The Ninjas of My Blog and the 'About Me' Section

Drawing of the archetypical ninja, from a series of sketches (Hokusai manga) by Hokusai. Woodblock print on paper. Volume six, 1817.

Dark clouds glided over the crescent moon. Few guards walked the fire lit passageways of the stronghold. The time to scale the walls and enter at the designated entry point was now.

But there was something that held the ninjas back...

'The Last King of Shambhala'. The alter ego of Daniel Grant Newton, the kick-ass author of this blog, and author of the book that is not about him, but conveniently of the same name. A convenience that may prove confusing for readers, but that which would favour the Judo Lords of Google.

He was the target, but also the biggest threat to any ninja. His mere name made one loyal ninja go to the market instead of coming on the mission, one stay home, one eat roast beef, one not eat roast beef, and made yet another run, run, run all the way home.

Don't be mistaken - these ninjas were freakin' awesome with their swords. Their master had even announced that this generation of ninjas were: "freakin' awesome with their swords."

(Their spirits had been ceremoniously bound to their sword at birth, and they were to never use another sword in their life.

They trained with the same sword night and day. And they were able to fling their sword about with ease and precision, slicing through watermelons hanging from beams in the dojo.

All ninjas have watermelons hanging from dojo ceilings at all times, and these ninjas had videos of themselves on YouTube cutting through them in slow motion to a backing of energetic freeware music. So you know they are the real deal.)

But as they say, the pen is mightier than the sword, and the keyboard is mightier than the pen. And being a writer and an artist, 'The Last King of Shambhala' (or Daniel Grant Newton if you will), was proficient with both pen and keyboard. He could touch type with one hand and twirl a pen as to created the illusion that it was made of jelly with the other hand.

This struck fear into even the coldest assassin ninja. They pull their electric blankets over their head at night fearing his pen and keyboard combination moves.

Finally, one ninja, the leader, growled at his companions. "Do not just stand there. We have a job to do."

His ninja companions had all accidentally been exposed to a poisonous gas on their last mission that, although did not handicap their poison-proof bodies, made them lose their short-term memory. This proved handy if they were being interrogated, but a menace when they had a job still to do.

"What was our mission?" they asked in unison.

"Our mission," said the leader ninja, "was to get inside the head of The Last King of Shambhala so we can write an About Me section for his blog."

One ninja stepped forward. We'll call him 'Fred' for convenience sake. And we'll call the leader ninja 'Dominick'.

(In reality, ninjas don't have names. They just have a grunt that identifies them. This grunt is derived from the noise made by their first kill.

Unfortunately for 'Dominick', the leader ninja, his first kill was a horse. He had accidentally kicked it too hard with his ninja legs when he wanted to proceed forward. But as tradition insisted, he was henceforth known as "Nnaaayyyy".)

Back to the story...

Fred, the ninja who stepped forward, asked, "But we know so much about our target. We know his real name is Daniel Grant Newton. We know he is writing a novel series called the 'Akashic Records Series', and that the first book is 'The Last King of Shambhala'. We know he began life with reading and writing difficulties, jumbling letters and writing letters back to front and upside down. We even know we are a figment of his imagination. We know enough to write the 'About Me' section ourselves."

(At this point you may be wondering how Fred, who apparently lost his memory, can remember these details about Daniel's life.

Great question. Fred's memory, as well as the other ninjas affected by memory loss, was actually a very weak ploy in progressing the story. It helped explain certain story elements by needing Dominick, the leader, to explain information to the reader that the ninjas should already know, but suddenly began working without warning when convenient to the lazy writer.

It was thus classified as 'temperamental convenient memory loss'. This can affect mates who owe you money, or criminals caught by law enforcement officers. See a movie if problems persist.)

Dominick nodded as he heard Fred rattle off facts about their target, before holding up a hand to stop him.

Their leader knew that Fred was right, but he also knew getting inside Daniel's head would reveal much more than simple facts. Human beings were not 2D as some of their literary counter parts are. We are not all characters from the movie 'The Tourist'.

Dominick turned away from his companions for dramatic effect, and the other ninjas appeared out of focus like they were in 'Bold and the Beautiful'.

"Fellow ninjas, there is more to..." he began, but was interrupted by a whistling noise and a strong breeze.

He spun around with his sword poised. All his ninja companions had been knocked unconscious.

"Daniel?" whispered Dominick. His eyes scanned the shadows. "I know you are there. You will surrender, and give me a proper 'About Me' section for your blog. I will not leave without it."

Suddenly, with a stroke of the keyboard, Dominick had his feet swooped from underneath him. He hit his head hard, but before his eyes flickered to black, he saw Daniel Grant Newton - The Last King of Shambhala - standing over him.

"Perhaps, but not today," wrote Daniel. "We shall meet again, Nnaaayyyy. Sleep well."

And with that, a proper 'About Me' section for this blog was lost forever.