You find a wide empty room with blue spongy mats. You know immediately you are in a training room and in a far corner you see many books and videotapes. Curious as to what the contents pertain to, you browse a book. Interesting, you could press a fellah's throat directly above the intersection between the two collarbones or whatever they are called to disabled him. Martial arts, not a particularly relevant subject in your own opinion even for a private investigator. But nevertheless, a black chip lay in between some of the pages in the book.
7 May
Wow, today's wushu was very painful not to say in the least, we had to stretch with an upright posture which most teenagers care not for. Needless to say, it hurt like S***- whoops, I mean excrement. My tailbone feels a little weird and now I walk with my chest thrown out and my rear pointy. Actually that's what I did for two hours.
Enough graphic description lest it becomes R rated, for what? I don't know.
Joining Wushu to diversify my martial arts knowledge shouldn't be a bad thing. Well, no pain no gain. I never believed for a moment a taekwondo background would be helpful, at least there are similarities.
Anyway, why do I fight? A primal aggressive need to show strength? Survival of the fittest? Nah, not even remotely likely in this world of guns, who needs to learn to fight when you got a loaded AK-47?
Actually, not that it actually shows much unless you wanna apply to be a guard or bouncer. I don't have the arm size to show for it.
[display stick-like arms]
heh heh, disARMing eh?
[groans at bad joke]
Hah, I shall not prod thee with my rapier wit and disARMing personality.
[Author rides off to the sunset, his laughter is heard]
Ahhh, optimism, life's greatest thing for people.
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