So this is where it all ends. Prostrate under the blinding lights of the Hexagon Of Extreme Destruction with a Kusari-gama pressed to my throat. It seems obvious to the wildy cheering crowds that I have just been bested by actress Cloris Leachman in the “Super Ninja Death Championship of the Whole World”, airing live on pay-per-view. Or have I?

Maybe some backstory is in order.

I love garage sales, ask anyone who knows me even a little. And I also love Billy Blanks. Not in a sex way or anything, I just really really respect him and everything he’s done for the children. Did you know that Billy Blanks does research on childhood diseases at Billy Blanks Medical ResearchLand, which is way the hell up there in Malibu? Now you do.

So I’m walking down the street and I come across a great-looking garage sale. Lots of tasty items on offer. Let’s see… I already have a pair of rusted leg braces at my country home, so my prying eyes wander over to the media section. And there it is: the TAE BO Inspirational Soundtrack CD! My voice goes up really high when I ask how much it is. When the lady in the stained nightgown said it was a dollar, I almost throw up from my good fortune. I run to the bus stop so I could get home to play it. And I mean RUN.

“Walk by Faith … Not by Sight.” Billy Blanks TAEBO continues to motivate and inspire millions worldwide everyday. From the hottest workout on the planet, the “TAEBO Inspirational” soundtrack is jam-packed with music from hot, “new” gospel artists like Eddie Howard, David Dawson and Chit Chat! The singles “Highest Praise”, “I Will Bless the Lord” and “You Can Praise Him”, featuring David Dawson, will launch you to a whole new inspirational level. That’s what the liner notes said. And man, were they right.

I must have dozed off with the CD on, since I woke up the next morning on the floor, covered in drool and Bugle crumbs. Through my sleep-crusted eyes I noticed the CD was on track 957. According to the back of the jewel case, there were only 11 songs of praise and inspiration. But, I was late for work and I didn’t really have time think about it. On my way to my job at InvoiceCo (the nation’s third-largest producer of Invoices and Invoicing supplies) I caught a glimpse of a little girl hanging out in front of the Launderette. She couldn’t have been more than 7, and she was cute, in an immigrant sort of way. I could tell she’d grow up to be hairy.

As I passed her, she muttered something in what sounded like… Japanese? Before I knew it, she’d pulled out 3 shiny 8-point metal stars from her Care Bears fanny pack. Before I even had a chance to wonder if new Care Bears merchandise was being produced, she threw them at me. What happened next boggled my mind: I plucked one of the stars out of mid-air, and in one fluid motion, whipped it back at her. It lodged right in between her eyes, and she fell back into the gumball machine. There was blood everywhere. I looked up to see the owner of the Launderette making a frantic cellphone call. Then, I blacked out.

I woke up, bound and gagged, in a large warehouse on the waterfront. It was there they told me everything. They explained in sickening detail how all those extra tracks on my Tae Bo CD were really subliminal messages that had imbued in me the skills of the shinobi. When I asked how I could have assimilated so much in one night, a bald woman with a snake tattoo struck me and lit a match on my face. I also learned that these devious bastards had fixed it so the CD would send them a satellite signal when my initiation into the deadly arts was complete. That “cute little girl” I killed? Internationally feared midget assassin Boris Kjylkmnzwzjk. Boris was my first test, and I had passed with flying entrails. It was almost too much to take in. Good God… was Billy Blanks in on this too? And had I been fired from InvoiceCo in absentia?

There was no time to think about the outside world. The following day I was busy battling for my life in the Hexagon Of Extreme Destruction. The first few rounds were easy; I used my Kyoketsu-shogei, Shobo and poison-tipped Tetsu-bishi like I was born in 13th century Japan. But when I disemboweled that old woman I admit I felt a small pang of guilt. She probably likes Billy Blanks as much as I do, I thought. Either that, or she’s really into hot new gospel artist Chit Chat. Well, WAS into them anyway.

Eventually I found myself in the finals. As Chubby Checker blared over the arena’s loudspeakers, I dispatched lovable TV personality and fitness guru Richard Simmons by tripping him up with my Manriki Gusari and slitting his throat. The skin just fell away, like so much crepe paper. As I held up his tattered short-shorts and screamed in victory, all I could think of was “Slaughtered to the Oldies.” This was getting fun, and that scared me more than anything.

As they dragged Richard’s limp corpse out of the ring, the crowd fell silent. Suddenly, the traditional Odaiko drums thundered to life, and Cloris Leachman entered the Hexagon Of Extreme Destruction. Ninja or no, she’s one very talented actress, and I consider myself a fan. I particularly enjoy her comedy work. But this isn’t an autograph fair, it’s the Super Ninja Death Championship of the Whole World, and Ms. Leachman plays for keeps. After a fierce 9-hour battle, it looks like Cloris is about to finish me off. But I wouldn’t collect on any bets just yet. I just realized I have a few more Shuriken tucked into the folds of my Shinobi Shozoko.