“Me too, I hate crime with a passion”
Then you’re doing it wrong.
No, but perhaps Gorgon Heap’s dog needs a better one?
I will join you, if you will have me. When I was a boy, the Black Hand slew my entire village. I escaped into the fields, but not without this scar. Since that time I have trained night and day for twenty long years with this, my fathers blade, and dreamed only of…vengeance!
I ask only one thing: when we find the hidden temple, the ninja with the tattoo of the dragon is mine!
Not necessarily. It might be a duck!
The ninja with the tattoo of the duck is davidm’s
All enemies of the Black Hand are welcome. I shall not rest until the six-fingered Ninja is slain on my blade.
Mmm…salami.
Six-fingered ninja. The sixth finger? For picking his nose, of course. And he has a fourth (third?) leg.
Not sure about my dog’s colon. Maybe a bowl of Super Colonblow[sup]TM[/sup] would help.
And jbj, I picked up what you mentioned, so I’ll try it for breakfast.
Jeez, try to demonstrate Gaudere’s Law to a newbie and this is what you get 
And dare I say that my dear friend Tars Tarkas is starting to befuddle those on this board who aren’t fans of bargain barrel kung-fu flicks? I think next time I see him, I may suggest he write a screenplay for one. There hasn’t been a good one since Legend of Drunken Master, after all.
So if Frodo lost 3 more fingers he’d become a ninja? Oh wait – that belongs in that monolithic thread over in CS
Damn. Now I want a salami-and-cheese sammich. And I don’t have any salami. Or cheese*. Or bread. 
*My roomie has Kraft American cheese slices, but that’s not real cheese.
Rex, who knows how thing like this work for hobbits?
And sorry, Kat but that’s pretty much all I have too.
I could start another damn Pit thread about the fucking Commissary and the shitty deli they have here.
“Boars Head” Blech!!!
Oh, yes, and in only the most self-serving manner possible, I would like to congratulate myself on a thread well-hyjacked.
with apologies to the original
I like ninjas.
The pet store was selling them for 5¢ a piece. I thought that odd since they were normally a couple thousand each. I decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. I bought 200. I like ninjas.
I took my 200 ninjas home. I have a big car. I let one drive. His name was Sigmund. He was retarded. In fact, none of them were really bright. They kept punching themselves in their genitals. I laughed. Then they punched my genitals. I stopped laughing.
I herded them into my room. They didn’t adapt very well to their new environment. They would screech, hurl themselves off of the couch at high speeds and slam into the wall. Although humorous at first, the spectacle lost its novelty halfway into its third hour.
Two hours later I found out why all the ninjas were so inexpensive: they all died. No apparent reason. They all just sorta’ dropped dead. Kinda’ like when you buy a goldfish and it dies five hours later. Damn cheap ninjas.
I didn’t know what to do. There were 200 dead ninjas lying all over my room, on the bed, in the dresser, hanging from my bookcase. It looked like I had 200 throw rugs.
I tried to flush one down the toilet. It didn’t work. It got stuck. Then I had one dead, wet ninja and 199 dead, dry ninjas.
I tried pretending that they were just stuffed animals. That worked for a while, that is until they began to decompose. It started to smell real bad.
I had to pee but there was a dead ninja in the toilet and I didn’t want to call the plumber. I was embarrassed.
I tried to slow down the decomposition by freezing them. Unfortunately there was only enough room for two ninjas at a time so I had to change them every 30 seconds. I also had to eat all the food in the freezer so it didn’t all go bad.
I tried burning them. Little did I know my bed was flammable. I had to extinguish the fire.
Then I had one dead, wet ninja in my toilet, two dead, frozen ninjas in my freezer, and 197 dead, charred ninjas in a pile on my bed. The odor wasn’t improving.
I became agitated at my inability to dispose of my ninjas and to use the bathroom. I severely beat one of my ninjas. I felt better.
I tried throwing them way but the garbage man said that the city wasn’t allowed to dispose of charred primates. I told him that I had a wet one. He couldn’t take that one either. I didn’t bother asking about the frozen ones.
I finally arrived at a solution. I gave them out as Christmas gifts. My friends didn’t know quite what to say. They pretended that they like them but I could tell they were lying. Ingrates. So I punched them in the genitals.
I like ninjas.
Oh, and these guys are the best
great ninja burger delivery service. (Not available in Detroit)
And why is it, that after neary two years here, I still insist on spelling hijacked with a “y”?
Ah, well!
Happy Friday, all!
You want to know what my problem is?
I’m just a bastard.
What was this thread about again? Oh, that’s right. Ninjas.
Well, I agree with the OP. Ninjas look best when painted with a nice textured paint, like Ralph Laren, or Behr.
[Tick]
Those ninjas… They’re wacky!
[/Tick]
So I’m talking to my good friend Alias (that’s a weird enough sentence in itself, isn’t it? Or dependent clause, I suppose), and she tells me that she did something stupid. I ask her what she did, and she tells me that she posted this big long rant in the BBQ pit about people having attitude on the boards. Unfortunately, since we share a computer, she didn’t notice that I was logged in, and she wasn’t, so I got credit for her rant. So I thought I’d stop by and see if I was hated yet. Doesn’t look like it.
Damn. I’ll have to try harder.
Thanks for the compliments on my name, though. If I had a band, that would be the name. Or Dr. H and the Hypothetical Schoolbus. Or did you already have this thread? I’m such a fool!
Tips on being hated:
- Do incredibly evil things
- Serve cat head pudding at next ASPCA picnic (leave the heads on)
- Spell poorly (like that OpalCat girl goes on about)
- Randomly stab people in the hand
- Hijack thread with inane nonsense
- Fart on a ski lift (I hope you face plant, you bastard!)
- Write and direct ST5:TFF