"Bonsai to you Gaijin"

It started out like a fun night. Dinner with friend at Benihana's. That is until moments after our chef's demonstration with his fork and spatula. After tapping out a pathetic drum solo on the edge of the cooking grill he spontaneously placed both of his tools into one hand and playfully offered them to "Chaos" in an attempt to engage the "Urban Terrorist" leader. Sensing pending doom, I ordered as many drinks as the waitress could carry. Unbeknownst to our hapless chef, Chaos exhibited the speed of a Samurai and grabbed the fork swinging his arm backwards playfully....loosing his grip and inadvertently sending the fork on a ballistic arc towards the table behind us. I closed my eyes as my ears flooded with the piercing scream of the chef aft of our table.  Slowly, acting as if I did not the assailant next to me, I turned in time to see the poor man fall forward and sear the left side of face just inches from a diners Yakisobe vegetables. The waiters quickly pulled him from further danger and applied a slab of Tuna to the reddened cheek as they lay him across his server cart, wheeling him towards a back room. Now, in his element, Chaos began to elevate the terror threat level towards Crimson, a new color added by the CIA, FBI, TSA, NSA, MADD and local Hells Angels affiliates....all in response to his prior attacks. Our chef began to studiously cook the meals ordered from the assembled patrons. Now fearing the "creature" sitting across the grill from him he attempted to apply his trade while cautiously watching each and every move being made by the person to his right. Nervously, he started with fried rice, an appetizer that was a little less appetizing now that blood had been shed. He attempted to distract us with tricks by using eggs, but alas he failed.....his hands shaking so badly he inadvertently scrambled the eggs in their respective shells. He stirred and he fried and we each had our portion, although due to his apprehension there was fried rice everywhere. Seeing the fear in their chef, the manager brought over a large shot of Sake, and a small carafe to leave at the table for use as needed. He managed to get the orders right and on the correct plates and also worked his way through 4 more carafes of Sake, but was able to escape injury at the hands of Chaos. Finishing his meal, Chaos slipped the grip of his captors and began to cut a swath of terror through what was formerly known as "Benihana's of Burlingame." Much like a "Looney Tunes" cartoon, we could see where he was, but were not able to see him. People were falling and dishes were flying thru the air....occasionally somebody would spit out their drink much like Moe of the "Three Stooges." I have been at both ends of every cuss word known to man, but never in Japanese, apparently they have 3-4 times the number of profane words as the English language. We tried to pay for the meal and damages but were spurned by a little lady in a Kimono who continually slapped at me with a spatula while screaming "BONSAI."

After being discharged from the ER, his most recent attack a mere memory, Chaos seemed to joy himself on the fact that Daddy had to go through a psychiatric evaluation and counseling since nobody believed that a three year old was capable of inflicting such carnage upon an adult. My head was still throbbing after being whacked by my own frying pan, wrapped up in layers of gauze I looked like a Jihadist buffoon. My aft-end, swollen and stitched up like one of Grandmas quilts, I looked as if I had been stabbed repeatedly by a group of knife wielding oompa loompa's. Reeking of Garlic infused EVOO and the discharges of his breast fed counterparts in parental terrorism, all I wanted was a hot shower and a nap. I was exhausted, beaten and drained. Unable to defend myself let alone mount a counter-offensive, the leader of the parental terrorism cell began plotting his next attack. The turd was sporting a set of horns in an attempt to project himself as a cheery reindeer. Knowing his propensity for violence, my attempts at remaining alert in a my sleep deprived state proved futile.

I was sitting on the couch recuperating from the carnage inflicted upon me by chaos I could not help look but look into his adoring blue eyes and remind myself how cute he truly is. Nothing can melt your heart like your child telling you that he loves you. My ass full of stitches and a bloodstream full of narcotic painkillers, my ego ruthlessly mangled was sitting at my feet. He was holding my fingers and standing between my knees, looking into my eyes, squeaking out repeated "lubby doo's". Staring into my soul he told he wanted to hug me and I readily agreed. Using the fingers he was holding as handrails, he vaulted himself towards my lap, both feet landing on my thighs. Then the feeling of vomiting began to overtake my consciousness as I felt his foot sliding inward. It was a sickening feeling knowing there was no way I would be able stop the 44 lb. pile driver from flattening my wedding tackle. His rate of descent was only slowed by the resistance of the couch cushion refusing to compress any further. I started to scream in pain when I came to the sick realization that both of my sphincter muscles were open and in complete defiance of both gravity and vacuum........nothing was leaving either orifice. Before gravity was able exercise its basic principles, Chaos jumped in jubilation, thus managing to hydraulically force one of the seed making orbs that brought his little ass into this world, out my rectal regions at warp speed, milliseconds prior to slamming shut. With one of my sphincters shut this allowed a sudden pressure build up forcing out a high pitched scream that shattered the television screen. Thinking Daddy was reacting in a positive way to his jumping the little fart turned into a human jack-hammer. My wife said she had never seen anyone pass out as fast as I did. Regaining my consciousness I realized I was lying on the floor in the fetal position, reminiscent of the days when I drank myself into this same position. Somehow I managed to traverse the expanse of the upstairs area and ended up in the dining room. Chaos, proudly telling Mommy that Daddy could fly. Calling me a wuss and not understanding how anything could hurt that bad, Melanie told me to get off the floor and act like a man.  I attempted to speak, but was only capable of drooling, much a being stoned out of my skull and wanting a bag of Doritos and a chocolate shake. Quivering in pain my nemesis was sitting on me and telling how Mommy was letting him wear his "Thomas" underwear today. Until then I had not noticed he was sans diaper. It was also when I thought I heard him say "ooops."
I was slowly slipping into the much desired slumber I had been longing for. The images of a long hot shower filled my mind and slowly began to ease the tense muscles in my neck and upper back. Turning my to head to allow the shower to beat upon face suddenly the flow of water began to recede. Opening my eyes, there he he stood with his underwear down around his ankles proudly proclaiming he went potty without a diaper. Please help me......please.