"Well, whatever," you
say with a shrug and head on over to drop off your luggage. If you have
to go on a trip with Retarded Mickey and have what will quite possibly
be the worst time of your life, even worse than the time you were
trapped in a flaming elevator (and I do mean "flaming"!) with Richard
Simmons and he was singing show tunes in a panic and your body
completely burned to a crisp and you had to have your brain transplanted
into the body of a cold, inhuman cyborg, you're going to make the best
of it.
You're standing there watching all the luggage pass by and with shock
you notice a man crouched down in a ninja costume riding the conveyor
belt behind one of the suitcases. Your mouth agape, you point in
surprise and make an exasperated "Guh!" noise. Everyone around you is
going about their business normally.
"Oh, come ON! Doesn't
anybody see that?" you shout incredulously, gesturing to the ninja,
whose head is darting from side to side as if he fears his cover may
have been blown. "It's a ninja! Right there on the conveyor belt!" You
receive a great many dumb stares from the crowd. "Look! There he is,
right there! He's taller than the suitcase! He's completely
obvious! LOOK, DAMN YOU! A FUCKING NINJA!"
The crowd begins to back away fearfully as if you're some kind of
escaped lunatic. You notice a security guard speaking into a
walkie-talkie and then you see several guards running up the escalator
and moving into a flanking position around you. "I'm not crazy, there's
a ninja right there!" you point emphatically as you're roughly
restrained by no less than half a dozen guards. As they start to haul
you away, the ninja leaps out from the luggage and with a cry of "Jumanji!"
he stabs you in the gut with his katana and darts off to hide behind a
potted bush. No one seems to notice, and you moan in pain as security
drags you off to the detention cell, a line of fresh blood trailing the
floor behind you.
