He was running for so many reasons…running for his life, running from one life, running to another life, running because he was late…so very late…and he prayed it wasn't too late…

Heather never cared much for blind dates.

Unfortunately, the women in her family married rather early in life, and as Heather got older, they made it their personal mission to find her a man. At first she resisted their good, albeit misguided, intentions with a vengeance, refusing any and all attempts to be fixed up. But when Heather turned 30 and was still without a husband, her Aunt Sheila gave her a coffee table book entitled Spinsters Who Died Alone and were Eaten by Their Cats. Where she got it, Heather didn't know, but the message was loud and clear.

So Heather resigned herself to a once-a-month ritual of the blind date with a guy who was the son or the nephew or the cousin or the delivery boy of her mother's best friend's stepdaughter's cousin, or whatever. Essentially they were all the same: Bland, boring, clock-punching office drones. Tonight's date was no exception. His name was Bob, and he was an accountant or something; his father worked in the same office as Heather's mother.

It wasn't that Heather didn't enjoy dating. She actually dated quite a bit…just not the type of guys one would take home to meet the family. In fact, as soon as she could ditch Bob she'd be off to her second date of the night; his name was Zartan, a tattoo and piercing artist who earned extra cash by swallowing things people threw at him. They were going to a rave, and afterwards head over to the secret drag races that made the movie The Fast and the Furious look like a go-cart race. Finally, they'd break into the Bronx Zoo and make love in the reptile house, among the poisonous snakes. It was definitely not the kind of evening she expected to spend with any of the "Bobs" her family threw at her.

Essentially, the blind dates were the price she had to pay to keep her dating preferences a secret from her family; as long as it looked like she was trying to find a nice guy, her relatives backed off. Besides, surely they would run out of sons-nephews-cousins-delivery boys sooner or later.

Sitting at the table in the restaurant, Heather checked her watch again. Bob was nearly an hour late; it looked as though she had been stood up. While this would upset the average female, Heather couldn't be happier; it not only meant she was off the hook, but she and Zartan would have time for a pre-rave lovemaking session. She reached for her cell phone.

"HEATHER!" A shrill voice yelled. Startled, Heather looked up and saw a man standing in the middle of the restaurant. "HEATHER!" He cried again, looking around.

Heather cringed. The guy was short, skinny, and blonde, the exact opposite of the tall, dark, and handsome men she was usually attracted to. His fashion sense was no better; his clothing looked like black and grey pajamas with some kind of red design on the chest, and they were dirty and rumpled, just like his hair. Heather slid down in her seat and stayed quiet; maybe if she didn't move or breathe he wouldn't be able to find…

Suddenly the man spotted her. "Hey, Heather!" He cried, waving as he walked over. Soon he was standing next to her table. "You're Heather, right? My dad told me all about you." Before she could respond, he plopped down at the table and began looking her over. "He said you had a rack as nice as your mom's, but DAMN!"

Heather pushed back in her chair and wrinkled her nose, not from his crude comment, but from the stench. The guy smelled like he just crawled out of a sewer. "Sorry I'm late," Bob said, cramming a dinner roll into his mouth. "I came straight from work and didn't have time to change."

"Well, if this is a bad time…" Heather said while fumbling for her coat.

"I was supposed to get out of work two hours ago," Bob said, spitting crumbs like bullets. "Then those stupid turtles screwed things up again!!"

"Huh?" Heather blinked. "Turtles?"

"Yeah, they're always screwing things up!" Bob griped. "The boss hatches some evil plan, we start to execute the plan, those mutant freaks show up, kick the snot out of us, and foil the plan! You could set your watch by it!"

"Sooo…you were delayed by mutant…turtles?" Heather said, trying to make sense of what she was hearing. "I-um, didn't know accountants…"

Bob snorted. "I'm not an accountant. That's just what my parents tell people because they're ashamed of me. I'm a ninja."

"A ninja?" Heather blinked. "As in…a ninja??"

"Yup," Bob sighed, reaching for another roll. "It sounded so glamorous when I first signed up…travel to exotic places, meet interesting people, command fear and respect while you kick some butt…little did I know that I would be the one getting my butt kicked! But in hindsight, I guess I should have suspected something when they made me sign my contract in blood."

"Huh?" Heather blinked again.

"It's been nothing but long hours with no overtime getting my butt kicked by all kinds of weirdos…mutants, aliens, demons, you name it! Basically you're a punching bag with feet unless you're in the elite guard. Now that's a sweet gig! They get cool uniforms, nice hats, know this really cool teleportation trick, and they don't have to jump into the fight unless the enemy gets tired of pounding on us ordinary ninjas…and let me tell you, they never get tired of pounding on us ordinary ninjas! But hands down, the worst part of the job is my boss."

"Yeah, my boss is a pain in the ass too," Heather said, grabbing the opportunity to jump into the conversation. "We used to get free soda in the break room, but he decided to cut costs by taking them away and installing a vending machine! What a jerk!"

"Yeah, that does suck," Bob said. "You know what else sucks? When the boss blames you for something that wasn't your fault, and then he stabs you in the heart! Like tonight, for example…as soon as he found out the plan failed, he was all slash, slash, slash!! All you can do in a situation like that is duck and cover. I got away okay, but poor Murray…now I gotta find a new fourth for poker night."

Heather said nothing. How was she supposed to respond to that? Not that Bob gave her a chance; when one tirade ended, he immediately launched into another.

"As if my job wasn't hard enough, my family is always giving me grief! 'When are you going to get a real job?' 'Your brother just got promoted to regional manager, why can't you be more like him?' 'You know, most boys quit playing make believe by the time they're six. Are you ever going to grow up?' It never ends!" Bob angrily tore a huge chunk out of the roll.

Heather sat there incredulously, watching him chew. Here was a man who claimed to be a real ninja, mixing it up with all kinds of freaks, whose boss murdered people, including his own employees, on a daily basis. Either this guy was crazy, or he was telling the truth, which would make him even more crazy.

She liked crazy.

Heather smiled. "So Bob…do you like the zoo?"