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Samurai

By: nasir6r on Jun 28th, 2012 | syntax: None | size: 8.26 KB | hits: 128 | expires: Never

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> You are the owner of a small, two floor house in the middle of suburbia
> You like cars, videogames, footie. The normal guy stuff.
> And samurai stuff
> Like, seriously.
> You love the old Kurosawa movies, especially those starring Toshiro Mifune
> You own almost all of them.
> You’ve made the upstairs into a small maze of makeshift sliding doors.
> When the weather permits, you sit in your backyard, which you’ve made into a miniature Zen garden, and drink tea while reading books on samurai, Japanese culture and the like.
> You even started doing kendo. You practice outside sometimes in the morning, weather permitting.
> You and your friends play the L5R cardgame and roleplaying game once in a while too.
> It’s not real Japanese samurai stuff, but eh, it’s neat.
> You even make some Japanese food.
> Your prized possession is a set of samurai swords, which cost you quite a lot of money.
> You wish you were a samurai. That would be so awesome.
> One Saturday morning, you rolled out of bed, and decided that you’d relax today.
> You’d get groceries and all that other assorted crap later.
> You were about to go enjoy the nice summer morning outside in your backyard, when you heard giggling.
> A ghost?
> Oh no.
> Fluffies. Loads and loads of fluffies, wandering around your backyard.
> A feral herd? Here? Of all places?
> You watch them for about ten seconds, gaping.
> One squats in your Zen garden and take a giant shit. “Big wittahbawks!” it chortles.
> Others are eating grass, getting into your flowers and chewing them all to hell.
> Oh for fuck sake!
> Some of them are getting into you’re your radishes and tomatoes!
> You promised mom you’d give her a few when they were ready to be picked.
> You are pissed. Utterly pissed.
> They drink from the little pool you dug.
> One just pissed on your Buddha statue.
> It. Is. On.
> You step outside through the sliding glass door.
> “Get outta my fuckin Zen garden!” you yell.
> They all freeze.
> A small, green Unicorn trots up to you and puffs out his cheeks
> “Dis pwace bewong to fwuffies now! Dum hooman weave or get big owwies!”
> You look around for a moment, counting the fluffies.
> Around fifty, you think.
> Then you spy the small hole in the fence they got through.
> Goddamn Uncle Donnie, can’t fix anything properly.
> Suddenly, you feel something warm and wet on your bare leg.
> You look down. The fucking Unicorn just shat on you!
> “Giv stoopid hooman sowwy poopies!” he proclaims, then barks a laugh before headbutting the exact same leg he shit on, smearing himself with his own excrement.
> Fuzzy little retard.
> “Sen gawdun bewong to hewd now!”
> Oh Christ, it reeks. You need to wash off your leg before you deal with these little fucks, so you step inside.
> All the fluffies continue mulling about, happy that their brave ‘smarty friend’ vanquished the human monster.
> As you wash your leg off in the bathroom, a thought dawns on you.
> You grin. You walk into your room and stare at your samurai swords.
> Outside, you can hear the fluffies laughing, playing, and occasionally, breaking something.
> It is time you avenged yourself.
> You tie your hair back into a tight top-knot.
> You put on some sandals.
> You put on your bathrobe, tie it tight around your waist and slip one of the samurai swords into your belt.
> You practice your voice a little bit, get it nice and deep with an exaggerated Japanese accent.
> Then, you step outside, scowling.
> “ooo stink rike dead baboon out here!” you say. You loved “Shadow Warrior”. Lo Wang was the best.
> All the fluffies puff their cheeks out, confident, you suspect, that if their smarty friend can drive you away, so can they.
> They all babble various threats at you. “Go ‘way ow get big owwies!”, “stoopid hooman no come heaw!” “giv skeeties or get sowwy poopies!”
> You take a deep breath, rip the katana out its sheath and scream “SIRENCE!”
> They all freeze. A few cry softly about the ‘sowwy stick’ you’re holding.
> They don’t now how sorry they will be.
> “Fruffies distloy my Zen gawden!” you say, trying your best to sound like that one samurai from ‘Red Sun’.
> “Fruffies aporogise fol this dishonoul!”
> The smarty emerges from the herd. “Nu! Smawty no afwaid of sowwy stick!”
> You stare at him, coldly.
> “Vewy well” you say.
> You lift the katana up, and scream at the top of your lungs
> “TENNOHEIKA BANZAI!”
> You rush into the idiot herd, and swing the sword down.
> There is a squeal as one of the fluffies falls over, half of its head missing and blood pouring from its exposed brain pan
> Immediately, they scatter, crying and babbling idiotically.
> Some try to escape through the little hole in the fence.
> Oh no they don’t.
>You bloke it with your nearby garbage can, and lay into the little vermin, swinging low and cutting off the legs of three fluffies with one long stroke
> “waahh! Why huwt!? Giv back weggies!” one of them cries
> Not only did it lose its legs, you think. It lost its honour.
> You dispatch it with a small jab and continue your glorious battle.
> You jump high and bring the katana down on a Unicorn.
> You are a tad surprised that you cut through its horn, as well as most of its body straight down the middle.
> But you collect yourself. You must focus! You are samurai!
> You sing the blade to your right in a horizontal arc. A pegagsus tries to duck out of the way. It does, but the stupid thing didn’t retract its wings
> They fall from its back like cherry blossoms.
> “KIAI!”
>You swing it back and take its legs and small fuzzy genitals out from underneath it. It screams.
> “nuuu! Speciaw pwace and weggies go ‘way!”
> You get up and quickly jab it.
> You start laying into the fluffballs in earnest now.
> You idly think this could be good practice- moving targets, making you time your swings.
> You shake your head.
> “humph!”
> Focus!
> You hack, slash and swipe through the herd, never letting them rest. They run, piss, scream and shit, unable to find their way out.
> The smell of fluffy blood is everywhere. It doesn’t smell as bad as their crap, thankfully.
> You bisect a pregnant mare. Her foals wiggle out of her, chirping.
> You gingerly kick them into the small pool.
> Fluffy foals drown.
> You stab an earth pony through its anus. Your blade comes out of its mouth.
> You fling it off without a second thought.
> One looks up with you with wide eyes and begins to wail.
> You take its lower jaw and tongue off with one stroke. It gargles the rest of its pathetic, shameful mewling before you kick it in the stomach, sending it into the side of your house.
> It ceases moving and making sounds.
> You turn around. Only one fluffy remains.
> The smarty friend.
> He cowers, sitting in a puddle of his own filth, crying
> “pwease…pwease…fwuffy sowwy…fwuffy weave pwease no sowwy stick”
> You lower your katana.
> He looks up.
> You speak to him in the same exaggerated voice.
> “You are shamfur fruffy. Say it.”
> He shakes his head “no ‘wan. No know wat dat means”
> You growl at him. He pees a little more.
> He disgusts you.
> “SHAMFUR DISPRAY!”
>You sever his head from his neck. It rolls a little ways, still blinking for a few seconds.
> His body pitches over.
> You flick the blood off of your katana, and slowly slide it back into its sheath.
> Just before it closes, you cut your thumb.
> “ow. Fuck.” You say in your normal voice.
----------
> Thankfully, the cut wasn’t deep. A bandaid fixed it.
> It took you a while to pick up all the corpses, though. You didn’t mind too much. Bits of the little bastards where strewn *everywhere*.
> Afterwards, you cleaned the Zen garden of fluffy filth and sat in your lawn chair, drinking green tea out of a cute little Japanese tea cup.
> On the table next to you was some sushi you picked up a day or two ago. You pick at it with chopsticks.
> And beside the sushi plate, the head of the smarty friend.
> After eating and drinking tea, you compose a small haiku:
> “Fluffies eat garden
> “Fluffies dishonour garden
> “Fluffies now in soil”
> You smile. Your life is one step closer to complete.
> For one summer morning, for a little under five minutes, you got to be a samurai.

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> You are the owner of a small, two floor house in the middle of suburbia
> You like cars, videogames, footie. The normal guy stuff.
> And samurai stuff
> Like, seriously.
> You love the old Kurosawa movies, especially those starring Toshiro Mifune
> You own almost all of them.
> You’ve made the upstairs into a small maze of makeshift sliding doors.
> When the weather permits, you sit in your backyard, which you’ve made into a miniature Zen garden, and drink tea while reading books on samurai, Japanese culture and the like.
> You even started doing kendo. You practice outside sometimes in the morning, weather permitting.
> You and your friends play the L5R cardgame and roleplaying game once in a while too.
> It’s not real Japanese samurai stuff, but eh, it’s neat.
> You even make some Japanese food.
> Your prized possession is a set of samurai swords, which cost you quite a lot of money.
> You wish you were a samurai. That would be so awesome.
> One Saturday morning, you rolled out of bed, and decided that you’d relax today. 
> You’d get groceries and all that other assorted crap later.
> You were about to go enjoy the nice summer morning outside in your backyard, when you heard giggling.
> A ghost?
> Oh no.
> Fluffies. Loads and loads of fluffies, wandering around your backyard.
> A feral herd? Here? Of all places?
> You watch them for about ten seconds, gaping.
> One squats in your Zen garden and take a giant shit. “Big wittahbawks!” it chortles.
> Others are eating grass, getting into your flowers and chewing them all to hell.
> Oh for fuck sake!
> Some of them are getting into you’re your radishes and tomatoes!
> You promised mom you’d give her a few when they were ready to be picked.
> You are pissed. Utterly pissed.
> They drink from the little pool you dug.
> One just pissed on your Buddha statue.
> It. Is. On.
> You step outside through the sliding glass door.
> “Get outta my fuckin Zen garden!” you yell.
> They all freeze.
> A small, green Unicorn trots up to you and puffs out his cheeks
> “Dis pwace bewong to fwuffies now! Dum hooman weave or get big owwies!”
> You look around for a moment, counting the fluffies.
> Around fifty, you think.
> Then you spy the small hole in the fence they got through.
> Goddamn Uncle Donnie, can’t fix anything properly.
> Suddenly, you feel something warm and wet on your bare leg.
> You look down. The fucking Unicorn just shat on you!
> “Giv stoopid hooman sowwy poopies!” he proclaims, then barks a laugh before headbutting the exact same leg he shit on, smearing himself with his own excrement.
> Fuzzy little retard.
> “Sen gawdun bewong to hewd now!”
> Oh Christ, it reeks. You need to wash off your leg before you deal with these little fucks, so you step inside.
> All the fluffies continue mulling about, happy that their brave ‘smarty friend’ vanquished the human monster.
> As you wash your leg off in the bathroom, a thought dawns on you.
> You grin. You walk into your room and stare at your samurai swords.
> Outside, you can hear the fluffies laughing, playing, and occasionally, breaking something.
> It is time you avenged yourself.
> You tie your hair back into a tight top-knot.
> You put on some sandals.
> You put on your bathrobe, tie it tight around your waist and slip one of the samurai swords into your belt.
> You practice your voice a little bit, get it nice and deep with an exaggerated Japanese accent.
> Then, you step outside, scowling.
> “ooo stink rike dead baboon out here!” you say. You loved “Shadow Warrior”. Lo Wang was the best.
> All the fluffies puff their cheeks out, confident, you suspect, that if their smarty friend can drive you away, so can they.
> They all babble various threats at you. “Go ‘way ow get big owwies!”, “stoopid hooman no come heaw!” “giv skeeties or get sowwy poopies!”
> You take a deep breath, rip the katana out its sheath and scream “SIRENCE!”
> They all freeze. A few cry softly about the ‘sowwy stick’ you’re holding.
> They don’t now how sorry they will be.
> “Fruffies distloy my Zen gawden!” you say, trying your best to sound like that one samurai from ‘Red Sun’.
>  “Fruffies aporogise fol this dishonoul!”
> The smarty emerges from the herd. “Nu! Smawty no afwaid of sowwy stick!”
> You stare at him, coldly.
> “Vewy well” you say.
> You lift the katana up, and scream at the top of your lungs
> “TENNOHEIKA BANZAI!”
> You rush into the idiot herd, and swing the sword down. 
> There is a squeal as one of the fluffies falls over, half of its head missing and blood pouring from its exposed brain pan
> Immediately, they scatter, crying and babbling idiotically. 
> Some try to escape through the little hole in the fence.
> Oh no they don’t.
>You bloke it with your nearby garbage can, and lay into the little vermin, swinging low and cutting off the legs of three fluffies with one long stroke
> “waahh! Why huwt!? Giv back weggies!” one of them cries
> Not only did it lose its legs, you think. It lost its honour.
> You dispatch it with a small jab and continue your glorious battle.
> You jump high and bring the katana down on a Unicorn.
> You are a tad surprised that you cut through its horn, as well as most of its body straight down the middle.
> But you collect yourself. You must focus! You are samurai!
> You sing the blade to your right in a horizontal arc. A pegagsus tries to duck out of the way. It does, but the stupid thing didn’t retract its wings
> They fall from its back like cherry blossoms.
> “KIAI!”
>You swing it back and take its legs and small fuzzy genitals out from underneath it. It screams.
> “nuuu! Speciaw pwace and weggies go ‘way!”
> You get up and quickly jab it.
> You start laying into the fluffballs in earnest now.
> You idly think this could be good practice- moving targets, making you time your swings.
> You shake your head.
> “humph!”
> Focus!
> You hack, slash and swipe through the herd, never letting them rest. They run, piss, scream and shit, unable to find their way out.
> The smell of fluffy blood is everywhere. It doesn’t smell as bad as their crap, thankfully.
> You bisect a pregnant mare. Her foals wiggle out of her, chirping.
> You gingerly kick them into the small pool.
> Fluffy foals drown.
> You stab an earth pony through its anus. Your blade comes out of its mouth.
> You fling it off without a second thought.
> One looks up with you with wide eyes and begins to wail. 
> You take its lower jaw and tongue off with one stroke. It gargles the rest of its pathetic, shameful mewling before you kick it in the stomach, sending it into the side of your house.
> It ceases moving and making sounds.
> You turn around. Only one fluffy remains.
> The smarty friend.
> He cowers, sitting in a puddle of his own filth, crying
> “pwease…pwease…fwuffy sowwy…fwuffy weave pwease no sowwy stick”
> You lower your katana.
> He looks up.
> You speak to him in the same exaggerated voice.
> “You are shamfur fruffy. Say it.”
> He shakes his head “no ‘wan. No know wat dat means”
> You growl at him. He pees a little more.
> He disgusts you.
> “SHAMFUR DISPRAY!”
>You sever his head from his neck. It rolls a little ways, still blinking for a few seconds.
> His body pitches over.
> You flick the blood off of your katana, and slowly slide it back into its sheath.
> Just before it closes, you cut your thumb.
> “ow. Fuck.” You say in your normal voice.

----------

> Thankfully, the cut wasn’t deep. A bandaid fixed it.
> It took you a while to pick up all the corpses, though. You didn’t mind too much. Bits of the little bastards where strewn *everywhere*.
> Afterwards, you cleaned the Zen garden of fluffy filth and sat in your lawn chair, drinking green tea out of a cute little Japanese tea cup.
> On the table next to you was some sushi you picked up a day or two ago. You pick at it with chopsticks.
> And beside the sushi plate, the head of the smarty friend.
> After eating and drinking tea, you compose a small haiku:
> “Fluffies eat garden
> “Fluffies dishonour garden
> “Fluffies now in soil”
> You smile. Your life is one step closer to complete.
> For one summer morning, for a little under five minutes, you got to be a samurai.

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