Imagine running into N on the street out of nowhere. He's out and about with one of his retarded fangirls, making some inane comment about the abuse of captured pokemon in an impotent attempt to appear sophisticated. You just walk up to him, tap him on the shoulder, and then, never breaking eye contact, tell him he is a fucking joke of a character.

He'd just stand there for a few seconds, flabbergasted and off-balance, and then try to formulate a response. He fails. As he stutters some incomprehensible pseudo-intellectualism and "Acthually" in order to save face at the sudden attack, it soon becomes utterly clear he is completely incapable of confrontation; He's staring down at the pavement, wringing his wrists and whispering. His responses to criticism is normally beyond the safety of a computer desk. Now he's naked and defenseless.

Whenever he tries to speak, you simply laugh loudly in a mocking tone, egging him on and never giving him any room. You ask how a man who claims to be formally educated could be such a intellectual dead end or how some 14 year old's oc on DeviantArt has better development than he ever will.

After a while, you've finally prodded him enough. He makes a shrieking feminine shout and strikes you with the most ineffective punch imaginable; His balled-up fist twists midswing and he ends up striking you with his wrist. As it connects to your mighty 5'1 ft body (Easily towering over his feeble frame) the bones in his hand shatter in sickening crack. He falls to the ground, weeping, defeated both verbally and physically. You decide to bring it all home, so you take out the protective paper from your newly purchased Pignite poark and wipe it on his face. A pathetic mockery of a "man", his fangirl turns to you, biting her lips, unable to control herself at the sight of a real man. She strips down to her underwear right there and then, and pleads at your knees to be yours.