Wednesday, November 7, 2007

Security Detail

If, and when, I'm important enough to have my own security detail, I don't see the point in having a bunch of meat heads in dark suits with stupid walkie talkies. Ninjas, brother, Ninjas. I'm not paying all that money so that you can sit around wondering which monkey is security and which monkey is just wearing a suit and has an affinity for steroids. No! I want people to fear my security detail. I want F'ing Ninjas.

Imagine, you're out on the town and you get to a club, you're in line, and a limo pulls up. It's someone important, they have security with them. I get out of the limo, you run up for an autograph and are SWARMED by ten or fifteen sword-brandishing ninjas. Now that's frightening. Forget guns and shit, I want steel, stealth, and super-ninjistics.

There are other great uses for ninja security details. Mainly, the somewhat egregious use of smoke bombs. If you say something really awkward and need an out, SNAP, ninjas descend from the heavens, hurling magic smoke bombs that swiftly engulf you in a glorious cloud of invisibility. Poof, you're gone. Patrons are flabbergasted as to how you were able to disappear into a cloud of smoke, leaving behind only mystery and the bar tab floating in the air. The bar tab floats down and lands on the table, promptly impaled by a throwing star with a C-Note stuck in it. Now that is bad-friggin-ass.


Maggie said...

you have problems

Ted said...

You're my problem. Know your role.