Sinister Ninja aka Sinja- a hilarious, handsome, well-endowed, romantic, witty, charming, talented, accomplished, professional, highly decorated, honorable, loyal, courageous, athletic, suitably when justifiably violent, mischievous, mature, immature, humble when necessary, curious, apathetic, paranoid, laid back narcissistic dipshit highest genius who has a surprisingly low opinion of himself despite his obvious awesomeness and occasional kickassery.
Haunted Conspiracy of Mexican Employment? Part One.
Quote of the day: "Behind every great fortune there is a crime."- Honore de Balzac
I don't remember why I was there, but I was at my local Wal-Mart to pick up a couple odds and ends. I came back out to my car to find that it had been broken into, although I didn't see anything missing. When you have a car like I had, the worst part about a break-in is not what could be stolen, but the damage it causes to actually get in. As I sat in my car taking a quick inventory, I looked up and saw another vehicle being broken into.
It was being broken into by about three or four Mexicans, just next to their waiting, idling getaway vehicle. It was a large yellow schoolbus- full of Mexicans. The others were leaning out of the door of the schoolbus, and out of the windows, apparently keeping watch. I started honking my horn and yelling, and they jumped back on the bus and began to pull away.
I started my car and gave chase. We pulled out onto the boulevard, and they were quite a few vehicles ahead of me. I was quickly weaving between cars, getting closer and closer, completely focused on the school bus. We made a few turns, and suddenly I had very little idea of where we were. We were leaving the city, the houses were spaced apart, and we pulled into the driveway of a large Colonial house.
The driveway led around to the back of the house, and as i pulled around, I saw at least three times as many Mexican men working in and around some sort of mine/gravel pit. I was... confused, to say the least. There didn't seem to be anyone in charge, so I parked my (freshly broken into by these very guys) car and went up to the house.
Answering the door was a large white man, balding, in denim overalls, and behind him, a (still large but slightly less so) man that looked to be nearly the same person. They didn't say anything at first, and I couldn't help but sneak a glance inside the house. There was a large wooden staircase, old pictures and such, and it seemed almost as if the doorway led to another era. There was something odd when I glanced upwards, though. An old woman, white-haired and properly dressed, peeked from the doorway, then ducked back in. I thought I'd also seen her reflection in a large, brass-trimmed mirror at the top of the stairs, but that seemed to have been impossible, given the angle...
"Okay okay okay. Here's the thing.. Sinja's alarm clock is the entire Master of Puppets album. He doesn't wake up until the last note is played. And after that, Sinja eats a bowl of razorblades and Wild Turkey. Washed down with an ice cold glass of lava. Sinja defies physical properties."- TheSarge
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Edited by Deirdre.
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