295 - White Samurai


You are walking down the street, patrolling the neighborhood as you often do, when you spot through your elongated bangs a maiden in distress. Finally.

The damsel, fair of skin and face, is trying to push an obviously sexist male assailant from her. She giggles nervously, apparently hysterical from being accosted. "Stop it, babe, you're so bad," she tells the would-be rapist as he gently (and disgustingly) kisses her on the neck.

You throw open your jet black trench coat and unsheathe your katana. "The lady said stop, kid," you shout at the repeat sexual assailant.

"What?" he replies with the complete befuddlement of a man who does not recognize his privilege.

The distressed girl also shoots you a confused and somewhat scornful look. Obviously the poor, defenseless woman has already developed Stockholm syndrome toward this serial diddler.

"You heard me, pig. Don't make me do something we'll both regret," you warn.

The worst man since Hitler laughs evilly in your face. "Whatever, dude. Come on, Sam," he calls to his victim as he turns and walks off.

You offer a hand to the rescued lass. "M'Lady?"

"Ugh," she scoffs, "fuck off creep. And lose the sword before you get shot or arrested." She turns and follows after the very villain who threatened her purity just moments earlier.

Why do women always go with jerks, you ponder. You attempt to re-sheathe your forty dollar katana and the hilt snaps off. You are a knight de-lanced, a samurai without a weapon. You consider the honorable tradition of seppuku, but decide upon chicken strips instead.

Today will not be a total loss.