Sleeping on my enemies. The opps. The opposition. Tucking them in. Saying goodnight to my opps. Writing their eulogies. Picking out a suit and tie to attend the funerals of my oppositions. My opponents. Making sure never to be caught lacking. Not around the opposition, at least. Making a list and checking it twice. In a similar fashion to Santa Claus, but different because the list is of my opps who I’m going to eliminate. The list is empty because I’ve successfully eliminated them all. I’m sleeping on them since they slept on me. Sleeping on them in the sense that I am warm in my bed, cozy whilst they are in the ground, dead. I’m giggling at the opps. Laughing in their faces. They know the eradication is near. I’ve got the opposition practicing their mantras. Reciting prayers to their children. The opps know better than to slide through my neighborhood. They will not be seen near this area. The opposition regrets their choices. Whatever led to them being my opponents is their greatest mistake. The opps don’t dare test my patience. I have enough power in my fist to keep the hoover dam in business. The kinetic energy running through my bloodstream whilst my fist connects to the foreheads of the opposition is of levels unmatched by even the world’s most powerful machinery. I will slice through the jaws of my opponents in a disorderly fashion. Similar to that of a table saw. I have no regrets. The opps fear me. I am the conductor of the hood. I orchestrate the deaths of my opponents greater than a classical musician. I carry the force of nature within my grasp. I control the winds and seas. The opposition will never see me coming.