I’ve been watching you for a while now. I know what you have for breakfast, what color your bathroom towels are, and what your favorite underwear looks like. But it occurs to me that for all I know about you (and I must say, watching you masturbate to DVDs of The Thundercats is kinda creeping me out), you don’t know anything about me. So here’s your chance. Ask away.
And that mole on your left butt cheek? You probably need to get that thing checked out.
Luckily I’ve built up resistance to all forms of botanical poisons through my training in ninja school. The same training is what has allowed me to remain undetected for so long. It’s not as rare as you might think. In fact there’s seven more of us watching you right now.
Don’t put that in your mouth. You don’t know where it’s been.
You left the keys in the freezer. They were in your hand when you reached in there for that peperoni hot pocket and you dropped them. The soda was taken by a drunken Lindsey Lohan. You can’t let that chick anywhere near coke.
That was actually Bob, one of the other seven ninjas on your property currently. I’ll have a talk with him.
Seven ninjas? I thought I’d only counted five. But all those ninjas look the same to me.
By the way, you should should have a word with the two posted on my roof. They sleep on the job a lot, and I’m worried that they might fall off, into the swimming pool. Not that they wouldn’t be able to swim, of course, but I keep the sharks in there hungry.