Wednesday, August 27, 2014

Ninja Weapons and the Salesman

We are a die hard MMA family.  I even have a NINJAS license plate on my Jeep.  I just wanted to clear the air before you read the following:

Fall is Birthday Season at our house.  Every one of us is a fall baby peppered in between school starting, Halloween, Thanksgiving and ending right before Christmas.  It gets crazy, so I have my boys write me up a list of what they want and I keep an eye out for sales.  Usually it's LEGOS, more LEGOS, and, oh wow, LEGOS!  Which I don't mind.  However, this year is different.  I got the lists and this is what they wanted:

Bo Staff (Metal)
Kamas  (Metal grips with real blade)
Nunchaku (No fake crap)
Broadsword (The cool ones.  Seriously, mom.  We can handle it)

For a short list, I'm looking at $200-$300 worth of weapons PER kid.  And aside from the cost, it's a list of... hello, WEAPONS.  Not the fake kind either because they sat me down on the laptop and pointed out exactly what they wanted.

Uh... okay.

Last week, there was a traveling salesman casing my neighborhood.  I know this is their job and it's hard and all, but random folks knocking on my door really gets under my skin.  I ignore the door most of the time.  When I get my writing headgear on, I don't see, hear, or compute anything let alone the doorbell.  My dog, on the other hand, hears EVERYTHING including phantom noises that she must bark at because.... well, that's her job.  So, this guy is at the door, my dog is barking and I am yelling at her to shut her yapper.  Because my dog is barking and he hears shouting, the dude keeps ringing the doorbell.

Sigh...  Grumble...  Cuss Word...

Now I have to answer the door.

I brush the guy off.  Lets face it, there is no magical book that will turn my sons into overnight geniuses.  There just ISN'T.  If I bought the dang books, the only thing it would make smart is the dust it would collect on the shelf.  So he leaves and life gets back to normal.

Or so I thought.

A few days later, Mr. Sales Guy is lurking on the next street over pestering my other neighbors.  I was off to the store getting bread (Heaven FORBID there is nothing for toast in the morning.  Cue EPIC meltdown).  My sons are old enough to leave at home while I pop off to the store.  I take my time.  My boys think they are something else when they get the responsibility to stay home alone.  It ups their super dude cool factor.  When I get home there are weapons EVERYWHERE.

First thought that comes into my head is: HEY!!  I just cleaned up in here!  What the HECK!?  (Just so you know, my sons take pride in the fact that the house is still standing by the time I get home)

Then I get the earful.

The sales guy came back to try my house again.  My son's know better than to answer and they let Miss Doggie Pants bark her head off.  But the guy won't leave.  He starts banging on the door, making the dog go freaking nuts growling and thrashing on her end of things.  My son's are thinking this is creepy ESPECIALLY when the sales guy tries to FORCE HIS WAY INTO MY HOUSE!!!

Heck, at this point in their tale, I am freaking out too!!

So, my sons bust a move to grab every fake-o practice weapon they own, stockpile them at the front door and then stand on the welcome mat with their bo staffs ready to whoop this guy's butt.  Luckily for the sales guy, the door was deadbolted shut and he eventually gave up.  To this day, I am sure he has no clue what was waiting for him.

After I calmed down, stopped hugging my boys and smothering the living daylights out of them... nope, I am still freaked out about it.  The "what if" part of this tale creeps me out.

All I can say is this: So you think you want to enter my house uninvited?  Well, prepare to get your butt kicked.  I take no responsibility for what my kids will do to you, because lets face it––First of all, you shouldn't be forcing your way into my house.  Secondly, those boys are going to be loaded this fall!

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