The Junction
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The Junction

El Ninja Burrito

We arrived at the burrito joint sometime between lunch and dinner. We were both hungry and hungover. I ordered an horchata, my friend ordered a coke. Our burritos came and we ate in a booth next to a window, talking about bitches or art or whatever. We were young and in college.

It was a prime time to be a dumbass. We talked about stupid shit and always recapped the night before with an itemized list of all the alcohol and drugs we consumed, as if it really mattered.

So, I ate my burrito and said I had had like twelve beers, two shots of rum, a strong grip from a flask, three cups of jungle juice, half a pack of smokes, one massive bong rip, and a blunt. Or something like that.

I was as meticulous as possible, digging lists before they were a bonafide Internet thing. It was a point of pride to detail just how incredibly fucked up we got.

Anyhow. The burrito was good, but made me gassy. I liked to add the green salsa. I guess my friend’s was good too. He added the red.

It started to rain. We weren’t in a hurry to go anywhere. We had our plastic trays filled with empty wrappers and a mound of soiled napkins. I leaned back in my seat and slowly seeped out a fart and then sipped on my horchata. My friend was none the wiser.

There were a few broken chips in the basket next to the pico de gallo, but I couldn’t eat another drop. My stomach was full and my head was pounding and I was ready for a nap.

That’s when we saw him.

Outside the window, there was a steady rain. The skies were gray and the streets were slick. Standing alone in the parking lot was a white guy. This guy had on jeans and a t-shirt that was soaked to the bone.

He also had on a blue bandana tied around his head.

In his hands he was whipping around a pair of nunchucks like the goddamn dude from Double Dragon.

Now, this is back before smartphones and even before digital cameras, which is a shame because I’m sure this would have had like 98 million views by now if we could have recorded it.

So instead we just sat there and sipped our drinks and watched these nunchucks twirl around in his hands like some weapon of mass destruction. We laughed because it was kinda funny, but really because it was also kinda sad.

I turned to my friend at some point and looked at him gravely and said, “Ya know, that dude using those nunchucks in the rain is pretty good. I hope he isn’t waiting for someone.”

After finishing our drinks, we got up to empty our trays in the trash. We turned back towards the window and it had stopped raining. The ninja was gone.

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Stephen M. Tomic

Stephen M. Tomic

Fiction writer, Founder and Editor of The Junction : smtomic@gmail.com