Jon Scieszka - Time Warp Trio 10 - Sam Samurai

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THE TIME WARP TRIO

Sam Samurai

by Jon Scieszka

ONE

Sam stood frozen in his ready karate pose. He spoke in a low voice.

"Do not move an inch.

If we're where I think we are,

We are dead meat."

"What are you talking about?" said Fred loudly. "So we're probably in Japan. I'll bet we can get

some great noodles and sushi."

I wasn't sure exactly where Sam thought we were, but I knew we weren't in Sam's house anymore. Fred,

Sam, and I were standing on a low wooden platform that covered most of a small dirt floor room. A flickering

fire burned in a rectangular pit cut into the side of the platform near the dirt floor. A metal teapot hung

over the fire from a long hook in the ceiling. In the jumpy light I could just make out a few mats around

the fire pit. There were no chairs, no tables, no beds.

I whispered to Sam and Fred as I looked around the room, "It sure looks like Japan, but I think we are

okay because there aren't any samur-aaiiiiieeee!"

A crazy, wild scream exploded out of me. All three of us jumped against the wall, because there in the

farthest, darkest corner of the room, looking just like the guy in the picture Sam had shown us, sat a samurai

warrior in full battle gear.

Layers of shiny black and red strips of armor covered his shoulders. A breastplate and skirt kind of thing of

the same strips tied with gold cords covered his chest and lower body. He wore black leather and chain arm

covers, padded shin guards and foot covers, and a wild gold-horned black helmet sprouting side flaps. A thin

gold sliver shaped like a new moon topped everything off.

He sat motionless in the corner, staring at us like we were rats in a trap.

"Oh . . . my . . . ga-ga-gosh," gasped Sam. "I told you this is what would happen."

Even Fred, who is pretty hard to rattle, sucked in a nervous breath.

I quickly bowed my most serious bow like I had seen in Sam's samurai movies. "Gee Mr. Samurai guy, we

are very sorry for time warping into your house like this. All we have to do is find our Book and then we'll

be on our way. Okay?"

The samurai stared back at us, motionless.

"Fine? Is good? Hola? Sir

The samurai stared back at us, motionless.

"Oh great," I said. "I think something's wrong with the Auto-Translator. He's not getting a word I say. Sam,

you know some Japanese words. Get up here and use them."

"No way," said Sam, edging behind Fred. "I said I learned a few words. I didn't say I learned how to beg a

fully armed samurai warrior not to slice off our heads with his razor-sharp sword."

Fred pushed Sam forward. "Well just say whatever you've got-hello, sorry, see ya. I don't think we want to

mess with this guy."

Light glinted off the samurai's red-lipped black metal faceplate. Sam inched forward.

"Urn . . . well . . . konichiwa, samurai. My friends and I-Joe-san, Fred-san, Sam-san-are so sorry . . . um, so

zannen ... for coming into your house."

A stick fell in the fire and shot up a blaze of light. The samurai seemed to look down at Sam's feet

and frown. Sam looked down at his sneakers.

"Oh no." He turned to us. "Quick, take your shoes off and throw them over there on the dirt

part of the room."

"What?" said Fred. "He doesn't like the smell of our sneakers? This guy is starting to sound like my

mom."

"No," said Sam. "It's terribly impolite to ever wear your shoes in anyone's home in Japan. He could cut

our heads off for such an insult."

"He's definitely starting to sound like my mom," I said.

But it didn't seem worth it to lose our head over shoes, so we slipped them off and tossed them over onto

the dirt floor. Sam bowed. Fred and I bowed along with him.

"Sooo sorry. So sorry," said Sam. "We are sorry, very sorry, I can't tell you how sorry, so

please-don't-do-anything-with-your-sword-there-because-we-were-wearing-shoes-inside-your-house-and-we-

are-stupid-heads sorry."

"Hey, speak for yourself," said Fred.

The fire blazed up again. The samurai in the shadows seemed to look down again.

"Oh right," said Sam. "We're supposed to kneel down in front of him because he is a samurai." Sam

knelt down. Fred and I copied him.

The samurai stared at us and said nothing. Seconds drifted by. No one said anything. We looked at him. He

looked at us. Seconds turned into minutes. No one said anything.

"I think he's testing us," Sam half whispered out of one side of his mouth.

"Well, I think I've had about enough testing," said Fred. "Tell him it's been real, it's been nice, but we've got a

Book to catch."

"Patience," whispered Sam. "Samurai are impressed by patience and control."

"Maybe we can patiently back out of here," I said. "My knees are killing me."

"Please don't use that k-word," whispered Sam.

"Hey, check it out," said Fred. He nodded toward the wall closest to us. Three long spear poles with

machete-style blades at the ends leaned against the wall.

"Those are closer to us than they are to him," said Fred. "There are three of us and only one of him." Sam

turned completely ghost white. "No, no, no. Don't you remember Blade of Lightning? Samurai are fast enough

to take on ten guys with spears and swords."

It was too late. I could tell Fred had already made up his mind. He got up slowly, pretending to stretch his

legs.

"Oh, that's it. Just needed to stretch the old-"

Then it all happened in a second. Fred jumped for the machete-spear weapon. His shadow flashed across

the samurai.

"Look out Fred!" yelled Sam. "He's going for his sword!"

I dove for the samurai's feet and smacked my head on his shin guards. The samurai fell toward Fred. Fred

grabbed the spear. He spun around to face the samurai, and as he turned he swung the spear with him.

The samurai lunged. The blade of the spear caught the samurai just under the chin and sliced his head right off

his shoulders.

The armored body part crashed to the floor. The helmeted head rolled and rolled and came to rest next to

the fire pit. The red-lipped black faceplate stared at us in the light of the dying fire.

Sam and I stood up. Fred looked at the blade of the spear.

"Sorry?"

TWO

First of all, I want you to know that Fred and Sam and I are very sorry for any trouble we might have

accidentally caused in the universe by slicing off someone's head five hundred years before we were born.

Maybe one of your ancestors got turned into a monkey or a pig because of Fred's spear chop. Maybe you

are a monkey or a pig because of Fred's spear chop. I don't know. We're not exactly sure what happens when

someone messes with the past like we sometimes do. But we are working on it. And we are sorry. So ... well

. . . sorry, or "eee eee" or "oink oink."

Secondly, before we lose our own heads for being so impolite, for wearing shoes indoors, for

moving a guy's head closer to the fire, I'd like to try to explain how we got into this latest Time Warp

jam.

If you are still reading this, and haven't stomped off to go yell at the bookstore owner or teacher or

librarian who would let children read such terrible things, you probably already know this is all because of a

book. The Book. A dark blue book covered with strange silver writing and signs.

I got The Book as a birthday present from my Uncle Joe. He's kind of a magician. Oh, and did I mention that

The Book can send its readers anywhere in time and space? Did I mention that the only way to return to the

present is to find The Book in that past or future time? Did I mention that The Book always disappears no

matter what we do and leaves us stranded when we Time Warp? Did I mention this is beginning to drive

me crazy!!?? Sorry.

I guess I just get a little annoyed because Fred and Sam and I are having a hard time making this time

warping thing work when even our own great-granddaughters, who are girls, and a hundred years younger than

us, can figure it out and- I'm screaming again. Sorry. This messing around with time gets very complicated.

Here, why don't

I just tell you what happened. Maybe you can figure it out. If you do, send me a postcard, and we'll be happy

to try your idea for hanging on to The Book. If you don't have any bright ideas (or are still yelling at the

bookstore owner, teacher, or librarian), save your stamp.

We were over at Sam's house, working on our homework.

"Write three different examples of haiku," Sam read from the assignment sheet. "Use the form five

syllables for the first line, seven syllables for the second line, and five syllables for the last line. Remember

the examples we studied in class."

"Oh man," said Fred. "I can't believe it. This is such a goof ball thing. Writing poetry."

Sam squinted at Fred and adjusted his glasses like he does when he's thinking. "Two more and you're done."

Fred pushed his Yomiuri Giants hat back on his head. "What?"

"You've got your first haiku," said Sam.

"I can't believe it.

This is such a goofball thing.

Writing poetry."

"Wow," said Fred. "I'm a natural." He pulled out a half-ripped piece of paper and started writing it

down.

"Fred, I was kidding. Hand that in to Ms. Basho, and she will freak out." Sam squinted again.

"Though that's a pretty decent haiku, too.

"Fred, I was kidding. Hand that in to Ms. Basho, And she will freak out."

"Come on, guys. Let's get serious and finish this homework. I want to show you this trick I figured out," I

said. "Didn't Ms. Basho say we have to write about Japanese things like cherry blossoms or ninjas?"

"No, no, no," said Sam. "Why does every American kid think Japan is all about ninjas?"

"Because you see them in every computer game, cartoon, and kung-fu movie?" said Fred.

"Historical research shows most ninjas were just hired robbers. The real warriors in Japan were the

samurai," said Sam. "Let me show you these guys."

Sam scooped up a pile of books from his mom's desk, dumped them on the kitchen table, and

started flipping through them like a maniac. In case you haven't noticed, Sam's like that. He's a maniac

for something different every week. Last week he knew everything about sharks. This week it was everything

about Japanese samurai warriors. I don't know where he gets it. Though now that I think of it, I guess he

does get a lot of that craziness from his mom. Sam lives with just his mom. She writes stuff for magazines and

books and computer sites. She knows all kinds of stuff, and she's always going crazy over whatever she's

working on.

"Definitely," said Sam. "The winning general had the heads of the losers in battle washed and combed. Then

he inspected them. If the eyes were looking up, that was unlucky. Eyes looking down or closed were lucky."

"Either way sounds pretty unlucky for the guy losing his head," I said.

Sam threw out more pictures of armored and helmeted samurai in battle. "And you've got to see these

movies I've been watching with my mom. She's writing this article on samurai. We've seen

"Look at these stone castles. Four hundred, five hundred years old. Look at these armies. Check out

these swords." Sam flopped open a book to a picture of two beautiful swords, one long, one short. "The

long one is called a katana. The short one is called a wakizashi. If you were a samurai, you carried both

swords tucked into your sash. And here's how sharp they were."

Sam opened another book to a black-and-white drawing of samurai warriors looking at two shelves.

The shelves were full of heads. Yes-heads. Just . . . heads.

"Oh man," said Fred. "I guess they were the losers."

Seven Samurai, Shogun, Ran, Samurai-"

"Aren't they all in Japanese?" said Fred. "I hate those movies where you have to read them."

"There's not many words in the good action scenes," said Sam. "And I started to learn some Japanese just

from listening."

I looked up from the samurai warlords book. "Hey that's the trick I was going to show you. Remember when

you asked how come everyone speaks English no matter where we time warp?"

"Yeah," said Sam.

"Well, you were right. I found a part in The Book that explains the Auto-Translator. It automatically

translates everything into The Book user's language. Look." I pulled a thin blue book covered with silver

writing and designs out of my backpack.

Sam jumped up from the kitchen table. "Are you crazy? Put that away! You know if you get that thing

anywhere near those samurai books something is going to happen and the next thing you know, we'll be back in

sixteen-hundred Japan with armored samurai trying to slice off our heads."

"Ah, calm down," said Fred, slapping Sam with his hat. "This sounds good. Maybe there is an Auto-Haiku

Writer or an Auto-Homework Doer in there. We could put our empty papers in there. Go get a slice of

pizza. Come back, and we're finished."

"I don't know," I said. "But look in the back here. I think I finally found the section that explains how The

Book works."

That got Sam interested. "Really?" He moved one step closer. "Just don't anybody touch any pictures or read

anything from The Book out loud."

I opened The Book to some strange diagrams and charts in the back. But that wasn't what got us in trouble.

It was what happened next.

"So what cranks The Book?" said Fred.

"What triggers the time warping?" I said.

"You mean the green mist?" said Sam.

A wisp of that very mist leaked out and curled around the samurai books.

Sam jumped into his ready karate position. "Stop! No! Yamero! Iie!"

"What did we do?" said Fred. "What did we say?"

The whirlpool of green time-traveling mist swirled around Sam's kitchen. And just before we were flushed

down four hundred years, I saw the answer. Time travel haiku.

"So what cranks The Book? What triggers the time warping? You mean the green mist?"

THREE

Fred, Sam, and I stared at the helmeted head resting by the fire. It stared back at us. We were too freaked

out to move.

"I guess he wasn't as fast as that guy in Lightning Samurai," I finally said.

Fred carefully leaned the spear back against the wall, then put his hands in his pockets. "You helped

slow him down by taking out his legs, Joe. And you saved me by yelling a warning, Sam. But I didn't mean to

whack his head off. I was just going to keep him covered while we found The Book."

"Speaking of which," said Sam. "Now I think we'd definitely better get The Book and get the heck out

of here. I don't know all of the samurai customs, but I'm pretty sure it's not polite to remove a samurai's head."

"Shouldn't we at least clean him up or put him back together?" I said. "Maybe no one will notice for a

while."

"That is disgusting," said Sam. "How are we going to clean-" Sam looked at the armored body. Then he

looked back at the head.

Soft daylight filtered into the room from outside. I heard birds chirping. The morning sun began to light the

corners of the room.

Sam looked at the armor again. He looked at the head. Then he started to laugh.

"Uh-oh," said Fred. "He's losing it."

I grabbed Sam by the shoulders. "Hang on, Sam. Don't worry. We'll find The Book. We'll get back to your

house."

Sam shook his head and only laughed harder. He tried to say something, pointing at the head. But the only

sound that came out of him was something like, "Eep ooh eh urh."

Fred looked at me. "Lost it."

I nodded.

Sam broke away from me. He picked up the head and tossed it to me.

I didn't want to catch it, but I couldn't help myself. I caught the head and closed my eyes. It seemed

oddly light. I opened one eye. I turned the helmet and mask over. That's when I saw what Sam had

realized. It wasn't a head. It was an empty helmet and mask.

Sam laughed. "That was no samurai. We just beat up a suit of armor."

Fred picked up the body. The arms and legs flopped loosely. Fred looked hugely relieved. The morning sun

poured into the room. Now we could see we had taken on a suit of armor sitting in a dark corner. The

shadows from the flickering fire had made it look like it was alive.

We all sat down on the edge of the wooden platform in our socks. It felt good to be alive. I held the

helmeted faceplate in my lap and looked it in the eye. "You want some more of that?"

"Yeah, come on, metalhead," said Fred. We both laughed.

"Though I do think you're right, Joe," said Sam, cleaning his glasses with his T-shirt.

"About what?"

"We should put everything back just like it was, find The Book, and get out of here."

For once, we all agreed. Fred sat the samurai armor back on its stool. I gave him back its head. Sam

searched the room for The Book.

We met back at the fire pit.

"As usual," said Sam. "Nothing. Nada. No Book. Nowhere. Don't you guys think this is starting to get

ridiculous? I mean we get thrown around time by looking at a picture, or touching some numbers, and now

from saying a group haiku! And what's with the disappearing Book? Why can't we ever hang on to it?"

Fred frowned and pulled on his hat. That's how I could tell he was thinking. "Yeah, what's the deal with that,

Joe?"

"That's what I was trying to show you," I said. "In that same section where I found out about the

Auto-Translator, there was a part about keeping track of The Book."

Sam's eyes lit up. "So what did it say?" "It's called the Eternal Return," I said. "It's something about

how The Book has to change to fit in with whatever time it's in."

"But what about holding on to it?" said Sam. "That's the part I didn't get," I said. "It said 'Look for the

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THETIMEWARPTRIOSamSamuraibyJonScieszkaONESamstoodfrozeninhisreadykaratepose.Hespokeinalowvoice."Donotmoveaninch.Ifwe'rewhereIthinkweare,Wearedeadmeat.""Whatareyoutalkingabout?"saidFredloudly."Sowe'reprobablyinJapan.I'llbetwecangetsomegreatnoodlesandsushi."Iwasn'tsureexactlywhereSamthoughtwewere,butI...

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Jon Scieszka - Time Warp Trio 10 - Sam Samurai

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