Ninja Burger Stories By You
Date: Wed, 28 Nov 2001 20:38:25 +0000 From: Mr. Who [*********@hotmail.com] To: firstname.lastname@example.org Subject: A tale of Delivery It was a warm night in the city, or at least, in the outer boroughs it was. There was a thin sliver of light hanging low in the eastern sky over Queens, the last gasp of a waning moon. Across the East River, Manhattan lay sprawling like an unconquerable woman. You could venture inside, but you'd never figure her out, and chances are you'd come out with less than you had when you went in. And that was the central issue that plagued Jeff as he sat on his fire escape, chain smoking his way through a pack of Parliaments and lamenting the lack of good burgers in his neighborhood. Jeff knew where to go to get one, but it would mean getting dressed, and being seen in Manhattan, having to look halfway normal. You never knew who might be around in town. "If only," he thought, "If only there was a way for me to obtain a really good hamburger without having to leave my apartment. Strike that ^Ö a bacon cheeseburger. Deluxe. With fries." Jeff sighed to himself and flicked his cigarette down. There was a light breeze and he tracked it's end over end fall into the darkened alley way below, to watch the splash of orange sparks as it hit the pavement. Jeff never saw his cigarette hit the ground. It seemed to disappear. Suddenly there was a swishing noise and something flicked the sleeve of Jeff's shirt. When he tried to turn around to see what it was, he found himself pinned to the window frame by a metallic black spike of some kind. It had come from somewhere, and stuck his shirt to the window. Carefully rolled around the dart (or whatever it was) was a piece of parchment. Jeff unstuck himself and looked into the alley below as he unrolled it. He thought he saw the briefest flash of shadowed motion, but he was obviously imagining it. The paper in Jeff's hand was written in a spiky backhand script, obviously the work of someone not writing as they might normally. There was a telephone number, and a sketch of exactly what Jeff had been thinking of ordering. A bacon cheeseburger, with the works. Feeling very nervous, Jeff went inside, locked his windows and doors , and turned out the lights. After several minutes of frightened sitting in the dark he decided to call the number on the paper and demand some answers. Curled by the foot of his bed, Jeff dialed the number, and waited. A voice answered at once. "Ninja Burger. What is your order?" "uh what?" "What is your order?" "Did you say 'Ninja Burger?'" "No time. What is your order?" "Uh, bacon cheeseburger. Deluxe. That comes with fries right?" Click. Jeff, perplexed, hung up the phone and realized he was perhaps in over his head on something very weird. He lit another cigarette, and began pacing around his apartment. He was absently poking at the hole in his t-shirt when he heard something move in the kitchen. Jeff ran into the kitchen and snapped on the light, only to find the room deserted but the window open. He ran over to it and slammed it shut. Hearing a noise in the living room he spun on his heels and came face to face with . . . Nothing. His apartment was empty. Excepting of course the bacon cheeseburger sitting steaming on the living room coffee table. Jeff went over to it in sheer wonder and stared, dumbfounded. Someone had broken into his apartment and left a burger and fries for him. He wondered how he was supposed to pay when the guy was never seen, and reflexively reached into his back pocket for his wallet. It was missing. He began hunting all over the apartment for it, and in no time found it in the kitchen, in front of the now open (again) window. There was a ten missing and in it's place a small metallic spike with a receipt rolled around it. Jeff realized then with a shudder, he was never alone. Ever. Ninja Burger would always be that shadow in the alley, that face on the subway, the fly on the wall. At least, as long as he paid them up front and tipped well.
Date: Fri, 03 Nov 2000 11:01:47 -0600 From: C****** [email@example.com] To: firstname.lastname@example.org Subject: Ninja_Burger! *this was the product of boredom and lack of sleep, resulting also in part from the awe i felt after recieveing my order conformation.... "So anyway," spouts Subterrenean Homesick Alien (aka, the inflatable alien in the back seat....don't ask) "I says to Mabel, I says - " Suddenly, a black cloud appears over the otherwise serene and tranquil scene. Virginia shrieks and floors it, trying desperately to escape the flying black mass that appears to be rapidly pursuing them. "Lock your doors!!" she yells, panicked. Just as the latches catch, the sound of shattering glass is heard. Black forms slide and maneuver (if they can spell it, that is) breathlessly through the cramped space. "Where are you, Subterrenean Homesick Alien?!" screams Virginia, helpless, trying to see through the fast moving black sheet in front of her eyes. Suddenly the smell of wasabi fills the air. With more shattering glass and incomprehensible dexterity, the black forms disappear from view. "What the hell was that?!" cries Virginia, reaching desperately for her friend in the back seat. Her hand reaches him, finding him a warm, incapacitated lump. The whole event lasts less than one minute, from the sighting of the black cloud and its sudden invasion of the truck, to its unexpected but gracious disappearance. All that remains to explain it is a bag - bearing an indiscernable symbol and the enigmatic words "Ninja Burger", and containing, police later discover, a hamburger, some french fries (quite tasy - must be an old recipe), a killer onion blossom, and, of course, wasabi. A note is also contained therein, stating simply "You did not unlock your windows. A surcharge of $49.95 will be added to your next order. -Deliverator" Police arriving on the scene have one thing to say: "Thank God she didn't try to tip 'em." ~V
Date: Wed, 15 Nov 2000 23:1:33 -0800 From: T** K***
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