The Ninja Church

One of the most under-appreciated characters in storytelling lore is the generic henchman. Where would villains, super-villains and the criminally inane be without a devoted army of nameless fighters willing to sacrifice themselves for the greater cause, which often includes dominating and/or destroying the world? Perhaps the better question is, where do I go to sign up? Well, I'll tell you...

One tale that I neglected to mention from last week's Eugene adventure was what occurred upon my arrival to town. My good buddy and former roommate Sam, seen here reading The Book of Mormon while drinking a beaker of beer...

...told me that his buddies were having a party that we've gotta swing by. It'd been a while since I'd been to a good ol' fashioned college kegger, so I said I was in.

Upon arrival at the designated address, we found ourselves standing before the House of God. That's right, the raging beer bash was being held in a church.

Now, I've been to a church or two in my days. Granted, I'm no Peter, Paul and/or Mary, but let's just say that I've partied with a Bish or two. That being said, I did not expect to find a raging party in this locale.

Sure enough, there was a fresh keg filled with some fine oak soda.

While it may have been spiked with some sort of mind-altering holy water, I decided to give it a go. Hey, I was on vacation. So after grabbing my mug of Jesus Juice, I was ready for anything. However, as we entered the main part of the church, my mind was blown away. I've been to every kind of party... keggers, beer-busts, hootinanys, shindigs, pants parties, no-pants parties... you name it, but nothing had prepared me for this. Take a moment to picture the most random and ridiculous thing you could walk in on. Got it picked out? Ok, now get ready to have your mind blown.

That's right... It was like a scene out of one of the ridiculous 70's Bond movies, where a mad Christopher Walken opens a door to a room full of... ninjas in training. No music, no dance floor, no hoochies, just two dudes, one with nunchucks, the other with a staff. I don't know who's training these guys, or for what evil purpose, but I guzzled down a few beers and said let's do this. Hey, I was on vacation.

I soon learned that the mom of one of these jokers owned the property and, after the church went bankrupt, let them move in. We didn't stay long, as it wasn't quite the Friday night fare that I was seeking, plus the nunchucks were rapidly covering my body with dark bruises.

The adventure continued from there, as documented in the earlier post. However, my mind still wonders what kind of evil plot I had wandered into and how close I came to becoming a skilled minion for some evil genius.

Hey, only in Eugene.