• On a dark and stormy night, a young Ninja named Suzuki was infiltrating the Taliban headquarters on par of the orders of General Mc-Douche-f**. The mission was supposedly to find out what the Taliban was doing, stop it, and if possible, eliminate Osama Bin Laden. Suzuki wasn’t worried about any of the objectives, but his RFTS was due for Michelle Hood’s class tomorrow, which he hadn’t even started on yet. As Suzuki was formulating the ideas of a plot in his head, he was simultaneously racing along the barren, decrepit hallways of the Taliban base. The base was strewn with rats, stray hand-grenades, Ak-47s, a Rocket Launcher, and an issue of playboy magazine. Suzuki was looking for his mission objective when he abruptly paused, mid thought, wondering about where the heck he was. Suddenly, he saw shadows around a corner. Suzuki looked around for a hiding spot, but he was in a desolate area. There were no doors to hide behind. There were no boxes to hide under. And apparently, Suzuki wasn’t wearing his stealth Camo suit: he had dropped it off earlier at a Maytag store to dry clean it. So the young Asian-American Ninja’s only choice was to….COVER HIS EYES. As he covered his eyes, Suzuki thought…”If I can’t see them, they can’t see me, if I can’t see them, they can’t see me….If I can’t see them, they can’t see me….”and he kept chanting this mantra over and over in his mind. After about five minutes, Suzuki took a small peak out of the cracks of his fingers, and saw the trailing robes of the terrorists round an opposite corner. Suzuki scratched his head in amazement. He then shrugged to himself and kept moving. According to the tech officer back at the pentagon, the Taliban terrorists plans were kept in stock in a small room deep in the dark bowls of the base, guarded by a three headed dog, accompanied by about 300 men, each highly skilled with an array of fire arms. Nah! It was actually in locker of a guy named Dave…..a LOCKER THAT WAS DEEP IN THE BOWLS OF THE BASE, GUARDED BY A THREE HEADED DOG, AND ACCOMPANIED BY ABOUT 300 MEN, EACH HIGHLY SKILLED WITH AN ARRAY OF FIRE ARMS!!!! As this information was delicately relayed to Suzuki, he was thinking about what a douche bag this Dave guy was. Suzuki was currently flying down the hallways with a GPS enabled Asian Jet pack that was developed by Sony, and he thought that he would get to the locker in no time. But he was soon stopped by pimp that shared a remarkable resemblance to Eminem. Suzuki noticed that the pimp had a rather sharp sword, and when I say sword, I mean the metal stick that can chop, not the OTHER kind of sword. In one swift motion, Suzuki got off his jet pack, sat on top of it, still flying in the air, made a back flip, off of it, and landed on the smooth concrete ground. The jet pack rammed at break neck speed into the pimp, and the sword flew into Suzuki’s hand. Suzuki looked up with a smirk, and saw that he had arrived at the locker of the Douche Bag named Dave, and was duly welcomed by the entourage of a demon dog, and 300 Spartan Wannabes. With a cry of “FOR SUSHI!!!” Suzuki charged into the fray. He hacked left and right, the warm crimson liquid known as blood oozing from his swinging guillotine of metal, Asian doom. By about 5 seconds, he had cut his way through the 300 terrorist guards, deflecting bullets, cutting them in half, and basically doing everything anyone would expect seeing from a Warner Brothers film, except 100 times cooler. He then made his way to the three headed dog, and proceeded to staring up at the ugly monstrosity. The air was rancid with the smell of human flesh, Suzuki was half red because of the spilled carnage; when he noticed that some of the blood was in different shades of the rainbow. Some of the blood was not just red, but also blue, yellow, and sometimes green. Suzuki wrinkled his brow in confusion, when he was snapped out of his reverie by the deafening roar of the Cerberus. Suzuki then proceeded to leaping 3 stories off the ground, loping off each of the monster’s head in three swift strikes. He then fell from the exhaustion, for even a ninja gets tired, and struggled to get onto his feet. Suzuki then inched forward to the locker of the Douche Bag known as Dave, and realized that he was never given the combination to open it. Suzuki just shrugged, sliced off the lock, and opened the locker. He retrieved the Taliban plans from the dark storage unit and turned around to meet the muzzle of a rifle. And who else was at the trigger but Osama Bin Laden. “Well, well, we meet at last, Suzuki Nguyen.” Smirked Bin Laden
    “Indeed, Bin Laden.” Suzuki grimaced
    “Finally, I shall eradicate the worm that has been in my sSuzukidals for so long!” Bin Laden cried with joy.
    “What….What’s this?” Bin laden gasped, looking down onto his bleeding stomach.
    “When you talk with an Asian Ninja, make sure he doesn’t have a sword, or you’ll probably be killed by it douche bag.” Suzuki yelled in Schwarzzeneger-esque fashion. Bin Laden dropped onto the ground like a cheap bag of rice, and Suzuki took a photo of it with his new Verizon Alias Phone, backed up by the nation’s #1 network, so there are no dead zones, even Afghanistan, as proof for the president when he got back to America. And with an air of wisdom and recklessness, Suzuki turned on his jet pack, and blasted out of the Taliban base and back to America with a cry of: “TO INFINITY, AND BEYOND!!!!”

    THE END???