Opening scene from Thraxton (1992)

  Ted Thraxton strode through the entrance of the Shop Mart like a colossal bullet laced with liquid sex. The rent-a-cop at the entrance gave Ted a knowing smirk before snaking his right hand into his pants pocket to adjust the shameful erection that was already forming.

  The spurs fastened to the heels of Ted's combat boots jangled their reliable ching... ching... ching... as he made his stoic way to the frozen foods section. The frigid compartments reminded him of the morgue he had visited earlier in the evening, when he had gazed emotionally - yet handsomely - at the corpse of his now ex-partner for a few moments before the coroner had slammed the drawer closed like the final page of yet another chapter in Ted's sordid autobiography. Rage swam back into Ted's body, his fists clenched harder than the most virginal orifices ever engineered by God.

  This rage was all too familiar, and Ted had ways of dealing with it. He remembered the teachings of his master, Chief Stylez, a New York-born rapper who had himself studied gar tonk, a rare and possibly fabricated martial art created by the Navajo during World War II. Under Chief Stylez's tutelage, Ted had learned how to defend himself, both physically... and emotionally. He raised his inner spiritshield now, as he was taught then.

  "Don't do anything stupid, lady!"

  Ted snapped out of his spiritshield trance and sneaked his way towards the front of the store. Peering between two reasonably-priced Pringles cans, Ted had a good view of the 3 men who would soon die in agony by his hand.

  "Just open the register, take the money out, and deposit it in this here bag, you dumb bitch! Or me and my friends here are going to be upset! And when we get upset, do you know what we like to do?"

  Before the checkout girl could answer, Ted hopped out from behind the Pringles display.

  "Let me guess," Ted drawled, Pringles crumbs falling from his lips like spent shells. "Does it involve getting brutally murdered by a man that curses too much?"

  The lowlife sack of piss with the gun on the checkout girl cocked his head. "What're you crazy, man? What're you talkin' about?!"

  Ted raked the sleeve of his bomber jacket across his face, eliminating any remaining Pringles crumbs that had been ensnared in his chin stubble. He looked the dirtbag straight in the eye.

  "Well let's motherfucking find out, you shits."

  Two seconds of complete silence. The rent-a-cop, useless as ever, stood at the entrance, paralyzed with fear. He bit his lower lip, anticipating the bloodshed that was sure to follow.

KABOOOM!!!

  The grenade that Ted had reluctantly placed inside the Pringles display earlier had exploded, right on cue. With the goons distracted, he backflipped away to safety.

  The head robber was furious.
  "Did that really just happen? What the fuck? Okay, you guys go after him! NOW!"

  The 2 other robbers spread out around the store, slowly scanning the aisles in search of the man who had just made them look shitty. The guy with the uzi or whatever was in aisle 4 when Ted jumped out from behind the BBQ Pringles with the 10-inch switchblade that he always carries around because he uses it so often in situations like this one.
  "Hope you like dying a whole bunch!" Ted yelled in his stupid face.
  The blade entered at the sternum and as Ted yanked downward, opening the man's stomach up like a gastrointestinal yard sale, the man let out a wretched, gargling scream. The rent-a-cop's moans were audible even from across the store.

  This attracted the other thug, who Ted promptly punched in the face so hard that blood spurted out of his ears. As he collapsed to his knees like a bag of human dogshit, Ted leapt into the air. He spun at least 3 times before landing a gar tonk uppercut kick, the sweet spot of his boot connecting with the man's scrotum in such a way that the balls were ripped from it intact and launched upwards. And only once the balls had reached the man's eye level did the balls explode, blinding the already deaf asshole with his own presumably caustic ball juice. In other words: exactly what you'd expect from a perfectly executed gar tonk uppercut kick. Ted finished the job by punching straight down on the nape of his neck, collapsing the man's spine as if it were no more than a stack of Pringles.

  And so it came down to the last robber. The leader guy. He was now using the checkout girl as a human shield.
  "Okay, me and the girl here are leaving! You do anything - you try to stop me? I blow her fucking brains out, man! I ain't even fucking kidding, man!" He began backing towards the door.

  But it turns out the checkout girl was actually Detective Rick Piston, Ted's new partner who had been undercover as a checkout girl for the last 3 years. Rick snapped the robber's wrist and the gun tumbled to the floor. 

  "You bitch!"

  Rick could only smile. "I'm just getting started." 

  He then palmed the scumbag's face with his bear-like hands and tossed him aside like a bag of pennies you've spilled soda on. The man's shrieking body fell into a haphazardly stacked Pringles can pyramid display, sending shards of Pringles in every direction. Rick broke into a run and then jumped onto the man's stomach, causing an instant bowel movement as well as renal failure. Rick then started jogging in place, stomping repeatedly on the man's torso and churning his guts into a vile, greyish paste similar to the kind they use to make Pringles.

  Ted watched this all go down from across the room, smoking one of his cigar-sized cigarettes. "Not bad, rookie!" he howled.

  Rick turned and gave Ted a meaty thumbs up. "Thanks, Ted! You're an inspiration for me and all of mankind in general!"

  The rent-a-cop came.