Test Me

It just doesn't feel right to go through the month of December without having to take final exams. This is definitely the first winter since I was rescued from the feral hogs that I haven't been reduced to a blubbering pile of failure by an indecipherable essay question, and to be honest, I have missed it a little bit. That is why I devoted this weekend to searching for a test around Austin that I could take.

I wasn't sure where to start, but from my encyclopedic knowledge of the Karate Kid and its sequels, I seemed to recall that the mystical art of karate involved a lot of tests. So, Saturday morning, I went down to the local karate school to see if they had a test I could take. Before I went, I donned black sweat pants and drew a big dragon on my chest with a marker, just to let them know I was no pushover. When I entered the dojo, I bowed to the receptionist and then demonstrated a picture perfect dragon punch from Street Fighter 2. I wanted to demand my black belt test after that, but I got a charlie horse from the dragon punch, so I had to walk around the building a few times to work it out. After that, I announced, "I am Sensei Powell. I have come to be tested for a black belt. Also, I have a coupon for a free pair of nunchuks."

The receptionist started to hand me a clipboard full of paperwork. I snatched it from her, put the paper in my mouth, and then swallowed it. "That's what I think of your stupid procedures. Now send Master Splinter out," I commanded. She started to question me, but then I assumed the dragon punch position and she immediately become much more cooperative. She handed me my free nunchuks and pointed me down the hall to their testing room. The room was empty, although I knew it'd soon be filled with screams of anguish from my opponent. I began to practice a few punches and nunchuk swings, when I heard the door knob begin to turn. I ran behind the door. An old man shambled into the room, and I jumped out from behind the door, bopping him in the nose with my nunchuks. Then I assumed my defensive stance, known as the truffle shuffle.

"What is wrong with you? I'm the janitor!" he said.

"Or, more likely, a karate master dressed as the janitor!" I bopped him again with the nunchuks, and he fell down. While he was unconscious, I could see that he went to great lengths with his janitor costume. Not only was he carrying around a mop, but he had a wallet that said World's Greatest Janitor. Yes, he did get points for the thoroughness, but no points could make up for the vicious ass thrashing I had doled out on him. He didn't seem to have my black belt on his person, so instead, I took his shoes.

As he was beginning to revive, I got right up in his face and said, "Thanks for the sneaks, pops; I'll be back next December for the belt." He mumbled something about being a diabetic and needing insulin. Sensing that he was trying to trick me into my own demise, I jumped through the window into the parking lot. Yes, the shards of glass tingled a bit, but what tingled even more was a little something I like to call the sense of accomplishment.

Posted by Cody at December 14, 2003 6:51 PM