Spring/Summer, 2001
There is nothing I love more than unintentional comedy that lends itself to a deadpan response, and The Ninja provided me with an example during the summer of 2001 that will probably never be topped. Before I get to the story, a little background on The Ninja.
I first met The Ninja in high school through a series of events that need not be mentioned (mainly because I don’t have his permission), and we ended up running track together in college. Two rules to know about college track: 1) It lends itself to a lot of downtime before practice while everyone warms up and stretches together, inevitably leading to the most asinine conservations imaginable. As an example, we had a debate that lasted the entire few years I was on the team consisting of whether or not a car driving down the highway would be able to drive onto the ramp of a tractor trailer and park the car on the trailer while the two were racing down the highway. 2) Modesty does not exist. Enough said.)
The Ninja and I became friends during college, where I spent a lot of time at his apartment. After I graduated a semester early, I lived in the apartment for 8 months before moving on to law school. At the apartment, the same two rules as above applied. For example, it was not uncommon for The Ninja to be standing naked in the living room while we debated whether such American cinematic masterpieces as “American Ninja 2” or “Rad” were awesome, super awesome, or stroke-inducing awesome.
The other thing to know about The Ninja was that despite the fact he is a lunatic, he is a very thoughtful person who has a deep-seated faith that I envy. He’s the type of guy who prays for everything to be healed, included a snotty nose. In contrast to me, who just hands him a tissue and says, “Blow and be healed, my child.”
During the time I was living in the apartment, The Ninja was deciding whether or not to get married. In fact, The Ninja and Mrs. Ninja decided to take some time apart at the recommendation of their pastor and figure out if marriage was the path for their lives. It was near the end of this time apart that we pick up the scene:
From The Ninja’s perspective: It was late at night and he had made up his mind that he was going to pop the question to Mrs. Ninja at the end of the time apart. Standing in the bathroom taking care of business before hitting the hay, he was pondering how hard it must be for Mrs. Ninja to not know that he had made up his mind. While thinking about the upcoming announcement, he softly said to himself, “Poor Mrs. Ninja.”
From my perspective: I walk down the hallway to my bedroom, look into the open door of the bathroom and see The Ninja with his head down holding The Ninja Package, while muttering the words “Poor Mrs. Ninja” with a sad look on his face.
My response?
“Don’t worry dude, I'm sure it's not that small.”
