for the chat, say goodbye to Ninja for me." They both turned to watch Ninja slaping the print machine yelling something about a printer mismatch.
"No probs dude."
The Blanket sailed down the stairs to the parking lot, hoping he was home in time beofre his mother went to bed. Or that he at least caught her night-time snack break. Because he had something to say about this pregnant thing.
He wanted to put in an order for a brother.

Comments

]]>Show-down at the OK McDonaldshttp://ninjaweaselblog.blog.co.uk/2006/04/08/title~712678/2006-04-08T17:46:20+02:00 "I'm going to kill him..." "Ninja, please..." "I'm going to take his scrawny little neck and snap it like a cheese doodle..." "That's not very nice, I'm sure you can work it out..." "Then I'm going to hack his head off and stuff brie down the hole!" The Blanket finally turned from Ninja and stomped back to the counter. "You forgot his sweet and sour sauce." The scrawny red headed kid with the employee of the month badge make an eek sound and scampered off like a rat with the runs.. coming back with three sweet and sour sauces, two ketchups and an employ time card... The Blanket looked at the pile Employee of the Month dumped on the counter, then back at the boy. He was shaking and his pupils were blown out like a racoon at a red neck camping trip. "Thank you." The Blanket said it in that slow voice that police men use in the movies when thier telling the bank robber that their putting their gun down. The boy flinched and ran to duck behind the frozen coke machine. The Blanket gave him a raised eyebrow and turned away. To be honest, The Blanket didn't quite see how Ninja inspired such terror. Sure, he was covered in dried mud from the toe of his converse all stars to the tips of his ears. And he had a blood nose stuffed with blue sea shell embossed toilet paper, and a huge black eye that had swelled to the size of a rhino's hemarroid. And then there was the fact that he was wearing a pink bathrobe with daisies on it... All together The Blanket supposed that Ninja had a certain air to him that could illict a disdainful, curious or shocked resonse... And his mood wasn't helping that possibility. He was in a state of constant glare; so much so that if you listened very closly you could hear his eyes sizzling in their sockets. The Blanket handed Ninja the sauces and the time card. "Happy? You got your sauce and a nifty time card thing... And I think Fanta Pants over there will be in therapy from now until he finishes puperty." The Blanket flicked a look at the boy, who was trembling so much that, for what was probably the first time in his career, he was actually doing a good job of salting and shaking the fries. "Which will probably be a long long time..." Ninja looked at the time card. "Little snot gets too many hours." Then he took his little paper baggie of food and stomped out the door. The Blanket started to shuffle out after him when a hand laid itself gently on his shoulder, stopping him with an almost curteous pressure. The Blanket's shoulder's slumped a little. "Louis... I'm not talking to you right now." "Pardon my treatment of my brother, mon ami. But you will notice that I did not harm you in any way, mon itchy brother." The Blanket sighed. "I know... but you hit him with bucket, Louis." "Oui.Ow is this so bad, mon thermal chatte?" "It had rocks in it!" "Oui. But he had a soft place to land. No?" "Yes, but it was a mud pit." "He was lucky!!" The Blanket frowned. "It was a very convienent mud pit..." Louise shrugged like it was a dance move. "Such is the luckl of the brazve." "Ninja? Brave?" Louise gave him the River duh face. "Non, I was reffering to myself, mon 1000 thread count compardre..." The Blanket took a deep breath. "Enough with the pet names, Louis, I feel like your girlfriend..." Louis shrugged again. "Very well. Please do not be so unreasonable about our little altercation, however... I had ample provocation." The Blanket had to agree there. Ninja had hid on the roof of Louis' hotel and thrown water bombs full of garlic sauce at him. Followed by a bucket of Parmasean cheese... and anchovies. "I guess..." The Blanket said, being that he was still a loyal 'sidekick', even if Ninja was a fault. Louis gave him a look. "Mon... er.. Blanket... you are a beautifully loyal linen item. But you must realize that my brother is, how you say? A nitwit?" It was all that The Blanket could do to not nod frantically. Then he was struck by a sudden surge of attitude. "Ok, now listen. He may be selfish, and he may never clean his sock or pay for his own meals. He smells funny and chases anythign i9n a skirt and he throws latex missiles embued with condiments at his realitives. But he is my friend. And you took it too far Louis. I used to reserve some sympathy for you. But your just a big mean french man with a funny hat!" Louis recoiled back like a male ballerina. A gay one. "The war is on, mon smelly fake fench rodent!" And with that he flounced out the door as only a true blanket can. <a href="http://ninjaweaselblog.blog.co.uk/2006/04/08/title~712678/#comments">Comments</a> "I'm going to kill him..."
"Ninja, please..."
"I'm going to take his scrawny little neck and snap it like a cheese doodle..."
"That's not very nice, I'm sure you can work it out..."
"Then I'm going to hack his head off and stuff brie down the hole!"
The Blanket finally turned from Ninja and stomped back to the counter. "You forgot his sweet and sour sauce."
The scrawny red headed kid with the employee of the month badge make an eek sound and scampered off like a rat with the runs.. coming back with three sweet and sour sauces, two ketchups and an employ time card...
The Blanket looked at the pile Employee of the Month dumped on the counter, then back at the boy. He was shaking and his pupils were blown out like a racoon at a red neck camping trip. "Thank you." The Blanket said it in that slow voice that police men use in the movies when thier telling the bank robber that their putting their gun down.
The boy flinched and ran to duck behind the frozen coke machine. The Blanket gave him a raised eyebrow and turned away. To be honest, The Blanket didn't quite see how Ninja inspired such terror. Sure, he was covered in dried mud from the toe of his converse all stars to the tips of his ears. And he had a blood nose stuffed with blue sea shell embossed toilet paper, and a huge black eye that had swelled to the size of a rhino's hemarroid. And then there was the fact that he was wearing a pink bathrobe with daisies on it... All together The Blanket supposed that Ninja had a certain air to him that could illict a disdainful, curious or shocked resonse... And his mood wasn't helping that possibility. He was in a state of constant glare; so much so that if you listened very closly you could hear his eyes sizzling in their sockets.
The Blanket handed Ninja the sauces and the time card. "Happy? You got your sauce and a nifty time card thing... And I think Fanta Pants over there will be in therapy from now until he finishes puperty." The Blanket flicked a look at the boy, who was trembling so much that, for what was probably the first time in his career, he was actually doing a good job of salting and shaking the fries. "Which will probably be a long long time..."
Ninja looked at the time card. "Little snot gets too many hours." Then he took his little paper baggie of food and stomped out the door.
The Blanket started to shuffle out after him when a hand laid itself gently on his shoulder, stopping him with an almost curteous pressure. The Blanket's shoulder's slumped a little. "Louis... I'm not talking to you right now."
"Pardon my treatment of my brother, mon ami. But you will notice that I did not harm you in any way, mon itchy brother."
The Blanket sighed. "I know... but you hit him with bucket, Louis."
"Oui.Ow is this so bad, mon thermal chatte?"
"It had rocks in it!"
"Oui. But he had a soft place to land. No?"
"Yes, but it was a mud pit."
"He was lucky!!"
The Blanket frowned. "It was a very convienent mud pit..."
Louise shrugged like it was a dance move. "Such is the luckl of the brazve."
"Ninja? Brave?"
Louise gave him the River duh face. "Non, I was reffering to myself, mon 1000 thread count compardre..."
The Blanket took a deep breath. "Enough with the pet names, Louis, I feel like your girlfriend..."
Louis shrugged again. "Very well. Please do not be so unreasonable about our little altercation, however... I had ample provocation."
The Blanket had to agree there. Ninja had hid on the roof of Louis' hotel and thrown water bombs full of garlic sauce at him. Followed by a bucket of Parmasean cheese... and anchovies.
"I guess..." The Blanket said, being that he was still a loyal 'sidekick', even if Ninja was a fault.
Louis gave him a look. "Mon... er.. Blanket... you are a beautifully loyal linen item. But you must realize that my brother is, how you say? A nitwit?"
It was all that The Blanket could do to not nod frantically. Then he was struck by a sudden surge of attitude. "Ok, now listen. He may be selfish, and he may never clean his sock or pay for his own meals. He smells funny and chases anythign i9n a skirt and he throws latex missiles embued with condiments at his realitives. But he is my friend. And you took it too far Louis. I used to reserve some sympathy for you. But your just a big mean french man with a funny hat!" Louis recoiled back like a male ballerina. A gay one. "The war is on, mon smelly fake fench rodent!"
And with that he flounced out the door as only a true blanket can.

Comments

]]>The French Frustrationhttp://ninjaweaselblog.blog.co.uk/2006/03/25/title~672910/2006-03-25T04:57:26+01:00 The weekend found our hero's (?) sitting on the couch in their Y fronts, drinking beer and eating cold, two day old pizza, watching I Love Lucy re-runs on Ninja's uncle's pay TV. Uncle Ally knew all about the despair of being stood up by someone you never met... He'd ordered seven mail-order wives over the years and none had ever turned up. This had helped Ally develop a healthy dislike for Russia and the US postal service. But an unhealthy love of Heiniken and artery hardening foodstuffs... It was right before the best bit in their ninth episode of Lucy, that Ninja's phone went off... And the dynamic(?) duo were dressed and out of the house before the credits rolled... Because they had gotten a tip off. A tip off that Louis was back... And that just would not do. Louis was not his real name. His real name was Marty. He had left the States one fine day for a summer abroard in France. School exchange, sounds harmless. But within a month Marty had taken to eating unpronouncable cheeses on even harder to pronounce breads, being snippy, talking with an accent, testing Nuclear weapons in tropical oceans, wearing a beret, changed his name to Louis and drank wine at 4 in the afternoon... But most shoking of all was that he intended to beat Ninja at taking over the world. His name was The Incorrigable Weasle of Ultimate Supremacy. And he was Ninja's brother. They found Louis, sprawled lazily in a chair in an arty coffee shop called Le Pertentieux Consommateur. He was wearing that same beret with which he had once slapped Ninja and declared the battle for world domination truely ON. Ninja walked straight up to him and tipped his latte in this lap. Louis slowly looked down at his lap... "I see... brother, have we not matured past this by now?" He dabbed his browned, soggy, cream coloured dress slacks with a three ply napkin. The Blanket could nearly see steam coming off Ninja's head... "Go home, Marty..." He said through gritted teeth. Louis flicked a hand Ninja's way... "Listen to my rasberry sounds... pthttttt." "Now who's being immature...!!!!!!!" Ninja gestured with a stiff finger at his brother. Louis sighed and turned in his seat to face Ninja. "Brother... please do not gesticulate in that manner, it is very rude..." He looked Ninja up and down, ignored the clenched jaw and clenched hairy fists, and said, "Oh, brother, why do you insist on dressing like such an American... chinos and a singlet!Mon chatte, they invented style for a reason...!!!!!" The Blanket saw something ferrel and reckless creep into Ninja's eye... something he'd only seen once before after a soft ball competion when Dave Spernsburg had called Ninja a ferret... or, more precisely, the Ferret of Infinte Stench... The Blanket stepped in between the brothers, facing Ninja. "Maybe I should do a little talking now...ok? Maybe you should go get some carbohyrates? Huh?" Ninja pouted for a moment then made a humph sound and slouched off to the McDonald's on the other side of the street. The Blanket let out a releived sigh and turned to Louis. "Hey Louis..." Luis smiled and stood, taking The Blanket's face between his hands. "Mon Ami!!!!!" He planted a wet kiss on both of The BLanket's cheeks. The Blanket strained a smile out. "Nice to see you too." Louis gestured widely at his table. "Pease, take a seat, have a croissant! Fattening, but you only live once...No?" The Blanket sat and picked up a pastry. He nibbled the end. then He looked at Louis, who was beaming like a child who'd won 1st prize int the science fair. The Blanket sighed. "Louis, not that it isn't great to see you..." Louis' face fell. "And it really is... you look..." The Blanket searched about a bit, "Very urbane...?" Louis smiled hautily. "Its the moustache... it lends me a little...lagniappe." "Ok, I can't explain how much I don't want to know what that means." The Blanket put down the pastry. Louis gave him a sidelong eye roll, complete with eyebrow and slight head shake. "Pauve ti bete!" "Or that either..." The Blanket leaned forward. "Louis, can't you aggravate Ninja from the other side of the really big wet thing known as the ocean??" Louis leant back and sprawled languously, stubbornly and pompously in his chair, all similtainiously. "Non. I enjoy doing it mano-e-mano, oui? Also... the distance... pah! Seeing his tiny little Capitalist eyes while I, how you say, aggravate him... it increases my joie de vivre." Sheer horror spread across The Blanket's face. He'd only taken one semester of French and what he'd got off that last phrase was not for polite company... Louise looked down his nose with a condescending and tired air. "Joy of living, mon ami. Joie de vivre, joy of living...Ah!" He threw up a hairy hand and spoke rapidly in French, none of it intelligable to The Blanket and none of it sounding very positive... The Blanket frowned. "Okaaaaay.... Anyway, Louis, can you please go home? He'll pop a blood vessle in his head if you stay!" Louis threw his nose up and made an Adonis pose. "Then he will pop, no? I have as much righ to be here as he does! Duel citizenship, oui?" The Blanket turned to watch Ninja sitting on a park bench across the street stabbing his burger with a straw. The Blanket sighed. "Ok, fine. But would you mind telling me what your here for? Other than to make my life hell?" Louis chuckled. "Mon ami, you are how they say, a hoot!" He raised his new cup of latte and made swirly gesture. "I am here to take over the world, no?" The Blanket sighed again. "Oh shit." "Non, mon ami... Merde. Not shit, Merde. Oui?" The Blanke glared at Louis. "Merci a bunch." Louis shrugged as only the French can. "Can't you just take over France?" The Blanket made one last ditched effort. Louise made a crazily shocked face. "Who would want France?" <a href="http://ninjaweaselblog.blog.co.uk/2006/03/25/title~672910/#comments">Comments</a> The weekend found our hero's (?) sitting on the couch in their Y fronts, drinking beer and eating cold, two day old pizza, watching I Love Lucy re-runs on Ninja's uncle's pay TV. Uncle Ally knew all about the despair of being stood up by someone you never met... He'd ordered seven mail-order wives over the years and none had ever turned up. This had helped Ally develop a healthy dislike for Russia and the US postal service. But an unhealthy love of Heiniken and artery hardening foodstuffs...
It was right before the best bit in their ninth episode of Lucy, that Ninja's phone went off...
And the dynamic(?) duo were dressed and out of the house before the credits rolled... Because they had gotten a tip off. A tip off that Louis was back... And that just would not do.
Louis was not his real name. His real name was Marty. He had left the States one fine day for a summer abroard in France. School exchange, sounds harmless. But within a month Marty had taken to eating unpronouncable cheeses on even harder to pronounce breads, being snippy, talking with an accent, testing Nuclear weapons in tropical oceans, wearing a beret, changed his name to Louis and drank wine at 4 in the afternoon...
But most shoking of all was that he intended to beat Ninja at taking over the world.
His name was The Incorrigable Weasle of Ultimate Supremacy.
And he was Ninja's brother.

They found Louis, sprawled lazily in a chair in an arty coffee shop called Le Pertentieux Consommateur. He was wearing that same beret with which he had once slapped Ninja and declared the battle for world domination truely ON.
Ninja walked straight up to him and tipped his latte in this lap.
Louis slowly looked down at his lap... "I see... brother, have we not matured past this by now?" He dabbed his browned, soggy, cream coloured dress slacks with a three ply napkin.
The Blanket could nearly see steam coming off Ninja's head...
"Go home, Marty..." He said through gritted teeth.
Louis flicked a hand Ninja's way... "Listen to my rasberry sounds... pthttttt."
"Now who's being immature...!!!!!!!" Ninja gestured with a stiff finger at his brother.
Louis sighed and turned in his seat to face Ninja. "Brother... please do not gesticulate in that manner, it is very rude..." He looked Ninja up and down, ignored the clenched jaw and clenched hairy fists, and said, "Oh, brother, why do you insist on dressing like such an American... chinos and a singlet!Mon chatte, they invented style for a reason...!!!!!"
The Blanket saw something ferrel and reckless creep into Ninja's eye... something he'd only seen once before after a soft ball competion when Dave Spernsburg had called Ninja a ferret... or, more precisely, the Ferret of Infinte Stench...
The Blanket stepped in between the brothers, facing Ninja. "Maybe I should do a little talking now...ok? Maybe you should go get some carbohyrates? Huh?" Ninja pouted for a moment then made a humph sound and slouched off to the McDonald's on the other side of the street.
The Blanket let out a releived sigh and turned to Louis. "Hey Louis..."
Luis smiled and stood, taking The Blanket's face between his hands. "Mon Ami!!!!!" He planted a wet kiss on both of The BLanket's cheeks.
The Blanket strained a smile out. "Nice to see you too."
Louis gestured widely at his table. "Pease, take a seat, have a croissant! Fattening, but you only live once...No?"
The Blanket sat and picked up a pastry. He nibbled the end. then He looked at Louis, who was beaming like a child who'd won 1st prize int the science fair. The Blanket sighed. "Louis, not that it isn't great to see you..." Louis' face fell. "And it really is... you look..." The Blanket searched about a bit, "Very urbane...?"
Louis smiled hautily. "Its the moustache... it lends me a little...lagniappe."
"Ok, I can't explain how much I don't want to know what that means." The Blanket put down the pastry.
Louis gave him a sidelong eye roll, complete with eyebrow and slight head shake. "Pauve ti bete!"
"Or that either..." The Blanket leaned forward. "Louis, can't you aggravate Ninja from the other side of the really big wet thing known as the ocean??"
Louis leant back and sprawled languously, stubbornly and pompously in his chair, all similtainiously. "Non. I enjoy doing it mano-e-mano, oui? Also... the distance... pah! Seeing his tiny little Capitalist eyes while I, how you say, aggravate him... it increases my joie de vivre."
Sheer horror spread across The Blanket's face. He'd only taken one semester of French and what he'd got off that last phrase was not for polite company...
Louise looked down his nose with a condescending and tired air. "Joy of living, mon ami. Joie de vivre, joy of living...Ah!" He threw up a hairy hand and spoke rapidly in French, none of it intelligable to The Blanket and none of it sounding very positive...
The Blanket frowned. "Okaaaaay.... Anyway, Louis, can you please go home? He'll pop a blood vessle in his head if you stay!"
Louis threw his nose up and made an Adonis pose. "Then he will pop, no? I have as much righ to be here as he does! Duel citizenship, oui?"
The Blanket turned to watch Ninja sitting on a park bench across the street stabbing his burger with a straw. The Blanket sighed. "Ok, fine. But would you mind telling me what your here for? Other than to make my life hell?"
Louis chuckled. "Mon ami, you are how they say, a hoot!" He raised his new cup of latte and made swirly gesture. "I am here to take over the world, no?"
The Blanket sighed again. "Oh shit."
"Non, mon ami... Merde. Not shit, Merde. Oui?"
The Blanke glared at Louis. "Merci a bunch."
Louis shrugged as only the French can.
"Can't you just take over France?" The Blanket made one last ditched effort.
Louise made a crazily shocked face. "Who would want France?"

Comments

]]>Runaround Girls and WalMart Break Your Heart Every Timehttp://ninjaweaselblog.blog.co.uk/2006/03/25/runaround_girls_and_walmart_break_your_h~672902/2006-03-25T04:35:45+01:00 Ninja waited outside the WalMart for three hours. He was wearing jeans and a white wife beater... hoping against hope to look Ryan-from-the-OC-cool...while maintaining an I-will-take-over-the-world flair. An hour in it had started to get cold. Two hours in it was raining like only Noah had known, and Derrik, the WalMart assisstant manager, had told him to stop loitering in the doorway. So he was standing in the parking lot, looking less like a Fascist bad-boy and more like a rat that went through the washing machine on the spin cycle. After the third hour, and the fifth old lady trying to give him donations, he walked home. It poured all the way up to his door... at which point the rain evaporated with a karmic 'up yours' in his direction. Ninja planted his head hard against the front door and started to diligently bang it with his forehead. "Argerageraga!" He said. "Why???" The next head bang missed and he pulled his head up short of The Blanket... who was looking slicked up with styling gel in his threads and black dress pants... with the cuffs roled up. Ninja frowned. "Where are you off to?" The Blanket ducked his head with a grin Ninja knew only too well... "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!" Yelled Ninja, much in the tradition of Darth Vader finding out the missus had croaked... "Take a look at me, dude, I'm wet, I'm cold, I have five dollars in change from scary old people who thought I was homeless, and, oh, yeah, NO 90 POUND COCKTAIL WAITRESSS!!!!!!" The Blanket gave Ninja a symathetic, 'poor you' look. "I'm so sorry... I wish it had worked out for you. But mine will... we are perfect for each other...." The Blanket jumped off the porch and started to skip away down the footpath. Ninja grabbed his own hair and pulled desperately. "Banket, don't go... You know nothing about her!!! She'll leave you alone and dripping with despair." The Blanket didn't look back. He just said over his shoulder, "I know everything about her... She's doing a B in mass communications and she's putting herself through uni waitressing... And she'll be wearing the orange sweater..." Ninja closed the door quietly and returned to beating his head against it in time to The Blankets last five infamous words, "With The Clowns On It." <a href="http://ninjaweaselblog.blog.co.uk/2006/03/25/runaround_girls_and_walmart_break_your_h~672902/#comments">Comments</a> Ninja waited outside the WalMart for three hours. He was wearing jeans and a white wife beater... hoping against hope to look Ryan-from-the-OC-cool...while maintaining an I-will-take-over-the-world flair. An hour in it had started to get cold. Two hours in it was raining like only Noah had known, and Derrik, the WalMart assisstant manager, had told him to stop loitering in the doorway. So he was standing in the parking lot, looking less like a Fascist bad-boy and more like a rat that went through the washing machine on the spin cycle.
After the third hour, and the fifth old lady trying to give him donations, he walked home. It poured all the way up to his door... at which point the rain evaporated with a karmic 'up yours' in his direction. Ninja planted his head hard against the front door and started to diligently bang it with his forehead. "Argerageraga!" He said. "Why???"
The next head bang missed and he pulled his head up short of The Blanket... who was looking slicked up with styling gel in his threads and black dress pants... with the cuffs roled up. Ninja frowned. "Where are you off to?"
The Blanket ducked his head with a grin Ninja knew only too well...
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!" Yelled Ninja, much in the tradition of Darth Vader finding out the missus had croaked... "Take a look at me, dude, I'm wet, I'm cold, I have five dollars in change from scary old people who thought I was homeless, and, oh, yeah, NO 90 POUND COCKTAIL WAITRESSS!!!!!!"
The Blanket gave Ninja a symathetic, 'poor you' look. "I'm so sorry... I wish it had worked out for you. But mine will... we are perfect for each other...." The Blanket jumped off the porch and started to skip away down the footpath.
Ninja grabbed his own hair and pulled desperately. "Banket, don't go... You know nothing about her!!! She'll leave you alone and dripping with despair."
The Blanket didn't look back. He just said over his shoulder, "I know everything about her... She's doing a B in mass communications and she's putting herself through uni waitressing... And she'll be wearing the orange sweater..."
Ninja closed the door quietly and returned to beating his head against it in time to The Blankets last five infamous words, "With The Clowns On It."

Comments

]]>The Bold And The Hairyhttp://ninjaweaselblog.blog.co.uk/2006/03/04/title~612535/2006-03-04T18:07:45+01:00 "You can NOT fall in love over the internet." "Yes, you can. She is perfect, and my soulmate, and you're ruining a beautiful moment here!!!!!" The Ninja Weasel was standing by his PC, which boasted the 'Cupid Has A Sense Of Humor' chat site. He was standing with the air of Napoleon on the far side of the Waterloo plain. Basically, a little desperate and a lot in denile... And The Blanket was an Englishman doing the Dance of Joy as the French troops were frantically deciding which road would get them gone quicker. "Nerg..." Said The Blanket. "Come on, for all you know she could be a 400lb single mother of seven, who works as a telemarketer from her loungroom because she can't get out of her house for the Subway wrappers..." "SHUT UP! I've seen her profile! She is a 90 pound cocktail waitress from Boston. She's at uni doing mass communication." He threw his nose up into the air. "Um hm, right..." The Blanket said, hoping that it was the extreme lateness that was making Ninja declare undying affection for someone he'd IM'd for a week... "And your going to meet her outside WalMart on a saturday... and she'll be wearing the orange sweater? With the clowns on it?" Ninja made a stony face... "I find it cute..." "How cute will it be when you find she has a .32 strapped to her ankel and a mortage?" Ninja turned The Blanket around forcefully and pushed him out the door. Theyw ere both staying at Ninja's house while his parents were in Tahoe visiting his grandma. It was about 3am and Ninja had been talking to this woman, LadyKryptonite, since four in the afternoon. He was intending to get a few hours sleep and then meet her in town at the local WalMart. The Blanket, after valiantly trying for sevral extra minutes to talk him out of it through the closed door, left the cyber lover to get his beauty sleep. The Blanket heard him leave, a few hours later... and the smell of $5 aftershave spreading thickly through the whole house. The Blanket wondered mildly if, in the name of science.. he should test his theory... that you can't fall in love via the internet... by trying to fall in love over the interent himself? So.. with trepidition, and an excitement known only to the likes of Einstein and Pavlov, The Blanket opened up a browser and started to get himself registered... On Cupid Has A Sense Of Humour.com Will Ninja find his true love a fair maiden? Or Ms Shrek? Will The Blanket prove or dissprove his hypothesis? Tune in next time... To Days Of Our Lives! Oh, wait... sorry... Tune in to: Ninja Weasle and the Blanket of Infinite Doom! <a href="http://ninjaweaselblog.blog.co.uk/2006/03/04/title~612535/#comments">Comments</a> "You can NOT fall in love over the internet."
"Yes, you can. She is perfect, and my soulmate, and you're ruining a beautiful moment here!!!!!"
The Ninja Weasel was standing by his PC, which boasted the 'Cupid Has A Sense Of Humor' chat site. He was standing with the air of Napoleon on the far side of the Waterloo plain. Basically, a little desperate and a lot in denile... And The Blanket was an Englishman doing the Dance of Joy as the French troops were frantically deciding which road would get them gone quicker.
"Nerg..." Said The Blanket. "Come on, for all you know she could be a 400lb single mother of seven, who works as a telemarketer from her loungroom because she can't get out of her house for the Subway wrappers..."
"SHUT UP! I've seen her profile! She is a 90 pound cocktail waitress from Boston. She's at uni doing mass communication." He threw his nose up into the air.
"Um hm, right..." The Blanket said, hoping that it was the extreme lateness that was making Ninja declare undying affection for someone he'd IM'd for a week... "And your going to meet her outside WalMart on a saturday... and she'll be wearing the orange sweater? With the clowns on it?"
Ninja made a stony face... "I find it cute..."
"How cute will it be when you find she has a .32 strapped to her ankel and a mortage?"
Ninja turned The Blanket around forcefully and pushed him out the door. Theyw ere both staying at Ninja's house while his parents were in Tahoe visiting his grandma.
It was about 3am and Ninja had been talking to this woman, LadyKryptonite, since four in the afternoon. He was intending to get a few hours sleep and then meet her in town at the local WalMart.
The Blanket, after valiantly trying for sevral extra minutes to talk him out of it through the closed door, left the cyber lover to get his beauty sleep.
The Blanket heard him leave, a few hours later... and the smell of $5 aftershave spreading thickly through the whole house. The Blanket wondered mildly if, in the name of science.. he should test his theory... that you can't fall in love via the internet... by trying to fall in love over the interent himself?
So.. with trepidition, and an excitement known only to the likes of Einstein and Pavlov, The Blanket opened up a browser and started to get himself registered... On Cupid Has A Sense Of Humour.com

Will Ninja find his true love a fair maiden? Or Ms Shrek?
Will The Blanket prove or dissprove his hypothesis?
Tune in next time...
To Days Of Our Lives!
Oh, wait... sorry...
Tune in to: Ninja Weasle and the Blanket of Infinite Doom!

Comments

]]>Stop All The Clocks, Cut Off The Sakehttp://ninjaweaselblog.blog.co.uk/2006/01/30/stop_all_the_clocks_cut_off_the_sake~518146/2006-01-30T03:03:56+01:00 It was not, stricktly speaking, a traditional funeral. But, Uncle Lew and his buddies were not traditional boys... So, while his mates from the Tri-Villian Bowling league tied 'Get Well Soon' balloons to the coffin, Uncle Lew's brother Braddie played the M*A*SH theme, 'Suicide Is Painless', on his kazoo. Ninja had been wailing since he woke up. The Blanket, however, felt that if Uncle Lew had wanted him to cry then he would have left The Blanket his collection of stuffed roadkill hit by famous people(or at least their limos). The two friends sat down in a pair of vinal fold out chairs, eating what Uncle Lew's wife, Lolette, was calling the 'Wake Cake'. It was baked with love by Lew's sister Maple, and was triple choclate with mock cream, egg shell and anchovie filling, it had robins egg blue icing and fluro pink writing that read 'Happy Birthday Bernie'. In her spare time Maple liked to write letters to George Washington to complain about the Terrydaktyle in her pantry. The Blanket only hoped this completely mental loop-the-loop wasn't hereditary. "Why...sniff..do...snnnnnif...they call...scak...it a...shnort...wake." Nija blew his nose loudly and stuffed some more cake into his mouth. "I mean.. he obviously isn't a-wake, is he." That stared a whole new round of wailing and blubbering. The Blanket sighed and, leaving his half eaten slice of Birthday cake on the seat, in a fervent hope that someone would either sit on it or eat it, he snuck off to find Earnest The Rather Malevolent Chipmunk of Impending Ruin. He didn't have to look far... Ernest was playing bad air guitar to 'My Sharona' atop the coffin. The Blanket could only surmise that the Chipmunk had partaken of the 'Super Memorial Sake Festival' which Lew's buddies had organised in the men's bathroom. The Blanket could have gone into a fit of post post-mortem rage, grabbed the Chipmuck off his Uncle's final resting box, and beat himsenseless with his imaginary guitar. But instead, The Blanket realized that this was what Uncle Lew would have wanted. So, he grabbed a bottle of Sake off the nearest spandex-wearing reveller, downed the entire half-bottle in a few swigs, and crawled up next to Ernest to do a duet of 'Highway to Hell'. If he'd have known that right at that moment, Ninja was asking Lew's neighbour's daughter her cup size, he might have needed another bottle of sake... Or a shotgun. <a href="http://ninjaweaselblog.blog.co.uk/2006/01/30/stop_all_the_clocks_cut_off_the_sake~518146/#comments">Comments</a> It was not, stricktly speaking, a traditional funeral.
But, Uncle Lew and his buddies were not traditional boys...
So, while his mates from the Tri-Villian Bowling league tied 'Get Well Soon' balloons to the coffin, Uncle Lew's brother Braddie played the M*A*SH theme, 'Suicide Is Painless', on his kazoo.
Ninja had been wailing since he woke up. The Blanket, however, felt that if Uncle Lew had wanted him to cry then he would have left The Blanket his collection of stuffed roadkill hit by famous people(or at least their limos).
The two friends sat down in a pair of vinal fold out chairs, eating what Uncle Lew's wife, Lolette, was calling the 'Wake Cake'. It was baked with love by Lew's sister Maple, and was triple choclate with mock cream, egg shell and anchovie filling, it had robins egg blue icing and fluro pink writing that read 'Happy Birthday Bernie'. In her spare time Maple liked to write letters to George Washington to complain about the Terrydaktyle in her pantry. The Blanket only hoped this completely mental loop-the-loop wasn't hereditary.
"Why...sniff..do...snnnnnif...they call...scak...it a...shnort...wake." Nija blew his nose loudly and stuffed some more cake into his mouth. "I mean.. he obviously isn't a-wake, is he." That stared a whole new round of wailing and blubbering.
The Blanket sighed and, leaving his half eaten slice of Birthday cake on the seat, in a fervent hope that someone would either sit on it or eat it, he snuck off to find Earnest The Rather Malevolent Chipmunk of Impending Ruin.
He didn't have to look far... Ernest was playing bad air guitar to 'My Sharona' atop the coffin. The Blanket could only surmise that the Chipmunk had partaken of the 'Super Memorial Sake Festival' which Lew's buddies had organised in the men's bathroom. The Blanket could have gone into a fit of post post-mortem rage, grabbed the Chipmuck off his Uncle's final resting box, and beat himsenseless with his imaginary guitar.
But instead, The Blanket realized that this was what Uncle Lew would have wanted. So, he grabbed a bottle of Sake off the nearest spandex-wearing reveller, downed the entire half-bottle in a few swigs, and crawled up next to Ernest to do a duet of 'Highway to Hell'.
If he'd have known that right at that moment, Ninja was asking Lew's neighbour's daughter her cup size, he might have needed another bottle of sake...
Or a shotgun.

Comments

]]>Of Tent Poles and Ornamental Duckshttp://ninjaweaselblog.blog.co.uk/2006/01/27/of_tent_poles_and_ornamental_ducks~509447/2006-01-27T01:11:10+01:00 "I want to get a cat." Ninja's voice was disembodied, since his body was fortressed inside a sleeping bag which was pulled tightly over his head. As many times as The Blanket had explained that the shadow on their tent was from a low hanging branch, Ninja was concvince, after one too many episodes of Supernatural, that it was a skin eating monster of some kind. So The Blanket sat up and ate crisps and tried to console and distract him as was best possible when the person your consoling and distracting keeps praying to a different god for salvation every ten minutes... "A cat?" the Blanket threw a Salt and Vinegar packet away and moved in on the Chiken flavoured ones. "Must I reminde you what happened to the goldfish? Your mum still can't get the smell out of the carpet..." "Buth I than't be an efil geniush wothout a that." Said the the sleeping bag. The Blanket had become fluent in this language,by nessecity. It happened every time they went camping... "Are you an evil genius, though? I mean, minus the cat?" Ninja popped out of the bag and frowned. "Well, duh... who else tries to take over the world?" The Blanket shrugged. "Some would say George Bush. And he ain't no genius..." He passed the bag of chips to Ninja. "Well...hehe... yeah." Ninja stuffed his nose in the bag and made a scarfing sound. The Blanket opened a new packet... "Well, let's test you, ok? Do you enjoy threatening and or killing sauve British intelligence agents with outlandish schemes and pretty blond women?" Ninja pulled his head out of the foil bag. "Um, no. Sounds like a lot of effort." "Hum... Ok. Do you intend to live on an island and shave your head?" Ninja threw the chip packet at The Blanket's head. "No! Chicks dig my hair..." He made a hair model flick and made his sexy face. Suddenly The Blanket had lost his appetite. "Ok, well, when you do take over the worl, do you want to populate it with evil minions who cause havoc, pain and suffering to all amn kind?" Ninja thought about this for a second. "Just mean people?" "No, everyone..." Ninja's eyes widened. "Even puppies!!" The Blanket sighed. "That settles it, you are not an evil genius." Ninja frowned deeply. "Then why am I taking over the world?" "Who says you have to be evil to take over the world? I mean, if being evil actually helped you take over the world, Dr. No or Barbara Streisen would have done it ages ago." The Blanket heard the house door open and his mother come out. Ninja pondered that point. "Your right. I'm a... what's the opposite of evil?" Should his mother not have popped her head in right at that moment, sending Ninja into a skin eating demon frenzy again, The Blanket seriosuly felt like something unpleasent would have happened... "Honey, I need to tell you two something..."She knelt down between the two of them and said "It's about Uncle Lew..." Uncle Lew. Uncle Lew was The Blanket's crazy old uncle, and Ninja's crazy old godfather... He sat in his front garden all day, dressed in a blue ducky robe, smoking a bubble pipe, yelling 'Ahoy there!' to people on the footpath and feeding his ornamental ducks with M&M's. But in his day, Uncle Lew had been this close to taking over the world. He was known as 'The Towel of Impending Calamity'. And his name shook fear through the hearts of other super hero's and villians alike. Uncle Lew used to sit Ninja and The Blanket on his knee and regail them with stories of lazers and missiles, and, when neither of their mothers were around, very very cheeky women who wore spandex... Now, Uncle Lew was dead... <a href="http://ninjaweaselblog.blog.co.uk/2006/01/27/of_tent_poles_and_ornamental_ducks~509447/#comments">Comments</a> "I want to get a cat." Ninja's voice was disembodied, since his body was fortressed inside a sleeping bag which was pulled tightly over his head. As many times as The Blanket had explained that the shadow on their tent was from a low hanging branch, Ninja was concvince, after one too many episodes of Supernatural, that it was a skin eating monster of some kind. So The Blanket sat up and ate crisps and tried to console and distract him as was best possible when the person your consoling and distracting keeps praying to a different god for salvation every ten minutes...
"A cat?" the Blanket threw a Salt and Vinegar packet away and moved in on the Chiken flavoured ones. "Must I reminde you what happened to the goldfish? Your mum still can't get the smell out of the carpet..."
"Buth I than't be an efil geniush wothout a that." Said the the sleeping bag. The Blanket had become fluent in this language,by nessecity. It happened every time they went camping...
"Are you an evil genius, though? I mean, minus the cat?"
Ninja popped out of the bag and frowned. "Well, duh... who else tries to take over the world?"
The Blanket shrugged. "Some would say George Bush. And he ain't no genius..." He passed the bag of chips to Ninja.
"Well...hehe... yeah." Ninja stuffed his nose in the bag and made a scarfing sound. The Blanket opened a new packet...
"Well, let's test you, ok? Do you enjoy threatening and or killing sauve British intelligence agents with outlandish schemes and pretty blond women?"
Ninja pulled his head out of the foil bag. "Um, no. Sounds like a lot of effort."
"Hum... Ok. Do you intend to live on an island and shave your head?"
Ninja threw the chip packet at The Blanket's head. "No! Chicks dig my hair..." He made a hair model flick and made his sexy face.
Suddenly The Blanket had lost his appetite.
"Ok, well, when you do take over the worl, do you want to populate it with evil minions who cause havoc, pain and suffering to all amn kind?"
Ninja thought about this for a second. "Just mean people?"
"No, everyone..."
Ninja's eyes widened. "Even puppies!!"
The Blanket sighed. "That settles it, you are not an evil genius."
Ninja frowned deeply. "Then why am I taking over the world?"
"Who says you have to be evil to take over the world? I mean, if being evil actually helped you take over the world, Dr. No or Barbara Streisen would have done it ages ago." The Blanket heard the house door open and his mother come out.
Ninja pondered that point. "Your right. I'm a... what's the opposite of evil?"
Should his mother not have popped her head in right at that moment, sending Ninja into a skin eating demon frenzy again, The Blanket seriosuly felt like something unpleasent would have happened...
"Honey, I need to tell you two something..."She knelt down between the two of them and said "It's about Uncle Lew..."

Uncle Lew. Uncle Lew was The Blanket's crazy old uncle, and Ninja's crazy old godfather... He sat in his front garden all day, dressed in a blue ducky robe, smoking a bubble pipe, yelling 'Ahoy there!' to people on the footpath and feeding his ornamental ducks with M&M's.
But in his day, Uncle Lew had been this close to taking over the world. He was known as 'The Towel of Impending Calamity'. And his name shook fear through the hearts of other super hero's and villians alike.
Uncle Lew used to sit Ninja and The Blanket on his knee and regail them with stories of lazers and missiles, and, when neither of their mothers were around, very very cheeky women who wore spandex...
Now, Uncle Lew was dead...

Comments

]]>What The Blanket Did Nexthttp://ninjaweaselblog.blog.co.uk/2005/10/06/what_the_blanket_did_next~219756/2005-10-06T16:34:37+02:00 It was three am. Generally the time all good blankets were sound asleep in bed. Which meant that The Blanket was probably a very good Blanket, being he had been in bed asleep since 9:30pm. He was all snuggly and happy and was dreaming about having a rotary hook exchanger for the Machine. This was his first night of solid, deep sleep in a week. You know that this can't last long, right? The sound of rocks tapping aginst his window roused The Blanket from his slumber. He dragged himself out of bed top his window and shoved it open. A rock few into the open window missing The Blanket's head by a facial hair... He didn't even blink. He didn't see the point. "You are scary." Said The Blanket, a yawn dragging out the last syllable of scary into some kind of boogie manster noise. "No, I'm odd. If I knew where Jessica Alba lived, then I could be scary..." The Ninja Weasle was dressed head to toe in French cat burglar attire, with a bunch of fair sized rocks in one hand and a what looked suspiciously like a set of binoculars in the other. The Blanket shook his head and slumped against the window sill. "What time is it?" "Time to get up and smell the hottie!!!" I hope he doesn't mean that literaly, was The Blanket's only thought. "Have you been taking your infrared binoculars for a walk again?" He said tiredly. Ninja looked sheepish. "Maybe." "And what did you 'maybe' come across that you had to get me to see at... 3AM!!! Jesus Ninja...!" "Holly Anderson posing nude for her boyfriends year twelve art project?" He sounded smug. The Blanket glared down at Ninja. "I hate you." Ninja smiled. "I'm not too fond of you either. Now get your caboose down here." The Blanket felt that he had two options: he could go down there and strangle the little weasle, or he could go back to bed. Since strangulation took effort, The Blanket simply, and without a word, closed his window and slouched back to bed. "Come on..." The Blanket put a pillow over his head to drown out Ninja's plaintive crys of 'but she's really hot and your missing it!' Which was quickly followed by a shriek that was a cross between heart-squishing fear and a prom queen seeing the tiara... Which meant that Ninja had either hit himself with a rock or... The Blanket stuck his head up out of the mass of linens andstrained his ears. There was the faint sound of 'Aaaaaahhhhh!!!' and what sounded like a rhino line-dancing. The Blanket dragged himself to the window and stuck his head out. "Hi Earnest..." The Rather Malevolent Chipmunk of Impending Ruin lowered the rocket launcher from its aim at a retreating weasle ass and peered up through half moon glasses at The Blanket. 'Ah, hullo, old mate! Wake you did I?" The Blanket made a kind of limp 'Meh' gesture. "Nope. Ninja got to me already. Hows everything?" Earnest pushed his glasses up with one finger and shrugged. "My thesis is 30000 words and I have only 5000 so far. Science camp was rather boring, I must admit. Too rowdy this year." He leaned forward like he was about to impart a great secret. "They were drinking wine at 4pm." He made a distainful face. "And singing. The Phantom of the Opera was not meant to be performed by twenty slightly drunken astrophysicists and eleven bio-engineers..." He gave a shudder. "I can begin to describe it..." Please don't, thought The Blanket. While Earnest was a great guy, he was aterribly snob and was the kind of guy who was a wonderful friend, as long as you only had to wave to him from a great distance. As the Blanket half-listened to Earnest talk about whatever The New Scientist had published on the front page, he began to wonder about what jhis new invention would be. The Blanket had been working on it for some time. He was stumped. Maybe a machine that wakes you up at 3am until you die of tiredness or annoyance, either way. Or maybe one that whines to you about classical music and the superiority of one smelly cheese over another until you take your own life... Maybe one that sews the mouths of annoying friends shut on site. The Blanket leant against the window sill and just as Earnest began a tirade about the benifits of reverse engineering, he smiled a silly little far off smile, meant for a land where sleep was at least 19 hours long and Chimpmunks were refused access to culture of any kind... <a href="http://ninjaweaselblog.blog.co.uk/2005/10/06/what_the_blanket_did_next~219756/#comments">Comments</a> It was three am. Generally the time all good blankets were sound asleep in bed.
Which meant that The Blanket was probably a very good Blanket, being he had been in bed asleep since 9:30pm.
He was all snuggly and happy and was dreaming about having a rotary hook exchanger for the Machine. This was his first night of solid, deep sleep in a week.
You know that this can't last long, right?
The sound of rocks tapping aginst his window roused The Blanket from his slumber. He dragged himself out of bed top his window and shoved it open.
A rock few into the open window missing The Blanket's head by a facial hair... He didn't even blink. He didn't see the point.
"You are scary." Said The Blanket, a yawn dragging out the last syllable of scary into some kind of boogie manster noise.
"No, I'm odd. If I knew where Jessica Alba lived, then I could be scary..."
The Ninja Weasle was dressed head to toe in French cat burglar attire, with a bunch of fair sized rocks in one hand and a what looked suspiciously like a set of binoculars in the other.
The Blanket shook his head and slumped against the window sill. "What time is it?"
"Time to get up and smell the hottie!!!"
I hope he doesn't mean that literaly, was The Blanket's only thought.
"Have you been taking your infrared binoculars for a walk again?" He said tiredly.
Ninja looked sheepish. "Maybe."
"And what did you 'maybe' come across that you had to get me to see at... 3AM!!! Jesus Ninja...!"
"Holly Anderson posing nude for her boyfriends year twelve art project?" He sounded smug.
The Blanket glared down at Ninja. "I hate you."
Ninja smiled. "I'm not too fond of you either. Now get your caboose down here."
The Blanket felt that he had two options: he could go down there and strangle the little weasle, or he could go back to bed. Since strangulation took effort, The Blanket simply, and without a word, closed his window and slouched back to bed.
"Come on..."
The Blanket put a pillow over his head to drown out Ninja's plaintive crys of 'but she's really hot and your missing it!'
Which was quickly followed by a shriek that was a cross between heart-squishing fear and a prom queen seeing the tiara...
Which meant that Ninja had either hit himself with a rock or...
The Blanket stuck his head up out of the mass of linens andstrained his ears.
There was the faint sound of 'Aaaaaahhhhh!!!' and what sounded like a rhino line-dancing. The Blanket dragged himself to the window and stuck his head out. "Hi Earnest..."
The Rather Malevolent Chipmunk of Impending Ruin lowered the rocket launcher from its aim at a retreating weasle ass and peered up through half moon glasses at The Blanket. 'Ah, hullo, old mate! Wake you did I?"
The Blanket made a kind of limp 'Meh' gesture. "Nope. Ninja got to me already. Hows everything?"
Earnest pushed his glasses up with one finger and shrugged. "My thesis is 30000 words and I have only 5000 so far. Science camp was rather boring, I must admit. Too rowdy this year." He leaned forward like he was about to impart a great secret. "They were drinking wine at 4pm." He made a distainful face. "And singing. The Phantom of the Opera was not meant to be performed by twenty slightly drunken astrophysicists and eleven bio-engineers..." He gave a shudder. "I can begin to describe it..."
Please don't, thought The Blanket. While Earnest was a great guy, he was aterribly snob and was the kind of guy who was a wonderful friend, as long as you only had to wave to him from a great distance.
As the Blanket half-listened to Earnest talk about whatever The New Scientist had published on the front page, he began to wonder about what jhis new invention would be. The Blanket had been working on it for some time. He was stumped. Maybe a machine that wakes you up at 3am until you die of tiredness or annoyance, either way. Or maybe one that whines to you about classical music and the superiority of one smelly cheese over another until you take your own life...
Maybe one that sews the mouths of annoying friends shut on site.
The Blanket leant against the window sill and just as Earnest began a tirade about the benifits of reverse engineering, he smiled a silly little far off smile, meant for a land where sleep was at least 19 hours long and Chimpmunks were refused access to culture of any kind...

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]]>What Becomes Of The Broken Hearted?http://ninjaweaselblog.blog.co.uk/2005/10/02/what_becomes_of_the_broken_hearted~211860/2005-10-02T02:15:23+02:00 It was like watching a nature documentary, without that annoying British guy narrating. 'It' was Ninja, being spectacularly shot down by Tracy Gruber. It was slightly pathetic. A lot like watching an annoying puppy get kicked. Its sad, but you've often felt like doing it yourself. "Um, Tracy?" (not the best start) "Yeah?" She glanced at him and went back to her burger. "Um, I was wondering, you know, if, like, like you had time, or if you'd want to, you know..." (oh lord) "No,Poindexter, I don't know. I don't even think you know." She took out a compact and started scrutinising her hair from various angles. "Hahehaha..." The Blanket cut Ninja's nervous laughathon off with a sharp cough. "Oh? Oh. Um, yeah, well, I was wondering if you might like to go out sometime. With me. Together. You know, like... like a d-d-d-date." He cringed like he was about to be beaten about the head with a magically appearing, disembodied baguette. Tracy turned and stared at him. The Blanket held his breath. For some reason the emotional well-being of his tiny mammal friend was important to him, despite the abscence of any sincere thoughts for The Blanket on Ninja's behalf. Tracy stared a little more. The Blanket wondered if she was in shock or if this was just her natural processing speed. "Ok. I'll say this once and once only, Geek boy. If you and I were the last humans on the earth planet and you'd discovered shampoo and breath mints I would still say fuck off. Loser." She turned back to her lunch, which The Blanket now ferverently praying would give her cellulite up to wazoo. But he had mre serious problems than finding a way to convince his God to afflict some chicks ass. He had to go find Ninja. Who had done a 30 second mile getting out of the cafe. The Blanket sighed, picked up his books and followed at a much slower pace. "God, why didn't you grant me better friends? What did I ever do to you?" He whispered. "I'm not coming out." "You have class in an hour..." "In an hour I'll be dead." "Ninja..." "NO! I'm going to slash my wrists." "Your in a university toilet. What are you going to use? Alcohol abuse pamplets? Death by a thousand paper cuts?" "This is not funny." Actually, it was. "I know. But its her loss and..." The Blanket was cut off by a loud wail, like hearing a pre-pubescent sea lion singing Celine Dion. He sighed. This was going to take a while. And if Ninja didn't come out soon, he only had two options. 1. Leave him in the blasted toilet to sulk and go to their Anthropology class alone, at which point Gina woudld descend on him like a hawk in heavy make-up. or 2. Kill himself. At least then he'd get some quiet. And hell, how bad could death be? Compared to Ninja, death might be a resort holiday with coconut drinks with umbrellas in them. "It just hurts so much. I can't breath, Blanket, I feel like I can't breath!" The Blanket sighed again. It was becoming his hobby. "Ninja, firstly, that is a line from Buffy. And secondly, if your going to die over a girl, can you make it one who isn't a gum popping skank?" The stall door crashed open and Ninja launched himself out at The Blanket like a little hairy, tear soaked missile. Unfortunatly, for Ninja at least, he misjudged The Blanket's possition and crashed into a hand basin. The Blanket bent over him, as he altered between sobbing and moaning loudly. "I'll call an ambulance." The drive to the hospital was uneventful, unless you count Ninja asking for a scalpel to dig his heart out with from the ambo. The waiting room lived up to its name, being that the two of them waited for nearly two hours before they got an examination room all of their own. And a nurse that gave Angelina Jolie a run for her money. As the Blanket sat in the hall he heard, faintly the words "Um, I was wondering, you know, if, like, like you had time, or if you'd want to, you know..." <a href="http://ninjaweaselblog.blog.co.uk/2005/10/02/what_becomes_of_the_broken_hearted~211860/#comments">Comments</a> It was like watching a nature documentary, without that annoying British guy narrating. 'It' was Ninja, being spectacularly shot down by Tracy Gruber.
It was slightly pathetic. A lot like watching an annoying puppy get kicked. Its sad, but you've often felt like doing it yourself.

"Um, Tracy?" (not the best start)
"Yeah?" She glanced at him and went back to her burger.
"Um, I was wondering, you know, if, like, like you had time, or if you'd want to, you know..." (oh lord)
"No,Poindexter, I don't know. I don't even think you know." She took out a compact and started scrutinising her hair from various angles.
"Hahehaha..." The Blanket cut Ninja's nervous laughathon off with a sharp cough. "Oh? Oh. Um, yeah, well, I was wondering if you might like to go out sometime. With me. Together. You know, like... like a d-d-d-date." He cringed like he was about to be beaten about the head with a magically appearing, disembodied baguette. Tracy turned and stared at him.
The Blanket held his breath. For some reason the emotional well-being of his tiny mammal friend was important to him, despite the abscence of any sincere thoughts for The Blanket on Ninja's behalf.
Tracy stared a little more. The Blanket wondered if she was in shock or if this was just her natural processing speed.
"Ok. I'll say this once and once only, Geek boy. If you and I were the last humans on the earth planet and you'd discovered shampoo and breath mints I would still say fuck off. Loser." She turned back to her lunch, which The Blanket now ferverently praying would give her cellulite up to wazoo. But he had mre serious problems than finding a way to convince his God to afflict some chicks ass. He had to go find Ninja. Who had done a 30 second mile getting out of the cafe.
The Blanket sighed, picked up his books and followed at a much slower pace. "God, why didn't you grant me better friends? What did I ever do to you?" He whispered.

"I'm not coming out."
"You have class in an hour..."
"In an hour I'll be dead."
"Ninja..."
"NO! I'm going to slash my wrists."
"Your in a university toilet. What are you going to use? Alcohol abuse pamplets? Death by a thousand paper cuts?"
"This is not funny."
Actually, it was. "I know. But its her loss and..."
The Blanket was cut off by a loud wail, like hearing a pre-pubescent sea lion singing Celine Dion. He sighed. This was going to take a while.
And if Ninja didn't come out soon, he only had two options.
1. Leave him in the blasted toilet to sulk and go to their Anthropology class alone, at which point Gina woudld descend on him like a hawk in heavy make-up.

2. Kill himself. At least then he'd get some quiet. And hell, how bad could death be? Compared to Ninja, death might be a resort holiday with coconut drinks with umbrellas in them.

"It just hurts so much. I can't breath, Blanket, I feel like I can't breath!"

The Blanket sighed again. It was becoming his hobby. "Ninja, firstly, that is a line from Buffy. And secondly, if your going to die over a girl, can you make it one who isn't a gum popping skank?"
The stall door crashed open and Ninja launched himself out at The Blanket like a little hairy, tear soaked missile. Unfortunatly, for Ninja at least, he misjudged The Blanket's possition and crashed into a hand basin. The Blanket bent over him, as he altered between sobbing and moaning loudly. "I'll call an ambulance."
The drive to the hospital was uneventful, unless you count Ninja asking for a scalpel to dig his heart out with from the ambo. The waiting room lived up to its name, being that the two of them waited for nearly two hours before they got an examination room all of their own. And a nurse that gave Angelina Jolie a run for her money.
As the Blanket sat in the hall he heard, faintly the words "Um, I was wondering, you know, if, like, like you had time, or if you'd want to, you know..."

Comments

]]>Sex, Gramma and Bankruptcyhttp://ninjaweaselblog.blog.co.uk/2005/09/12/title~176032/2005-09-12T08:04:17+02:00 What with the fact that Vegas was clean on the other side of the continent, and that our heros had spent a majority of their Evil Funds on not jumping out of a plane, the planned kidnapping sort of... fell through. Which meant that on Monday Ninja was considerably angry at the world, more than was usual for a Monday at least. University was giving him an extensive vocabularly with which to verbally bash the living beans out of the entire institution. Which was driving The Blanket crazy, because Ninja was miss-using each and every single word over two syllables long... "This place is highly idiosyncratic." Said Ninja, throwing his nose in the air and glaring at a passing arts student. "The uni is eccentric?" Said The Blanket, quite dubiously. "No, the uni is dumb, it stupid. Its idiosyncratic." Ninja rolled his eyes at The Blanket's obviously lack of culture. "Idiosyncartic means to have an eccentric, or peculiar habit. The word your looking for is idiotic." Ninja huffed out a sullen breath. "You're such a pragmatist..." "Actually I'm more aptly a..." The Blanket let the sentence fade out as he watched Ninja begin to drool on his text book. Ninja was watching Tracy from Applied Science shake her tightly clad ass across the quad. "Sigh." Said Ninja. The Blanket didn't quite understand Ninja's fascination with the woman. She was shallow and skanky, she could hardly construct a coherent sentence and she listened to Simple Plan nonstop on her IPod, which in itself told The Blanket she had all the taste of a dung beetle. But today was the day Ninja had sworn that he was going to ask her out. So The Blanket was in supportive best friend mode, with a side helping of distaste and a healthy serve of boredom. The only question now was if Ninja, the self-proclamed king of the ladies, would have the stones to actually do it. The Blanket doubted it. <a href="http://ninjaweaselblog.blog.co.uk/2005/09/12/title~176032/#comments">Comments</a> What with the fact that Vegas was clean on the other side of the continent, and that our heros had spent a majority of their Evil Funds on not jumping out of a plane, the planned kidnapping sort of... fell through.
Which meant that on Monday Ninja was considerably angry at the world, more than was usual for a Monday at least. University was giving him an extensive vocabularly with which to verbally bash the living beans out of the entire institution. Which was driving The Blanket crazy, because Ninja was miss-using each and every single word over two syllables long...
"This place is highly idiosyncratic." Said Ninja, throwing his nose in the air and glaring at a passing arts student.
"The uni is eccentric?" Said The Blanket, quite dubiously.
"No, the uni is dumb, it stupid. Its idiosyncratic." Ninja rolled his eyes at The Blanket's obviously lack of culture.
"Idiosyncartic means to have an eccentric, or peculiar habit. The word your looking for is idiotic."
Ninja huffed out a sullen breath. "You're such a pragmatist..."
"Actually I'm more aptly a..." The Blanket let the sentence fade out as he watched Ninja begin to drool on his text book.
Ninja was watching Tracy from Applied Science shake her tightly clad ass across the quad. "Sigh." Said Ninja.
The Blanket didn't quite understand Ninja's fascination with the woman. She was shallow and skanky, she could hardly construct a coherent sentence and she listened to Simple Plan nonstop on her IPod, which in itself told The Blanket she had all the taste of a dung beetle.
But today was the day Ninja had sworn that he was going to ask her out. So The Blanket was in supportive best friend mode, with a side helping of distaste and a healthy serve of boredom.
The only question now was if Ninja, the self-proclamed king of the ladies, would have the stones to actually do it.
The Blanket doubted it.

Comments

]]>Viva Las Vegas... and Michiganhttp://ninjaweaselblog.blog.co.uk/2005/09/09/viva_las_vegas_and_michigan~170784/2005-09-09T10:55:42+02:00 The Ninja Weasle's newest plan to take over the world went a little something like this... During a timly power outtage in Las Vegas, Ninja and The Blanket kidnap Wanye Newton, pronouncing that unless control of the state of Nevada is passed to their control Newton will never sing again. The Blanket sighed. "That could be considered a good thing." Ninja glared at him. "Possibly a better idea would be to force the state of Nevada to listen to him sing endlessly unless we take control of said state." "Ummm...well...." "And why are we taking control of Nevada anyway?" Said the Blanket, slightly muffled inside of his sky diving suit. Which, incidently, was not meant to be taken off over the head... "Why not Washington? Or New York?" He finally dissentangled himself from the suit, launching it clean across the aeroplane hanger. This earnt him a glare from the owner. The Blanket blushed a shade of red that did nothing for its tartan complexion... "Nevada because we can tax the casinos heavily for funds to take over Michigan." Ninja said. The Blanket didn't really want to ask."Why Michigan?" Ninja shrugged. "It produces all those cars... thought we could get our own Bat mobile or something." Th Blanket sighed, not for the first or last time that hour. "Perhaps we could not name it the Bat mobile? If we really have to have a mobile at all could we name it the Doom mobile?" Ninja folded his arms and pouted. "Why are we naming it after you?" "Because neither of us are bats persay, plus I'm bound to be the one who designs it, cleans it , pays for registration and who drives you home in it when your drunk." Ninja suddenly found his shoes particularly interesting. This was either because he was slightly embarrassed or because his mum had cleaned them yesterday and you could actually tell what colour they were... "Fine.The Doom Mobile." Ninja secretly thought they should have named it just The Mobile. His dad always used to say that less was more. He watched The Blanket being marched over to pick up his suit. The Ninja shook his head sadly. And when it came to The Blanket, less was almost too much... <a href="http://ninjaweaselblog.blog.co.uk/2005/09/09/viva_las_vegas_and_michigan~170784/#comments">Comments</a> The Ninja Weasle's newest plan to take over the world went a little something like this...
During a timly power outtage in Las Vegas, Ninja and The Blanket kidnap Wanye Newton, pronouncing that unless control of the state of Nevada is passed to their control Newton will never sing again.
The Blanket sighed. "That could be considered a good thing."
Ninja glared at him.
"Possibly a better idea would be to force the state of Nevada to listen to him sing endlessly unless we take control of said state."
"Ummm...well...."
"And why are we taking control of Nevada anyway?" Said the Blanket, slightly muffled inside of his sky diving suit. Which, incidently, was not meant to be taken off over the head... "Why not Washington? Or New York?" He finally dissentangled himself from the suit, launching it clean across the aeroplane hanger. This earnt him a glare from the owner. The Blanket blushed a shade of red that did nothing for its tartan complexion...
"Nevada because we can tax the casinos heavily for funds to take over Michigan." Ninja said.
The Blanket didn't really want to ask."Why Michigan?"
Ninja shrugged. "It produces all those cars... thought we could get our own Bat mobile or something."
Th Blanket sighed, not for the first or last time that hour. "Perhaps we could not name it the Bat mobile? If we really have to have a mobile at all could we name it the Doom mobile?"
Ninja folded his arms and pouted. "Why are we naming it after you?"
"Because neither of us are bats persay, plus I'm bound to be the one who designs it, cleans it , pays for registration and who drives you home in it when your drunk."
Ninja suddenly found his shoes particularly interesting. This was either because he was slightly embarrassed or because his mum had cleaned them yesterday and you could actually tell what colour they were...
"Fine.The Doom Mobile." Ninja secretly thought they should have named it just The Mobile. His dad always used to say that less was more. He watched The Blanket being marched over to pick up his suit. The Ninja shook his head sadly. And when it came to The Blanket, less was almost too much...

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]]>Blanket in the Sky with Reservationshttp://ninjaweaselblog.blog.co.uk/2005/09/01/title~155350/2005-09-01T09:26:10+02:00 Skydiving. The Blanket decided that even the name was not appealing. Being that it had a 'y' in it and two 'i's'. Ninja was, however, revelling in the pre-skydivingness of being up in a plane way too far from the planet earth. In other words: Ninja's idea of fun was thrilling things... and today skydiving fell into that category. "I am not hurling myself out of a plane in the general direction very firm terra firma." Said The Blanket. This earnt him an eye roll and not much else. "No earthly power is going to get me out of this plane." He tried. "My boot?" The sentiment behind this particular statement was enough to quiet The Blanket somewhat. At least to a soft indignation and a gentle whinge, which was a great relief for Ninja. There was only so much this Evil Genius could stand before he jumped out of the plane, straped to a parashute or not. "I don't see why your spending our Evil Funds on extravagant suicide missions..." The Blanket was trying reason, since bitching and crying had not gotten him very far. "Training!" Pronounced Ninja, stabbing the air with one little finger, looking a lot to the Blanket like a short Facist dictator in spandex... "It is certain that we will eventually need to pull a stormtrooper deal on one of our Evil Plots." "Yeeeees. I can see where your coming from." The Blanket grudgingly admitted. "Still, I find this all a little dangerous.Can't we just hire proffessionals, should we need stormtrooperness?" He tried his best puppy dog look. "Your jumping out of this plane." Ninja looked at The Blanket with the look he got when he was about to arm wrestle his little brother for the last piece of pizza. The Blanket knew that look. And he knew then that he was jumping out of the plane... "Fine." The Blanket crossed his arms. "I''ll just go listen to my cheerful death song shall I?" Ninja sighed. If The Blanket fell out the open door on accident without a parashute it wouldn't really be murder. Right? He opened his mouth to say something earth-shattering and philosophical about the shortness of life and how it linked to skydiving and shutting the hell up. But just at this moment Ninja's cell phone went off. The ring tone was the car horn from the Dukes of Hazzard; and, not for the first time, The Blanket thought that if he ever got hold of that phone it was going into the nearest toilet. Ninja had a brief conversation with whomever was on the other end. He turned back to The Blanket. "Can't skydive today." He said. "Oh, bummer." The Blanket replied. "I know...Its a major bummer!" "You do understand the concept of sarcasm, don't you?" Ninja sighed. "We have to go back down." "Not like I'm looking a gift horse in the mouth our anything, but, um, why?" Ninja smiled an impossibly evil little smile. "Oh lord..." Said The Blanket. "Because its time to take over the world!" Ninja threw his arms in the air. The Blanket raised an eyebrow. "Are you waiting for trombones and trumpets and your own theme song, or for the makers of Pinky and The Brain to come kick your ass for plagerism?" Ninja's shoulder slumped and he emited a low humming sound that made The Blanket wonder if Ninja had suddenly been possed by the ghost of washing machines past. "Like I said." Ninja forced the words out through clenched teeth. "Its..time..to..take..over..the..world." "Plagarist." "ARRRGERAHHH!!!!!!" <a href="http://ninjaweaselblog.blog.co.uk/2005/09/01/title~155350/#comments">Comments</a> Skydiving.
The Blanket decided that even the name was not appealing. Being that it had a 'y' in it and two 'i's'. Ninja was, however, revelling in the pre-skydivingness of being up in a plane way too far from the planet earth. In other words: Ninja's idea of fun was thrilling things... and today skydiving fell into that category.
"I am not hurling myself out of a plane in the general direction very firm terra firma." Said The Blanket.
This earnt him an eye roll and not much else.
"No earthly power is going to get me out of this plane." He tried.
"My boot?" The sentiment behind this particular statement was enough to quiet The Blanket somewhat. At least to a soft indignation and a gentle whinge, which was a great relief for Ninja. There was only so much this Evil Genius could stand before he jumped out of the plane, straped to a parashute or not.
"I don't see why your spending our Evil Funds on extravagant suicide missions..." The Blanket was trying reason, since bitching and crying had not gotten him very far.
"Training!" Pronounced Ninja, stabbing the air with one little finger, looking a lot to the Blanket like a short Facist dictator in spandex... "It is certain that we will eventually need to pull a stormtrooper deal on one of our Evil Plots."
"Yeeeees. I can see where your coming from." The Blanket grudgingly admitted. "Still, I find this all a little dangerous.Can't we just hire proffessionals, should we need stormtrooperness?" He tried his best puppy dog look.
"Your jumping out of this plane." Ninja looked at The Blanket with the look he got when he was about to arm wrestle his little brother for the last piece of pizza.
The Blanket knew that look. And he knew then that he was jumping out of the plane...
"Fine." The Blanket crossed his arms. "I''ll just go listen to my cheerful death song shall I?"
Ninja sighed. If The Blanket fell out the open door on accident without a parashute it wouldn't really be murder. Right? He opened his mouth to say something earth-shattering and philosophical about the shortness of life and how it linked to skydiving and shutting the hell up. But just at this moment Ninja's cell phone went off. The ring tone was the car horn from the Dukes of Hazzard; and, not for the first time, The Blanket thought that if he ever got hold of that phone it was going into the nearest toilet.
Ninja had a brief conversation with whomever was on the other end. He turned back to The Blanket. "Can't skydive today." He said.
"Oh, bummer." The Blanket replied.
"I know...Its a major bummer!"
"You do understand the concept of sarcasm, don't you?"
Ninja sighed. "We have to go back down."
"Not like I'm looking a gift horse in the mouth our anything, but, um, why?"
Ninja smiled an impossibly evil little smile.
"Oh lord..." Said The Blanket.
"Because its time to take over the world!" Ninja threw his arms in the air.
The Blanket raised an eyebrow. "Are you waiting for trombones and trumpets and your own theme song, or for the makers of Pinky and The Brain to come kick your ass for plagerism?"
Ninja's shoulder slumped and he emited a low humming sound that made The Blanket wonder if Ninja had suddenly been possed by the ghost of washing machines past.
"Like I said." Ninja forced the words out through clenched teeth. "Its..time..to..take..over..the..world."
"Plagarist."
"ARRRGERAHHH!!!!!!"

Comments

]]>The Chronicals of the Ninja Weasle and the Blanket of Infinite Doom: It All Began With FUNhttp://ninjaweaselblog.blog.co.uk/2005/08/23/the_chronicals_of_the_ninja_weasle_and_t/2005-08-23T08:25:05+02:00 The Blanket of Infinite Doom(known to his parental guardians as Darren), was sad. This was not a new occurance. The Blanket was always sad. Ninja felt that it probably had something to do with being made of that polyester stuff; being itchy 24/7 probably didn't do wonders for you constitution. But, regarless of The Blanket's often gloomy outlook, Ninja always felt like he had to cheer him up. Which was not as easy as it sounded.He'd tried ice cream, darts with Jay Leno's face as the target, rude scrabble and Penthouse so far. It was not looking good. And while all the above activities were fun, trying to cheer up a blanket was not Ninja's idea of a great Sunday. "I will pay you to smile, just stop friggin SULKING, ok?" The Ninja Weasel was, at the time of this announcement, standing on The Blanket's mother's coffee table, raising his arms in despair like Noah finding out exactly how frisky rabbits are... The Blanket looked up. He stared at Ninja for a moment, as if trying to tell by the dimensions of his nose if Ninja had gone completely bonkers. Then he sighed. "You think everything is that easy, don't you?" Ninja's shoulders slumped and he sat down heavily on the table. "No, no I don't. When it comes to you, buddy old pal, I find that that is the last resort before I call on a higher power..." "Your an athiest." The Blanket said blandly. "Arrgerahhh!!" Said the Ninja Weasle, loudly and with conviction. "Keep it down Wendell..." The Blanket's mother called from the kitchen. "Sorry Mrs B." Ninja moved onto the sofa with The Blanket. "Listen.." He continued in a much softer voice, "Its Sunday.Tomorrow we go back to school. I just can't understand why you want to hang around and mope when we have limited freedome left." The Blanket sighed. Again. It was no use trying to explain it. How does one explain the malfunction of the Super-cathoderay Impulse Regulation Machine to someone who's idea of sciense was how they made beer? Answer? You don't... Ninja was the one with the burning desire to rule the world, and yet he seemed to think this was going to be accomplished by getting smashed in the garage and making weapons out of kebab skewers and selo tape. He did not seem to realize that taking over the world was a major effort. One that required a lot more than fancy costumes(not like their costumes weren't very pretty and breathable...). It required gizmos and plans and blueprints, maybe even some charts. And all this was placed on the delicate, and severly allergic to seven types of nuts, head of The Blanket. He sighed. Again. "Ok." The Blanket got up off the sofa and made and effort to look, if not 'The hills are alive with the sound of music' happy, then at least semi-unsulky. Ninja raised an eyebrow. "Ok, what?" "Let's go have fun." For The Blanket, fun was quantum level algebra and a book on Astrophysics and a cup of tea. The Ninja Weasle had other plans... <a href="http://ninjaweaselblog.blog.co.uk/2005/08/23/the_chronicals_of_the_ninja_weasle_and_t/#comments">Comments</a> The Blanket of Infinite Doom(known to his parental guardians as Darren), was sad.
This was not a new occurance. The Blanket was always sad. Ninja felt that it probably had something to do with being made of that polyester stuff; being itchy 24/7 probably didn't do wonders for you constitution. But, regarless of The Blanket's often gloomy outlook, Ninja always felt like he had to cheer him up.
Which was not as easy as it sounded.He'd tried ice cream, darts with Jay Leno's face as the target, rude scrabble and Penthouse so far. It was not looking good. And while all the above activities were fun, trying to cheer up a blanket was not Ninja's idea of a great Sunday.
"I will pay you to smile, just stop friggin SULKING, ok?" The Ninja Weasel was, at the time of this announcement, standing on The Blanket's mother's coffee table, raising his arms in despair like Noah finding out exactly how frisky rabbits are...
The Blanket looked up. He stared at Ninja for a moment, as if trying to tell by the dimensions of his nose if Ninja had gone completely bonkers.
Then he sighed. "You think everything is that easy, don't you?"
Ninja's shoulders slumped and he sat down heavily on the table. "No, no I don't. When it comes to you, buddy old pal, I find that that is the last resort before I call on a higher power..."
"Your an athiest." The Blanket said blandly.
"Arrgerahhh!!" Said the Ninja Weasle, loudly and with conviction.
"Keep it down Wendell..." The Blanket's mother called from the kitchen.
"Sorry Mrs B." Ninja moved onto the sofa with The Blanket. "Listen.." He continued in a much softer voice, "Its Sunday.Tomorrow we go back to school. I just can't understand why you want to hang around and mope when we have limited freedome left."
The Blanket sighed. Again. It was no use trying to explain it. How does one explain the malfunction of the Super-cathoderay Impulse Regulation Machine to someone who's idea of sciense was how they made beer? Answer? You don't... Ninja was the one with the burning desire to rule the world, and yet he seemed to think this was going to be accomplished by getting smashed in the garage and making weapons out of kebab skewers and selo tape. He did not seem to realize that taking over the world was a major effort. One that required a lot more than fancy costumes(not like their costumes weren't very pretty and breathable...). It required gizmos and plans and blueprints, maybe even some charts. And all this was placed on the delicate, and severly allergic to seven types of nuts, head of The Blanket. He sighed. Again.
"Ok." The Blanket got up off the sofa and made and effort to look, if not 'The hills are alive with the sound of music' happy, then at least semi-unsulky.
Ninja raised an eyebrow. "Ok, what?"
"Let's go have fun." For The Blanket, fun was quantum level algebra and a book on Astrophysics and a cup of tea.
The Ninja Weasle had other plans...

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