WEYMOUTH — A man witnesses said was dressed like a ninja used a sword in an attempt to rob a dry cleaner on Main Street, police said. The man, wearing a ski mask and a sword in a sheath on his belt, walked into the Tedeschi convenience store at 1039 Main St. around 8 a.m. Monday, Sgt. Richard Fuller said. “All the witnesses said he was dressed like a ninja,” Fuller said. “He was in all black including the black ski mask. And they said it was a ‘ninja sword’ (he was carrying).” A clerk, alarmed by the man’s appearance, called police. When the man noticed her, he pulled his mask off and asked if she was calling about him, Fuller said. When she said she was, the man left the store and walked into nearby Galaxy Cleaners. There, Fuller said he pointed a sword at the register and asked a clerk to give him all of the money inside. She told him she couldn’t open the drawer, and the man left the scene, Fuller said. Police are still searching for the man, who witnesses said appeared to be in his late 20s.

This is another one of those stories that reminds me why I grew up in Weymouth but I didn’t want to raise kids there. Weymouth used to be a proud town. A working class community where people did things the right way. From our jobs to our schools to our athletics to our ninjas, you took pride in what you did. You didn’t have guys just walking into convenience stores in broad daylight and taking off their masks as soon as the clerk started dialing 911. And when you were robbing a dry cleaners you certainly didn’t fall for the old “I can’t open the drawer” trick. Our ninjas were stealthy assassins. Invisible, unholy, ruthless killers in the darkness. We were the night and any store clerk who stood in our way was dead before they could feel our cold steel. But this amateur might as well have been wearing a turtle costume and ordering pizza. First the world’s pirates have been reduced to a bunch of punks with guns sitting in bass boats and now my own hometown’s once-proud ninja population is a pathetic joke. Cue Springsteen’s “My Hometown” while I weep. (Thanks to Paul B. for the story.)