Ninjas.

That's right.

Ninjas.

We've all heard of them, we all fear them, but none today have truly ever seen one.

Now, if you know anything about the history of Ninjitsu then you should know that ninjas were trained in the art of espionage. What do we call espionage in today's day and age? Well children, we call it vandalism.

Unfortunately, my many stories cannot accurately be told without first addressing the precursor that led up to Crawford house's reputation. So here we go-

It all started one Tuesday night about three weeks into our freshman semester. A good friend and mentor to our little group (we'll call him Dick) told us a story of running across campus as shirt ninjas and getting into all kinds of shenanigans. For those of you who are unaware as to the definition of a "shirt ninja", I will be glad to enlighten you. Pulled straight from Urban Dictionary, shirt ninja means thus-

"one hides his ninja identity with a shirt over the head. bad ass mother fuckers. " A perfect definition.

Now this sparked an idea into my head. Dick had told us about an RA across the street named Donnie, who had been in a relationship at the time and was being a total fuckhead. That being said, the plan was hatched. We had about 20 kids in our lobby at the time, all happy to be included on this epic adventure, so I gladly let them in on the plan. Dressed in all black, with the shirt wrapped appropriately around the head to mimic a ninja, we were simply to sneak across the street, knock on this kid's window, and scatter like a bunch of Mexicans caught by the border patrol. The plan itself sounds simple and stupid, but it's within the ridiculousness of the plan that the beauty lies. Imagine at 2 in the morning looking outside your window to see twenty legitimate fucking ninjas staring into your window then darting in every direction. Yeah.

However, the plan was soon developed into a slightly more complicated arrangement when one of my good friends "Jinx" informed the house he had smoke bombs. I didn't know Jinx too well at the time, and it alarmed me that the kid had the things lying around, but what is a ninja horde without smoke bombs? Soon enough, we gave into his idea... which, little did we know, was about to turn into a clusterfuck of epic proportions.

The plan was set in motion. Twenty ninjas, dressed in black with masks and hoods, darted across the street and crouched below the first-story window. The smoke bombs were lit, and we knocked on the window. The time between the lighting and the knocking seemed like a lifetime. It was dead silent, save for the annoying sounds of the fuses burning down to the smoke bombs in our hands. Suddenly the most ungodly gaddamn noise happened and two of the four smoke bombs we were holding exploded like M-1000's. Of course, we all shit ourselves and started running, dropping the flaring smokes and leaving Donnie to his fate. None of us were exactly sure of what happened besides that Jinx was a fucktard and ruined our plan. What was worse was that the smoke bombs had started a small fire, apparently neccessitating a whole legion of fucking firefighters.

I know what you're thinking too. We're retarded. Yes. We have no problem admitting that we like to fuck with people, and we do stupid shit. What was ridiculous was that none of us were under ANY kind of influence. The whole plan was ruined due to Jinx's dumbshit idea.

Regard this as the first chapter in the Chronicles of Crawford.