Random Acts of Insanity

Random Acts of Insanity Part 2

Random Act: TWO

Bytownbloggerbuddy.com

Not money. Not drugs. Wrong place? Wrong time? Or maybe this guy is just a garden variety idiot.

You decide.

Police are baffled as to why a teenage boy tried to sneak into the Master Fist Dojo earlier tonight.

Six of the club's black belt martial artists are also shaking their heads over the incident.

Personally, I'm LMFAO at this total dumbass.

Around three o'clock this morning, some random idiot, got unexpected payback when he climbed the dojo's side wall, in full rock climbing gear, and into the dark dojo window.

Unknown to this complete fool, the dojo was not empty. Twenty children were inside, asleep on the mats for their annual Ninja of the Night sleepover party. The kid's instructors, all black belt MMA fighters, heard the noise this guy was making, and went into ninja mode and waited for him to crawl inside the window.

Buddy climbed in the window to six pissed off MMA fighters. The moment must have been epic.

Fueled by the fact that this guy could only be climbing up the wall with no good intention toward the children, the fighters immediately got down to the business teaching this guy a memorable lesson in what happens when you try to sneak into a dojo full of sleeping children.

After what must have been a very short 'lesson' in how climbing gear can be used for flight up and out a second story window, the instructors called the police.

When the police arrived, all that was left tangled in the climbing harnesses was a pair of shit stained underwear. Buddy was gone.

Seriously people. I don't make this shit up!

JACK

I roared down highway 417, the Queensway, into God damned Ottawa. I hate this fucking city. Too many Goddamned police. Federal RCMP police. Provincial OPP police. City of Ottawa police. Everywhere they crawled. It was the first thing I noticed when I landed here from Russian. The first thing I wanted away from while I was forced to stand before them in the customs offices. The only way I made it through those intrusive hours was to keep my eyes on my uncle. Steady on his black eyes. Those eyes are the only true authority over me.

Right now I kept my eyes the same way. Straight ahead and steady as I passed through the city. Orleans. Vanier. Downtown. Island Park. Westboro. Rich parts of the city. Poor parts too. The Queensway passed by them all until I pass the Bayshore Mall, the gateway to my true destination. Kanata.

I glance to the left, at the black pit of a high school I was forced to attend, years ago for the purpose of immigration. I was too old for school but made to attend to better my English. They love English in this country.

St. Mary's High School could be seen from the Queensway, a sprawling academic place, the people worse than any on streets of Srebrenica, my old home. The place where I grew up. There were so many rich snobs in that school, girls and boys, each in desperate need of a beat down I was unable deliver.

"Keep your ass clean in this country, Janko, my uncle warned me every day. Keep your ass clean until your papers are in."

So I never delivered the beating those rich cocksuckers needed. I only watched them instead, disgusted in their wealthy indulged worlds, refusing to become a part of their luxury. They tried to bait me by calling me comrade with a thick ridiculous accent. I walked away.

My motorcycle roars through the quiet streets of Kanata. A very sleepy suburb of the city. There are many big houses with green well-kept property all around, expensive cars in the laneways, and expensive wives in the kitchens. My bike sounds like the hounds of Hell through these streets. I temper down the engine. I cannot afford the attention. It is the weekend, and early in the afternoon. The weather is warm so many families are outside and about. Baseball games. Soccer games. Little girls in tuts, holding their father's hands. All nice things for this nice neighbourhood. These children know nothing but nice. Every girls is her father's princess. Every boy his mother's little prince.

My childhood was alien. Perfect until I was seven. A nightmare thereafter. I try not to think about it anymore. Childhood is acid in my stomach.

I am here for another purpose. A dark reason. I will defecate on these streets. I will do this now because I can.

My orders are to find the Game Master. Find him. Recruit him. Or put two in his head.

I park in plain sight in the busy mall parking lot, a good place to see and get the beat of what goes on. As always, I stand out. I am still too foreign for this place. It is my face. My eyes. They have seen too much and know too many things. Too many horrible things. Too many Serbian thing. I am ancient for my twenty one years.

I scan the busy parking lot. Not much has changed in three years. This place. This country. These people. So young. Everything about this place is still so young and naïve.

My eyes rake over the shop windows again but dart back on their own at something in one of the windows. My mind takes over what my eyes have instinctively picked out.

Her.

It was her.

Holy fuck.