More Karate Randomness

You gotta read the last handful of Friday posts to be up to speed on this series of tales on fisticuffs if you haven't yet. Week 1, Week 2, Week 3, Week 4 and Week 5.

To the core, HMT and I didn't take any guff while training at Sensei Clause's dojo unless it came from Sensei Clause himself. Bcuz in that case, he and I would have been ground into sausage.. no thanks. Instead of standing up to his bullshit and pointing it out to him, something that would give him just cause to buy intestinal casing and have some fun with us, HMT and I would mock the shit out of everything he stood for. This didn't happen until he had lost all credibility in our minds so there was no disrespect that wasn't royally due.

The best memory of mocking class I have with HMT was on a Saturday afternoon. A few of the teens had stayed after class and HMT and I would beat them up or train a bit with them.. which 9 times out of 10 would involve HMT and I beating them up. Sensei Clause had been teaching classes from his chair and HMT and I were about fed up with the bullshit. It was insane! Clause would place a chair in the middle of the dojo and give orders, complaining about a groin pull or whatever the fuck. Total horseshit! If Frank Dux could stomach it, surely the million dollar purse winning Sensei Clause could. Fuck no.. he couldn't.

So HMT and I had to retaliate the best way we saw fit.. by turning his dojo into a complete circus. In a box of goodies, Sensei Clause had rubber pistols and knives for various training exercises. They were great. Picture a 2x6 of thick rubber cut into the form of a gun. Funniest looking guns ever. Well, we picked up the guns and distributed them to a few teens and decided to make a "Gun Form." It pretty much entailed the traditional bowing to begin followed by bustin' caps in the others. Before long, we decided implemented knives into the form.. making the form more melee oriented would be better.. more Kung-Fu, as it were.

The form became more and more degenerate capitalizing on every frustration HMT and I had for the mediocre teaching Sensei Clause had offered as of late. After we bored of those shenanigans we broke out with animal forms. These new Kung-Fu animals include: the rear-kicking Mule Style and the drop onto your belly, tuck in your limbs underneath you, thrust out your head to bite your opponents, Snapping Turtle Style.

All the while Sensei Clause is oblivious to this. He had been in his office the entire time while the brainstorming was happening, so no one was the wiser. The sound of giggling school girls eventually caught his attention and by the time we were completely out of control, Sensei Clause walks in. There's only two things to do here, HMT and I chose to have the nerve to perform everything we had been concocting in front of him. Needless to say, he wasn't impressed and probably wanted to beat the shit out of all of us. Fuck that I say. Fuck it all. To mock him for just one day and really dishonor his dojo made my fuckin day for all the stupid shit he Clause put us through.

Character Introduction: The chap that I feel it is in everyone's best interest for me to mention is a fellow that HMT and I dubbed, Sweet Peterson. From the name alone I am sure you guys can figure out that he was as smooth as churned butter. Somewhere along his travels being employed as a myrmidon, for Achilles himself (that's about the gayest picture I could find, my compliments to homosexual sculptors.. fabuloouuuusss), Sweet Peterson picked up a Cloak of Swiftness. This guy was probably as awkward as they come. He just didn't seem comfortable in his own skin. A good piece of trivia was that Sweet Peterson not only took martial arts but also fencing. You'd think between the two the guy would be talented but seriously, had it not been for additional training in fencing he would have probably been even worse at karate. The statement itself seems preposterous but I assure you, its true.

The best way to describe the guy physically and fashion-wise... Lets just say he was a typical white pretty boy from the 80s that didn't fit the part and tried desperately to be like Val Kilmer from Top Gun by wearing his trusty bomber jacket. Now, in my opinion, there is nothing more irritating than when someone you know is a complete asshat tries to come off like he's the Iceman. That's the pinnacle of my hatred, asshat trying to come off as Iceman. Everything trickles down from there. Mmhmm.

Some memorable times with Sweet Peterson include kicking his ass every time I sparred with him, watching him attempting a spinning heel kick only to fall or catch himself very awkwardly before he fell, watching HMT kick his ass every time he sparred him, watching him crap out exhausted when the teens were still going strong and watching Sensei Clause kick his ass every time he sparred him. Fuck I miss the dojo. The reason for the introduction of Sweet Peterson rises to a thunderous crescendo in next week's post: Dojo Poker Nights.