in Sam’s samurai movies. “Gee Mr. Samurai guy, we are very sorry for time warping into your house like this. All we have to do is find our Book and then we’ll be on our way. Okay?”
The samurai stared back at us, motionless.
“Fine? Is good? Hola? Si?”
The samurai stared back at us, motionless.
“Oh great,” I said. “I think something’s wrong with the Auto-Translator. He’s not getting a word I say. Sam, you know some Japanese words. Get up here and use them.”
“No way,” said Sam, edging behind Fred. “I said I learned a few words. I didn’t say I learned how to. beg a fully armed samurai warrior not to slice off our heads with his razor-sharp sword.”
Fred pushed Sam forward. “Well just say whatever you’ve got—hello, sorry, see ya. I don’t think we want to mess with this guy.”
Light glinted off the samurai’s red-lipped black metal faceplate. Sam inched forward.
“Um ... well... konichiwa, samurai. My friends and I—Joe-san, Fred-san, Sam-san—are so sorry ... um, so zannen ... for coming into your house.”
A stick fell in the fire and shot up a blaze of light. The samurai seemed to look down at Sam’s feet and frown. Sam looked down at his sneakers.
“Oh no.” He turned to us. “Quick, take your shoes off and throw them over there on the dirt part of the room.”
“What?” said Fred. “He doesn’t like the smell of our sneakers? This guy is starting to sound like my mom.”
“No,” said Sam. “It’s terribly impolite to ever wear your shoes in anyone’s home in Japan. He could cut our heads off for such an insult.”
“He’s definitely starting to sound like my mom,” I said.
But it didn’t seem worth it to lose our head over shoes, so we slipped them off and tossed them over onto the dirt floor. Sam bowed. Fred and I bowed along with him.
“Sooo sorry. So sorry,” said Sam. “We are sorry, very sorry, I can’t tell you how sorry, so please-don’ t-do-anything-with-your-sword-there-because-we-were-wearing-shoes-inside-your-house-and-we- are-stupid-heads sorry.”
“Hey, speak for yourself,” said Fred.
The fire blazed up again. The samurai in the shadows seemed to look down again.
“Oh right,” said Sam. “We’re supposed to kneel down in front of him because he is a samurai.” Sam knelt down. Fred and I copied him.
The samurai stared at us and said nothing. Seconds drifted by. No one said anything. We looked at him. He looked at us. Seconds turned into minutes. No one said anything.
“I think he’s testing us,” Sam half whispered out of one side of his mouth.
“Well, I think I’ve had about enough testing,” said Fred. “Tell him it’s been real, it’s been nice, but we’ve got a Book to catch.”
“Patience,” whispered Sam. “Samurai are impressed by patience and control.”
“Maybe we can patiently back out of here,” I said. “My knees are killing me.”
“Please don’t use that k-word,” whispered Sam.
“Hey, check it out,” said Fred. He nodded toward the wall closest to us. Three long spear poles with machete-style blades at the ends leaned against the wall.
“Those are closer to us than they are to him,” said Fred. “There are three of us and only one of him.”
Sam turned completely ghost white. “No, no, no. Don’t you remember Blade of Lightning? Samurai are fast enough to take on ten guys with spears and swords.”
It was too late. I could tell Fred had already made up his mind. He got up slowly, pretending to stretch his legs.
“Oh, that’s it. Just needed to stretch the old—”
Then it all happened in a second. Fred jumped for the machete-spear weapon. His shadow flashed across the samurai.
“Look out Fred!” yelled Sam. “He’s going for his sword!”
I dove for the samurai’s feet and smacked my head on his shin guards. The samurai fell toward Fred. Fred grabbed the spear. He spun around to face the samurai, and as he turned he swung the spear with him. The samurai
The samurai stared back at us, motionless.
“Fine? Is good? Hola? Si?”
The samurai stared back at us, motionless.
“Oh great,” I said. “I think something’s wrong with the Auto-Translator. He’s not getting a word I say. Sam, you know some Japanese words. Get up here and use them.”
“No way,” said Sam, edging behind Fred. “I said I learned a few words. I didn’t say I learned how to. beg a fully armed samurai warrior not to slice off our heads with his razor-sharp sword.”
Fred pushed Sam forward. “Well just say whatever you’ve got—hello, sorry, see ya. I don’t think we want to mess with this guy.”
Light glinted off the samurai’s red-lipped black metal faceplate. Sam inched forward.
“Um ... well... konichiwa, samurai. My friends and I—Joe-san, Fred-san, Sam-san—are so sorry ... um, so zannen ... for coming into your house.”
A stick fell in the fire and shot up a blaze of light. The samurai seemed to look down at Sam’s feet and frown. Sam looked down at his sneakers.
“Oh no.” He turned to us. “Quick, take your shoes off and throw them over there on the dirt part of the room.”
“What?” said Fred. “He doesn’t like the smell of our sneakers? This guy is starting to sound like my mom.”
“No,” said Sam. “It’s terribly impolite to ever wear your shoes in anyone’s home in Japan. He could cut our heads off for such an insult.”
“He’s definitely starting to sound like my mom,” I said.
But it didn’t seem worth it to lose our head over shoes, so we slipped them off and tossed them over onto the dirt floor. Sam bowed. Fred and I bowed along with him.
“Sooo sorry. So sorry,” said Sam. “We are sorry, very sorry, I can’t tell you how sorry, so please-don’ t-do-anything-with-your-sword-there-because-we-were-wearing-shoes-inside-your-house-and-we- are-stupid-heads sorry.”
“Hey, speak for yourself,” said Fred.
The fire blazed up again. The samurai in the shadows seemed to look down again.
“Oh right,” said Sam. “We’re supposed to kneel down in front of him because he is a samurai.” Sam knelt down. Fred and I copied him.
The samurai stared at us and said nothing. Seconds drifted by. No one said anything. We looked at him. He looked at us. Seconds turned into minutes. No one said anything.
“I think he’s testing us,” Sam half whispered out of one side of his mouth.
“Well, I think I’ve had about enough testing,” said Fred. “Tell him it’s been real, it’s been nice, but we’ve got a Book to catch.”
“Patience,” whispered Sam. “Samurai are impressed by patience and control.”
“Maybe we can patiently back out of here,” I said. “My knees are killing me.”
“Please don’t use that k-word,” whispered Sam.
“Hey, check it out,” said Fred. He nodded toward the wall closest to us. Three long spear poles with machete-style blades at the ends leaned against the wall.
“Those are closer to us than they are to him,” said Fred. “There are three of us and only one of him.”
Sam turned completely ghost white. “No, no, no. Don’t you remember Blade of Lightning? Samurai are fast enough to take on ten guys with spears and swords.”
It was too late. I could tell Fred had already made up his mind. He got up slowly, pretending to stretch his legs.
“Oh, that’s it. Just needed to stretch the old—”
Then it all happened in a second. Fred jumped for the machete-spear weapon. His shadow flashed across the samurai.
“Look out Fred!” yelled Sam. “He’s going for his sword!”
I dove for the samurai’s feet and smacked my head on his shin guards. The samurai fell toward Fred. Fred grabbed the spear. He spun around to face the samurai, and as he turned he swung the spear with him. The samurai
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