Cat, Zhen, and I laughed our collective @$$ off as our sensei, the Legendary Sannin of Konoha, tried to put out his captain's quarters. After about three minutes of the smell of roasted rump, he succeeded. As he recovered, I pulled my scimitar, my long-bladed-hand-and-a-half weapon, from its sheath. Cradling the flat edge of the blade in my hand, I rushed the sensei, yelling, "Jingle Balls, sensei!!! Merry Christmas!! PERVY DEFENSE NO JUTSU!! SABER NUT SHOT!" I scored a goal with my hilt--right in King Arthur's round tables.
"NUT SHOT!!!" I did a little victory dance with my sword in hand. "CHAA!!" I watched as the sannin crumpled a little bit and scowled for a moment. Then, his eyes widened.
"DDDDAAAAAAAAMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMIIIIITTTTTT!!!!!!!!!!!"
"Okay," I turned to Cat and Zhen. "I think that it's time for Plan R!"
"Plan R?" They asked.
"Plan RUN LIKE HELL!!!"
They executed the plan perfectly. Within two minutes, Jiraiya-sensei was hot on our heels. And angry.