The Snow Ninja
My friend the snow ninja. He honed his death letting snowboard skills on some remote Mountain range in Tibet. You would think that he drove to the Snoqualmie ski and snowboard area like a normal person, but he would have you think again after touching the pressure point between your humulus and upper dorsimus, dropping you to your knees in nerve rendering pain. No. No car for the snow ninja, he parachuted out of John Travolta's private jet with his board on his feet and personal arsenal of life canceling weapons in tow. Usually ninjas do not harbor explosive
rage, due to the hours of meditation spent focusing their minds. This however in no way applies to the snow ninja. As he is focused and as sharp as an eagle iris, and could watch hours of Oprah's sitcom unaffected, he is one irate bastard. In fact he is downright nasty. He proceeded forth in line to buy his lift ticket and someone asked if they could borrow a pair of socks. It happened to be Tony Danza. The snow ninja wasted no time and ripped out the trachea of Tony Danza. His bright white snow gloves went unblemished. At this point my memory gets foggy, as the irritable snow ninja dropped a smoke bomb and seemingly disappeared like a hypnotic specter, of course with Tony Danza's wallet.
**This fantastical little tale is unfortunately fiction. The snow ninja is actually a 24.5 year old white male named Cole. He works at a major dot.com crunching numbers while trying not to develop carpel tunnel syndrome. He chases the dream of a more chiseled physique like all of us, and about a week ago, accompanied by my youngest brother, we went to Snoqualmie pass and shredded.