You never hear about the Ninjas.

That’s the principle difference between Zombies and Ninjas. We’ve become so jaded to news of Zombie attacks, it’s gotten so that we don’t even hear it when Dan Rather says, “The nation mourns as another five hundred US citizens are torn to shreds and eaten by motherfucking Zombies.” Those words have been repeated so often, I can’t even remember a time they weren’t. Ninjas, though, you never hear about. Ever.

Think about it.

Now, I know you can’t see them, but believe me when I tell you there are FIVE flying Ninjas in this image. You’ll just have to trust me.

When was the last time you heard a newscaster say the words “Seventy-four eviscerated in bloody Ninja holocaust attack”? Can’t quite seem to remember, can you? Can you? Of course you can’t, those words have never been said. Ever. No one will ever dare to speak the names of the victims of the Ninja, for fear of graphically displeasing full-body explosive disembowelment. So secretive are these terrifying specters of death that most of you out there have probably never even heard of them. I can almost hear the collective head-scratchings of the tens of people who read this site, wondering aloud, “BUT XV! WHAT ARE THESE HORRIFYING APPARITIONS OF WHICH YOU SPEAK?” Not to worry. As usual, I’ve got your back. But you owe me big time, bucko.

Ninjas are demonic entities of death and stealth from a magical, faraway island called Japan. ‘Japan’ might sound like a nonsensical word to American ears, but I can assure you that it is indeed a real place. A futuristic land of post-apocalyptic decay, fantasy and nonstop tentacle-rape, Japan is among the most dangerous places on this planet. Subject to constant attacks by demons, zombies, robots and giant, radioactive monsters, it’s no wonder why Ninjas are so hardcore.

“BUT XV! WHAT IS IT ABOUT THE NINJAS THAT MAKES THEM SO HARDCORE?”

Listen close. The following will save your putrid, unwashed skin. Ninjas are the unparalleled masters of all forms of the martial arts. They can stick to walls, and possess strange, shadowy magic that can render their black, shadowy forms invisible. Their entire bodies are weapons so shitfire lethal, you can die just by looking at a Ninja, a situation made worse by the fact that Ninjas can transform anything in their hands into a deadly implement. I met a man who lost both his arms to a Ninja wielding nothing more than a sharpened Marshmallow Peep. Undisputed masters of the ancient arts of Stealth, a dozen Ninjas could jump up and down on the keys of a pipe organ and not make a sound.

We’ve hidden seven thousand Ninjas in this photograph. Can you find them all? HINT: They’re posing for the camera!

Ninjas, like Zombies, are EVERYWHERE. They are hiding under every rock, behind every corner, sticking to the ceiling right above your head as you read these very words. DON’T LOOK UP. Don’t you dare act like anything is wrong, my boy. As you read this, right this very second, there are no less than seven Ninjas hiding amongst the discarded pizza boxes, waiting for the right instant to strike and make you one with nothingness. Any moment now, you’ll feel a sharp wind passing over you, followed by a strange, warm wet sensation traveling down over your belly. You look down and HOLY FUCK YOUR LAP IS FILLED WITH GUTS. You try to get to your feet, to run, hide, but SWEET FUCK OF CHRIST YOUR LEGS HAVE BEEN SEVERED. You open your mouth to scream but OH, THE HUMANITY, YOUR MOUTH IS FILLED WITH NINJA THROWING STARS AND BESIDES, YOUR HEAD’S BEEN CUT OFF. Your body explodes into raging rivers of blood before completely falling apart, bits of you tumbling down to the ground like an avalanche of dead flesh. All that’s left of you is a nasty, wretched stain that will never wash out, the only thing left to remind to world that once upon a time, you existed, and you must’ve done SOMETHING to piss those Ninjas off.

Because when the Ninjas come a-calling, your life is fucking over. Easy as that.

“BUT XV! THE TITLE OF THIS ARTICLE IS-”

I know what the title is, fuckwit. I SAID I got your back, didn’t I? DIDN’T I? Shut the fuck up and listen close. Ninjas are masters of the dark martial arts. They are unspeakably deadly with any object, and they can hurl fireballs made of pure, explosive soulforce stolen from innocent Christian babies. They have magical powers of stealth, obfuscation and explosion, but like all beasts of extraordinary evil, they have weaknesses. I will tell you what they are. I will tell you how to exploit them. With my help, you will survive to see your next birthday.

Ninjas don't fuck around

I know. I’m something like a God. Save your worship and just give me your women. And your weed. And some beer. And maybe a few tacos. Not those fucking Taco Hell shitbirds, either, I want the good shit. When I demand sacrifice, I better see some fucking Del Taco on that altar, or there will be seventeen shades of Almighty Hell to pay. You get me? I want GOOD tacos. I want a $1.49 taco that’s actually WORTH a buck-forty-nine, dig? Golden fucking tacos that will make me see God and orgasm like a busload of sluts has just been funneled down my pants. I’m putting my neck out for you ungrateful fuckers. I mean it. This is the SECOND time I’m saving your worthless lives, here, and the first time, I didn’t even see any fucking e-mail. Not a single one from any of you. Scum-sucking shit-faced cum-guzzling toadfuckers. THIS IS YOUR FUCKING LIFE I’M GIVING YOU BACK. You WILL give me those golden tacos, or so help me…

“UH, XV, ABOUT THAT WEAKNESS…”

Right, right. The weakness. Just wanted to make sure we were all clear about what I want in return for this.

Okay. The sole weakness of the Ninja.

Amerikarate.

This man is learning the true path. Emulate him, and you may get away with all your appendages

I know. I know. I know it sounds ridiculous. I know that the hyper-commercialized American version of the Asian Martial Arts is not much more than a source of infinite levity and disdain for anyone who’s ever walked the path of Shaolin. I know. I know that Tiger Schullman’s Karate is an enormous joke played directly on the checkbooks of the idiots who think it’ll keep them from being mugged. I know. I know that five and five make ten, but I also like to pretend that sometimes it makes three. And I know how devastatingly attractive you find me. I know.

But still, something about Amerikarate fucks with the Ninjas’ heads. It seems to blast away some part of their mind and forces them to act in a manner that is supremely bizarre and utterly uncharacteristic for these ancient gods of blood and death and leaves them reeling, ripe for conquest and slaughter. Picture this: You walk into a room, and you realize immediately that it is filled with Ninjas (mainly because you’ve read this article and understand that Ninjas are EVERYWHERE). You lift your arms in a hilariously stiff and wholly unnatural position, and let out a ridiculous KI-AHHH HAI scream. You have begun to tear away the defenses of the Ninja.

The results will be immediate. Suddenly, each and every Ninja within a thousand feet of you will suddenly come into view. They will ignore their endless weapons of death and gore, forget about their impossible speed and incredible stealth, override thousands of years of training at the Ninja Factory where the deadly bastards are produced, and begin to act like complete idiots.

Death comes like a silent wind of full-body explosive exsanguination. And when he’s done, he’ll fuck your wife and eat your dog.

Immediately, the Ninjas will circle you, and wave their arms in a strangely un-Ninjalike fashion. One-by-one, they will in to attack you – rather than all-at-once in a blindingly fast Ninja Rush – but all their skill will be for naught. Ninjas capable of slicing steel with their bare hands will suddenly fall prey to a clumsy backfist reverse-punch. They will trip over their own feet, accidentally hit each other with their own throwing stars and almost LET themselves be bested by your heinously inferior style, so long as you keep up the almighty KIA-AHHHH HAI shriek of Amerikarate.

That’s the secret, right there. The ear-piercing Yodel Of Death you are taught to emit like a foghorn in crappy Amerikarate schools with each and every movement is their fucking kryptonite. It fucks their brains raw and leaves them as helpless as a baby, vulnerable to your doughy fists of doom. So scream. Scream with every step and every movement. Practice your scream and make it perfect, and not only will you survive all that the Ninjas have to throw at you, but you’ll soon find yourself standing atop a massive pile of dead Ninjas, with supermodels and porno stars flinging themselves haphazardly at your pants in clothes-ripping ecstasy. All it takes is a ridiculous yowl, and you WILL become the Ninja-Slaying Mack Daddy of Legend.

Now. Seeing as how Ninjas are everywhere and can strike at any time, you’re going to want to keep a full bag of Ricola in your pocket, my son, because from this moment onwards, you’re going to need to accompany each step, every move, no matter how small or insignificant, with a loud bellow of Amerikarate, or you will fucking die.

Understand?

“I UNDERSTAND, XV.”

You fucking well better, me fair laddie buck boyo-me-son, because I’m not going to repeat myself. From this day forth, you WILL make like a Power Ranger and supply your own sound effects, or you are a fucking statistic, just another stupid bastard who was filleted by Ninjas and served up for the Zombies and it will be your own goddamned fault, hear me? Don’t you fucking come running to me, crying “XV! XV! I didn’t listen to your incredible wisdom and now I am being torn asunder, flensed and digested! Oh please, sir, help me, I have brought you your tacos!” ‘cause I don’t want to fucking hear it.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to make sure that there aren’t any Ninjas in my porn file. KIIIII-AAAAAAHHHHHHHH-HAI.