The endeavor began on bus slot twelve. On my way home from school I was attacked harshly by a band of misfits. They had always prodded me, bullied me by touching my hair. My hair is a Sandy Beach Paradise, and should never EVER be touched. They touched it. Too many times. Finally my death threats were not enough. It was time for me to take action.
I sprang out of my seat, much with the agility of a fearsome feline creature. As I leaped over many aisles of seats, I found the perpetrators. Three tiny boys, eighth grade. Cussin' me out and stuffs. I finally screamed at the top of my lungs like a lunatic, lunged at them. I took one by the neck and repeatedly bashed his head against the windshield. Another tried to free his friend, but was met by a powerful backhand by my awesome power. I forced the third into a head lock, quickly my blood lust growing stronger. When they ripped themselves away from me, cussing at me and calling me faggot, I screamed at them, "I'LL TWIST YOUR NIPPLES OFF LIKE BOTTLE CAPS!" I threw one of them under another seat. The leader of the three ninjas began to repeatedly kick me in the balls. However, this did not stop me. I was not even phased. My balls are numb to kickings, I live with an animalistic sister.
This did not phase them. I began a far more superior pursuit of words. Screaming, "I WILL RIP YOUR BALLS OFF AND USE THEM AS CHRISTMAS ORNAMENTS!" I proceeded into the pants of the leader, using my shank-like claws to carve out whatever chunks I could. Through screams and mock faggotry, I eventually was pushed away. My claws gruesomely gored, I shot forth again. The bus driver horrified, simply glanced from the road to the back and back and forth.
My inner animal kicked in. I began to deploy my feces, beginning the screaming of a banshee. As I inserted various strands of feces into their mouths, I was slammed in the face by an algebra book of one of the ninja's sisters. I quickly ripped her boobs off with my claws, throwing them onto her brother. Screaming again, I quickly broke his neck over one of the seats and broke the jaw of his sister with a high-kick. Nothing could stop a superior being such as I. I spoke the ancient language many call jargon, I inflicted them with all the curses found in The Book of The Dead. I lashed out, snarled. I lathered my saliva in a fashion so rabid that would make Cujo seem like a stuffed puppy toy. I summoned a horde of Nazis at my command, and destroyed the remnants of their ninja force. I terrorized their villages, within their pants that is. I am... the ultimate warrior.
And that is my response to the question, "do you lift?"