What prepubescent boy doesn't dream of someday being trained as a ninja? Come on. How cool would that be to run around in the dead of night blowing poisoned darts in the necks of the nefarious, lodging ninjas stars in their craniums, cutting enemies in half, and scaling walls with climbing spikes? And the disappearing smoke bombs. Sweet Judas Iscariot those puffs of smoke are some kind of bad ass.
Unfortunately, not all who wish to attain primo ninja status make it past the outfit stage. Once you grow your short hairs, your dreams of becoming a real life, katana-carrying assassin fade away, replaced by the vicarious living of said fantasy through the art of watching old martial arts films on DVD. Only the truly poo-bah-tic actually think their are freaking ninja.
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