ninjas without coffee vs the right hand of justice

The dark clad man lithely scooped a carton of four coffees from the drive through window before the driver could scream ‘hey!’ or the window attendant could shout out a curse word. He was gone, slipping between cars and around street vendors into the shadows in a narrow alley.

“Hey, thanks Wong! This coffee is great!”
“You should have seen their faces!”

Laughter rang out, giving away their location to a passing nun.
“Excuse me gentlemen, but stealing is a sin.”

“Oh, is that right Sister? Well, dressing like that should be,” the four ninjas snickered.
“Let me show you the right hand of justice!” The nun pushed her sleeves up and took a fighting stance.

The ninjas all jumped, two grabbing fire escapes, one making a flying kick at the nun, and the other taking their coffees to a safer spot. The Nun caught the foot of the ninja and twisted it around so he was crying on the asphalt.

“Stop! Hey lady, we didn’t mean it! Ow, let us go.”
“What do you have to say for yourselves?”
“I can see right up your habit!”

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