It's nigh impossible to kick more ass than I do

Think you're badass? I'll give you a rundown of my daily routine. I guarantee that by the time you finish reading this article you will be bleeding out of your retinas and pissing out of your sphincter from the sheer awesomeness that is me. I'm like God, except better.

7:07:06 AM- Wake up without hesitation or delay. I am the king of all I purvey, and I purvey damn well everything in the universe. In other words, everyone else sucks.

8:00 AM- After nearly an hour of combing my chesthairs I prepare myself a hearty breakfast: A nice big bowl of broken glass, thumbtacks, and baby tears. The only thing that really stings is the tears, anything from a baby is vile including the mere presence of one. One time I saw a woman carrying her baby down the street so I landed my rocketbike on top of her, crushing her trachea in the process, and stole her baby. My hands were burning the entire time from the demon essence residing within the infant, so naturally I threw the damnable thing down the nearest well and laughed heartily upon hearing the wet crack of a baby's skull shattering on impact with stone. It was epic. I can't lie to you, I really did cream my pants at that moment.

12:00 AM- I just spent the last five hours training my crazy-ass ninja skills, preparing myself for an attack at anytime. I'm a vigilant man, as well as a kickass asskicker, and so I make sure I'm versatile in the art of battle, particularly that involving weaponry. Swords? Hell yeah. Guns? I'm down. Sledgehammer? One of my favourites. The best, most favourite weapon I've ever trained with, have ever or will ever use, however, is a contest won hands-down by the rusty shovel I keep in my garage. It's blunt enough to be classified as a 'blunt object,' but sharp enough that I can force it at least four inches into a human head, and can be used for any occasion, really. Christmas, birthdays, or hell, if I'm just pissed because Spiderman 3 sucked balls, all I have to do is grab the trusty wooden handle and give 'er a swing into the nearest paraplegic's temple.

1:00 PM- After staving off yet another zombie invasion numbering in the low thousands, and doing so single-handedly, thank you, there's nothing so satisfying as going for a nice quiet walk at the local park, contemplating life and reflecting upon the life lessons I've learned over the years. There's nothing in the world quite like bonding with nature, becoming one with your surroundings. I am at peace, and feel like loving every single person on the planet. I feel as though I could stay this way forever.

1:03 PM- After pulling the wooden stake from the heart of the jogger who had the nerve to pass me on the park path, I regard it as necessity to stop and take the time to arrange her body in funny, possibly character-compromising positions. Y'know, just to give the gang down at the crime lab something to chuckle about upon arriving at the scene, you know those guys don't get many laughs in their line of work. One dead hand down her pants and the other hand can go... Actually, both go down her pants. God, the creativity just flows from me like urine. No wait, that is urine. Trust me, it'll make the CSI guys laugh even harder.

2:37 PM- I go around town kicking people in the throat. It's hilarious, trust me.

4:00 PM- I spend over an hour at the playground beating children with my customized hockey stick. The customizations include a duct-taped handle for a kickass grip, and a hacksaw blade duct-taped to the end. Duct tape rules, children do not. Their blood however does rule.

6:00 PM- A healthy dinner of horse hooves and bull urine puts me in the mood for some gladiator battling, by which I'm implying that I, a ninja-viking, fight a stupidhead gladiator and naturally kick all kinds of shit. He's armed with his pointy-ass sword, sturdy shield, and a cool spiky helmet that would rock socks in a woman-headbutting contest. I've got my viking-ninja outfit on, the one that makes you orgasm upon seeing it. In less than three seconds I've got him in a headlock and crying like a baby wusshole, and he starts begging for mercy. I'm not without a heart, so I step back and shoot him in the stomach with my laser rifle. The way I see it, there's no greater mercy than lasers because they sterilize AND cauterize the victim's wound, all while causing him massive amounts of pain. I'm way too damn nice, and yet critically awesome at the same time.

8:00 PM- The rest of my evening is dedicated to training dragons to do my bidding. That is, burning down cities and eating people and just generally doing cool stuff. I figure my legion of dragons is numbering in the hundreds now, and they're not those shithead ones from Harry Potter. Dragons don't come in different colours or breeds. Dragons just come in one variety: Dragons. And they're all black, and they've all got huge spikes on their backs, and they all breathe fire, and wankloads of it to boot.

10:00 PM- I go to bed. What, let me guess, you're thinking 'Hahaha whut looser goes 2 bed at 10?' Tell you what cowboy, until I see you packing as much ass kicking as I do into a single day instead of your usual packing of browneyes, I'll continue to go to bed as early as I feel the need to without a single shred of regret for missing out on the lameass techno raves that you asshats who read this probably go to. You guys suck.

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