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.
P.S. I just did that thing where you press backspace, and for some reason your entire entry disappears, and now I am rewriting this. I am insane with anger. I will get the last laugh, however... read through and find out.
... "What?" The larger of the two men interrupted my brief inspection. He was not rude or friendly, but he didn't seem to be a man with patience to spare. I informed him that his employees had broken into my car, and I had chased them here. He replied in what could be the last response I could have expected. "That's what they do."
"Wh... why?" I was confused by his response. So confused, in fact, that I cannot remember in the slightest what his reply was. I remember only that it was obviously a source of tension between him and who I assumed was his brother. Apparently they invited me in, because suddenly we were at the top of the stairs, and as they were slowly devolving our conversation into a debate between each other, I stared at a painting. They spoke of a family business in chaos, a dispute in the dying wishes of their mother, and the employees that were sent out to break into vehicles. The original act that brought me here, my car being broken into, no longer seemed important as I thought of the woman I had just seen duck into another room, and I stared at a painting.
A brass-framed painting of an old woman, white-haired and properly dressed. "That's mother," the smaller proclaimed. It made me a little uncomfortable that I could have sworn that this was a mirror about two minutes ago, but what made it worse was the expression on the woman's face. She had this piercing, satisfied glare- as if that at the time of the painting, she had known the exact situation that her painting would most make someone uneasy, and she fashioned her expression accordingly. It also made me uncomfortable to notice for the first time an ornate brass chandelier that matched the painting, hanging inches over the larger brother's head, and other paintings on the walls I had not noticed.
It was a little more than discomfort that I felt when I glanced at my startled reflection in a brass-trimmed mirror at the top of the stairs, and I made the mistake of looking to the denim-clad brothers for explanation.
"Yeah," said the smaller brother, "and there's that."
"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
Header image by Deanna.
Layout by Christine.
Edited by Deirdre.
Inspired by me. Ha.
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