Semper Gumby

So I might have mentioned that I enjoy various types of martial arts. I've studied a little bit here, a little bit there, and a little bit of quite a few styles, at one point of time or another. I've even learned a little bit, too, I suppose.

One year I fell in with a group that taught a little bit o' everything. No uniforms, few 'rules', just a small group of guys that met at a local gym and pounded the heck outta eachother. Good times. The guy who led the group helped to run a school in a nearby city for a few years, and then moved here for college.

One day at class, he mentioned that his old school was going to have an informal seminar / fight night thing, and that if I was interested, I should go and check it out. He explained that a few of his old teachers would be there, and that the matches should be quite... vigorous at the least. Let me put it this way, groin shots were not recommended, but the prevailing thought was, if you took a shot to the nuts, you should have had a better and faster defense.

Only problem was getting released by the Gunny a few hours early at the end of the day / night of the seminar.

I only halfway expected a positive response, and that was about what I got. I guess Gunny felt that as I was asking for a few hours at the end of a slow day to go partake in a give n' take ass kicking session, it could be considered somewhat work-related, or something. It didn't mean that he couldn't give me some grief, though. Considering that I wouldn't have been terribly surprised with an outright 'no', a little grief was good to go.

One last conversation that I was having with him and a few other Staff-NCOs, and one of them hadn't known that I did martial arts. Most of the guys in my platoon knew, and I had by then somewhat appointed as one of the resident platoon hand-to-hand nuts who'd be called on to assist/teach a class, now and then. This Staff Sergeant looked at scrawny li'l me and grumbled, "You do that ninjer stuff? Show me something!"

Slight problem.

What was I going to do, tell him to 'Grab. Mah. Wrist.'?

I knew that I didn't want him to throw a punch my way. Hell, I might not survive it.

I knew that if I kicked him upside the head, I better make it quick and really good, or I definitely wouldn't survive it.

...

...

...


So I dropped down into the splits.



I used to be really flexible, and hadn't really streched out for a while, but the commentary was definitely worth it. I knew I was golden when I heard a passing Marine exlaim, "Sweet baby Jesus, Gunny, make it stop!"