I used to train kids many years ago in the ancient art of ninja. I was young, sadistic, anti-Christic, and demented. There are a few horrible things I must admit to before I continue.
1. I hit a kid in the head with a bat.
2. I forced my friend Vern (Another alias) to dive off of a top bunk bed head first to the wood floor with his hands tied behind his back. To teach a ninja's high threshold of pain.
3. I made my students walk across the cross beam of the swing set and they could move on with the training, when and only when they made it to the other side without falling. No one ever did.
4. I nearly killed an old lady with a home made stink bomb and then taught her granddaughter how to say horrible words.
5. I had a huge crush on Verns mom.
6. I made small children punch each other in the face.
Ok, that is now a weight lifted. I of course was a little boy myself only a little older than my students. And I had no karate experience except for the Bruce Lee movies I watched all the time. But believe it or not, I was successful for a kid. I charged $5 per person for a whole year of training. In the end, all the kids died and I still train. No neither of those things are correct. But I do realize why my mother thought I was such a monster. Because I was. In high school and just after, she on several occasions called me Satan. Now to put that into perspective, she is Pentecostal, which focuses much of what happens in the world to spiritual warfare. She really was only trying to get Satan to leave, but he didn't. Not yet at least. I now can look back and see that I am invincible. I should definitely be dead or in jail with all of the shenanigans I routinely pulled. I pulled a knife on a neighborhood kid for no reason other than to scare him. I invented backyard child fighting rings which are running ramped now. I smoked weed in the 4th grade. WTC. (What The Crap) (Since I try not to curse unless I hit my head or stub my toe) How am I still alive? I had a heart attack at 19, was saved from suicide, and saved a Chinaman from drowning. God wants me alive I think.
God also laughs at me often. Not with me, but at me. I am an idiot. Not the kind that you find endearing, but the kind, you walk away from and say, "What an idiot" under your breath.