FourNineFoxtrot, 1st Degree Mall Ninja, Casino Subdivision (retired), reporting in.
As a former Casino Ninja, whereupon my job was to keep the peace at risk of life, limb, and ill-fitting cotton-poly blend uniform tunic, I heap disdain upon the heapings of disdain that have been heaped... upon... something.
I'll have you all know that my mini-flashlight was a beacon for Justice! in the benighted halls of Casino-dom. Verily, did miscreants hide their giggling faces whenever my mighty mini-flashlight shone its shining AA-battery-powered beam of Justice! in the dark corners of the land. And in trash cans. I had to check the trash cans.
In my long years of service... er... year... of service... I waged many fierce battles with the evil-doers that haunted my Casino. And also, a drunk threatened to beat me up, and I wasn't scared very much at all! In fact, I told him off, and said, "I'm sorry, sir, but you can't bring your beer in with you. We don't allow alcohol here...". Sure showed him. Actually... I just showed him inside. But I made him dump the beer first. Well... actually, he just drank the rest of the beer... but I stood up to him. And I only called him "sir" twice, and only apologized once, and I didn't mean it.
Of course, of all the many and varied tools available to my elite Casino Response Availability Patrol (or C.R.A.P), my radio saw by far the most use. I can't even count the times I've had to call in backup once C.R.A.P. hit the floor. The Casino floor, I mean. Where the gaming and stuff happens. Or so I'm told... I was too busy practicing with C.R.A.P. to really notice what went on there. Anyway, there were many hard-fought callings of backup, and untold sagas of frenzied radio calls... and not just "Boss, the drunk guy's hassling me again...". Not just that. There was also the kid who kept trying to get in with a fake ID. Well, my comrades-in-unarms and I had to show that delinquent what C.R.A.P. stands for.
So continue to heap your heapings of disdain, and I will continue to disdain your heaping of disdain in heaps on... my... whatever. I was a Mall Ninja Once, And Young. I've served C.R.A.P. duty. I've seen the elephant. It was at a circus. It was big and mean and scary, but I wasn't very afraid. I've faced down drunks with politely worded concessions. I've withstood the mumbled threats of menacing teenagers half my size. I've made frantic radio calls for backup, and answered those calls, during my C.R.A.P. service. I will not be mocked. Much. Anymore. Whatever. La-la-la-la-la, I can't hear you mocking me, my fingers are in my ears. It's a super-secret Ninja technique. I could teach you, but I'd have to kill you... or take my fingers out of my ears.
I bid you adeau... adeaiu...adeiu... er... farewell.
NINJA VANISH!!1!
***throws smoke bomb on the ground to facilitate vanishing***
***smoke bomb hisses and goes out***
***makes dignified exit, ignoring failure of ninja vanish facilitation device***
FourNineFoxtrot, 1st Degree Mall/Casino Ninja, C.R.A.P Operator, (retired), signing off.