Resolving Things Like Gentlemen

I’m not sure how long I’ve been locked in this dungeon, but I’ll never eat salad with the big fork again.

I only got about four bites into it before the ruckus broke out, and I’m starting to drool as I eye the fresh dead rat plopped on the floor between me and the stranger.

“Perhaps we should resolve this like gentlemen,” he said. “No need to resort to pugilism.”

It was obvious the man was truthful about reaching a civil agreement, because he was clearly a gentleman, as illustrated by the fact that he had a fine mustache not only above his upper lip, but one on his chin as well, covering his cheeks and jaw. Also, anyone who uses the word “pugilism” doesn’t actually practice it.

“Hmmm,” I thought. “How about a gentlemen’s battle of talents? I’ll put on my best show, and you yours. I trust we can judge each other objectively?”

He agreed, and we spent the next several hours or days perfecting our acts in opposite corners of the cave, until finally we decided it was time to duel.

We drew straws, dictating he would go first.

I was mesmerized.