Sam Samurai

Table of Contents

 

 

“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?”

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First published in the United States of America by Viking,
a division of Penguin Putnam Books for Young Readers, 2001
Published by Puffin Books, 2002
This edition published by Puffin Books, a division of Penguin Young Readers Group, 2006

 

Text copyright © Jon Scieszka, 2001

Illustrations copyright © Penguin Putnam Inc., 2001
Illustrations by Adam McCauley

 

All rights reserved

 

THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS HAS CATALOGED THE VIKING EDITION AS FOLLOWS:
Scieszka, Jon.
Sam Samurai / by Jon Scieszka ; illustrated by Adam McCauley.
p. cm.—(The time warp trio)
Summary: Joe, Fred, and Sam are transported to seventeenth century Japan where they in
furiate a Samurai warrior, encounter their great-granddaughters, and save their lives by
reciting an ancient form of poetry.

 

eISBN : 978-1-101-07777-1

 

The Time Warp Trio ® is a registered trademark of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

 

 

 

The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any
responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.

To Donna—
a real samurai
shuutome
(mother-in-law).
Jon

 

 

For Tim-san-
thanks!
Adam

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? Si?”

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.

“Um ... 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.