I was sitting in a coffee shop with my good friend and training partner, Carol, when Jason, a black belt, sits down to join us. After chatting a little, Jason looked straight at me and said, “This is your black belt test.”
This is your black belt test. I’m not joking.
You’re [transitive verb] me.
No, I’m not. Sifu Fred is right out there waiting.
He gestured toward the window.
I stopped breathing, turned bright red, but still refused to turn my head to look. I wasn’t falling for it, but there was still the tiniest kernel of fear that this might be legitimate.
Jason’s face broke into a wide grin. “Nah, I’m just joking. But you should see your face.”
Black belts are evil.