How To Be All Ninja Style
(Like A Ninja)

Some say respect. I say I have lust.

More intimidating than me.

Things To Look Out For When Chosing A Class:
     One of the most important parts of your training will be your instructor. Get a trainer you can respect. Also, that you fear. Like Sonic the Hedgehog at a Furries Convention, it's very important you are filled with fear.
     For example, every time my instructor throws a kick at me, I'm afraid that my face will explode off the side of my head. Also, I am afraid that the face will then become sentient and begin looking for bodies to inhabit/feast-on of it's own.
     The first time I saw my instructor throw a kick, I thought it was the fastest thing I had seen in my life. Sex with me aside. It was like Jean Claude Van Dam's Dim Mac Death Touch, only instead of bricks, his targets were made of smaller death touches. And those death touches, in turn, were made of smaller, but sensitive my-own groins.

Also scarier than me.

     Attendance, too, is important to your training. If you don't go to class, you won't learn all your moves. And if you don't learn all your moves, that cute girl who sits in the back of your math class will never ask you to the boxcar social. And you will be humiliated and cry.
     Not because you missed a date, but because you forgot to wear your pants that day to school. And also, your whole life turned out to be somebody's dream.
     Often I believe that every episode of Are You Afraid Of The Dark was hijacked from my own secret life.

     Most importantly, no matter what, do not be discouraged. The first time I attended class, I didn't know quite what to expect. I expected dozens of highly trained Shinobi, each armed with his own lightsaber from the future. Then, of course, I remembered that Star Wars all took place in the past, and the ninjas didn't need to time travel at all. But to beat them, I'd have to myself. And have nutty adventures with professors and skateboards. I'd name the adventure Time Spitters 2, and advise all my fans to attack the ninjas for me. All the while, defending myself against magazines showing naked, pregnant, smoking pictures of me. And my wife. David Copperfield.
     And losing my train of thought.

Scarier than me. For wholly different reasons.

Preparing To Battle:
     See, the look and attitude of a ninja are vitally important. One must look bad-ass, while still retaining an aura of focusedness. This is the very reason why I put on a tuxedo each time I beat up my school girls. Its probably the same reason that you put on a Terminator mask before you sneak into your sister's room to wank. The difference is, I make sure to pay the school girls for throwing the fight. And you just end up crying yourself to sleep on a bed covered in doilys. And panties and ham.
     Next, I got two piercings, just to be cool. Originally, I thought that this might strike fear into my opponents/punching-bags/Nintendo-controls-when-I-lose. The backfire occurred when I found out just how delicate pierced nipples can be.
     It's like I have three sets of genitals, each just ripe for kicking. And I don't know about you, but I'm a one-set-of-genitals kind of guy, myself.
     Unless you count that fictional tri-boob chick from Total Recall. I can be in love with that.
     Hell, once I pretended that a hand I was doing was a girl. Moreover, I then pretended that that girl was human and that I had a buster cannon. And that instead of bullets or some super powers, the cannon fired thousands of extra people's hands, just to all be touching my wang. There are like three kryptonite levels of you-proof insanity before you ever start to pierce the depths of my loser Inner Labs.

Unscary me. And I can prove it. . . Bitch.

     And so, until the day where I learn all my moves and actually beat the Ryu in my dreams, or at least until the day I shoot fireballs, or fireballs-out-of-guns, the streets will be a dangerous place.
     Because on that fateful day, when I learn all three: ninjitsu, dodge ball, and legal murder, video games will have no place inside of me at all.
     I am a more than mysterious man. It is rumored that I could be nothing more than a drug-induced mass hypnosis or some sort of scientific weather hot air balloon.
     Little do the people know. If I were a weather balloon, I could think of a wittier way to end this.
     And I'd be filled, I think with a sweet smelling gas.
     But probably with ghosts.


By Danny