Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5
In the history of the world, the human need to ‘fit in’ can be accredit to producing the highest amount of (harmless) regrettable acts. Most people recover by taking some time for their 5 stages and grow to learn a lesson out of it; the The Insecure Ninja sets himself apart by bypassing all of that using his Ninja technique of Intense Rationalization.
Being ‘alone in the city’ is a scary prospect and being subjected to the stigma of being ‘alone in the city’ is a scarier one. When The Insecure Ninja moved out of The Dojo In The Middle Of A Forest and moved into a city, his whole life was waiting to be shaped; the world was a scrumptious oyster. The Insecure Ninja decided to go all guns blazing in the hunt for a tightly knit group of friends he could weave himself into.
However, The Insecure Ninja’s best foot had unfortunately been put forward in a direction colored only by delusion, much like how a young lady in hopes of finding fame would put her best foot forward in a basement photo studio or how a jittery rooster on a romantic rendezvous with his rooster-lady-love would put its best leg forward in a new ‘fun and edgy place he knows’ called KFC.
What followed was a series of companionships so nauseating: ranging from high school students indulging in adolescent voyeurism to sports fan who could find no fault in considering themselves responsible for 11 men in another continent being able to deposit a ball in a net; but still couldn’t consider themselves responsible for raising children who wore Female Body Inspector T-Shirts and vandalized school equipment under the intoxicating effect of non toxic glue. It took months of desperate searching to finally find a group of friends that were on the same wavelength as him, in addition to being fun and dauntless.
A source of tremendous poignancy is the imagery of an outsider looking intently at a group of people who are so enviably free spirited. Trying to cast aside his demons, or waiting for the day when they have been cast aside. Waiting to be just like them, having equal honesty in laughter as theirs, equal excitement in squeals as theirs, equal anger in frowns as their, equal relief in embraces as theirs. Waiting to not be burdened by two co-existing sentients: projected and real, when just one can crush a lion’s heart.
The Insecure Ninja too found a group which fit the description. With whom he spent countless moments within, but truly without. A sense of wonder and admiration warming his insides, but the all consuming desire to be just like them cooling them back down. It didn’t even matter to him that collectively they called themselves ‘The Horny Monkeys’.
The Horny Monkeys Triad was unofficially led by Jaun La Pierre (whose french tongue would emit ‘Ze ‘Orny Monkeys’ instead). The Insecure Ninja was floored by everything they did – how they would slip into women’s night gowns and bike around town with equal virility equal panache, how Jaun La Pierre would seduce a croissant and make sweet passionate love with it in his mouth, how their motorcycle adventures were undertaken sans helmets, how they called themselves a triad even though none of them were Chinese, how they would, in impeccable unison, rub their nipples at unsuspecting families while reciting the chant ‘Nipple Nipple Nipple Nipple Nipple’, or how they would fling merde (pardon my french) at the retired members of The Undead Army. And though The Insecure Ninja could be seen by a bystander to be partaking in each of those activities, it just wasn’t real.
The members of Ze ‘Orny Monkeys Triad would sometimes wake up from nights of inadvisable amounts of alcohol consumption to find their ‘instruments of ‘orniness’ to have become ‘kosher’ overnight. They were able to laugh it off and graciously accept the brand new attention they would receive from middle aged Jewish women. In the midst of all the amiable hooliganism and fait accomplis, it always remained ambiguous to The Insecure Ninja whether Ze ‘Orny Monkeys were humans who had taken on the name ‘Horny Monkeys’ or if they were actual horny monkeys.
In the quest to become a naturalized citizen of Ze ‘Orney Monkeys triad, The Insecure Ninja found himself in a moment in time in which there were 14 pairs of eyes stationed on him ,containing everything from, and in between, disappointment and excitement.
He had just been dared to get a tramp stamp.
This was one of the many nights of inebriation, where the lack of inhibitions led the Insecure Ninja to have the confidence to overcome his inability of saying ‘No’ and successfully refused getting a tramp stamp, without hesitance. But a week later, in the claws of crippling sobriety, The Insecure Ninja succumbed to his weakness.
Whoever said tramp stamps have any sort of a deficit in class? People – that’s who. There is no objective truth to be applied here, it’s all perspective. Lower back is skin just the same as thigh and just the same as buttocks. I, a strong, independent, liberated Ninja shouldn’t even entertain this chain of thought. It shouldn’t even be allowed entry into my mind. I should be thinking instead about what I would like to get inked on my body. Some tattoos are impressive for their inherent aesthetic beauty. No need for a mountain of background or subtext behind it. Tattoos don’t have to be quintessential representation of one’s identity…. Though if I am getting something permanently stamped on my body, it should damn well come close. That, which has truly affected the very essence of my being….. The essence of my being, on my lower back (which I insist on thinking with conviction) is a neutral zone of the body.
The day ended with the martially trained body of The Insecure Ninja pristine-no-more. The small of his back had been put under the needle. ‘Small of the back’ was the wording chosen by The Insecure Ninja. ‘Lower back’ apparently ‘does not have the ring to it’ he always insists. This was a sentiment shared only by literotica writers.
Being a member of Ze ‘Orny Monkeys Triad did not mean The Insecure Ninja had to renounce his selfhood, and that’s why the brand-new addition to the anatomy of The Insecure Ninja was the Latin phrase ‘Ad Astra’.
‘Ad Astra’ is a Latin phrase which means ‘to the stars’. The Insecure Ninja decided he needed a constant reminder, especially in moments of adversity, to always shoot for the stars – to propel himself forward and take risks and be bold. One may ponder though, the tattoo not being visually accessible to his eyes, how could it possibly serve as any sort of a reminder?
But in his heart of hearts, The Insecure Ninja knows he will never forget that there is a Latin Tramp Stamp right across his ass.
Port Devashish 