On Thanksgiving, while I was busy basting the Tofurky, horrible delinquents broke into my car. Obviously there was nothing left to take, since they had stolen everything in the previous eight break-ins throughout these past three years. It has gotten so often that I’m thinking of leaving little cards in the glove compartment that say, “Keep this card with you and get it stamped every time you break into my car. After the 9th break-in, the 10th one is free!” Just like bubble tea!

The stereo has been gone since the break-in two Christmases ago, and there was nothing of value in the trunk. They managed to take $1.75 in change that I had in the glove compartment for parking. However, they did take a whole giant batch of peanut-butter cornflake treats that Jameelah had made for our Thanksgiving dinner. She used her grandmother’s recipe, which called for an entire pound of (vegan) butter, which means they were very good, and we both were bummed out. For the rest of the evening, we sat in the corner, chewing on our Tofurky, quaking with bitterness and consternation, and for dessert, we had … fresh fruit! Oh, the humanity! Fresh fruit for Thanksgiving dessert! We might as well live in a third-world country.

Besides that, Thanksgiving was great. The family got together, cooked, ate, and only spent a few minutes making fun of our vegan food. And my little nephew, Kenny, was there the whole time. He’s become extremely cute, nowhere near resembling the amorphous, subhuman larva he was as a newborn.

Holding my nephew, who tried to feed himself through directing the spoon at his eye, and thinking of my car, I had this idea. This brilliant idea. I’ll be a mentor to Kenny. That’s right, I’ll take Kenny under my wings and teach him and train him, helping him grow strong and smart and agile. I’ll build an underground lair, and teach Kenny martial arts and secret ninja mind techniques, until one day, when he is finally of age, I will bring him to a cliff and reveal to him that all of his training is preparing him to be … The Car Break-In Avenger.

“Wait, Uncle Huy,” he might say, “You trained me all this time, and brought me to this cliff, so that I can avenge people whose cars got broken into? Shouldn’t I worry about kidnappers and armed robbers and Tea Party Republicans?”

“Do not underestimate your purpose, grasshopper,” I would say in a wise mentorly voice. “Do not the innocents, too, suffer at the sight of shattered windows, the contents of their glove compartments strewn about their car? Can you feel their cries of outrage and frustration? No, do not scorn and pass over this seemingly lowly of crimes.” Then I would look into space, as if staring into a tragic past (come on, eight break-ins!) while whispering slowly and with much gravity: “It is freedom they rip from the dash when they take the stereo, nephew; one day you will understand.”

Wherever Honda Accord windows are pried, there he will be. Whenever a car alarm goes off, the Avenger will quickly descend like the sword of justice upon the hooligans who prey upon the citizens who leave their cars to attend meetings, to grab a quick bite, to buy scented candles, or to be with family during holidays. Their crowbars will be kicked out of their hands, their hooks made from coat hangers will be broken by a ninja star as the Avenger swings down and teaches these evil-doers a lesson with swift kicks and punches to theme music.

That will be the day. I can’t wait till Kenny is 5 years-old; that’s when the ninjitsu training will start.

Still hungry for Noodles? Visit Huy’s blog at: www.Jaggednoodles.wordpress.com.

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