Coathanger fights
I have never recieved the honor of being challenged to a duel in the ancient art of Coathanger Battle. But, on this night, I was priviliged enough to be witness to one. Let me tell you, it was an amazing thing to observe: mini hooks flying this way and that as though they were tiny plastic hooks of shrapnel. I (and everyone else involved) am lucky to have escaped with all of my limbs intact and unscathed...
It was a night like any other, but the spirit of valor was in the air. Two ancient warriors staying at the same inn for the night had heard tales of the other's great deeds. Surely neither of them could pass an opportunity to put their skills to the test. They caught each others' gaze and gave an abrupt nod to signal that it "was on", as they say.
They stood and moved closer; both drew their weapons. In the tradition of the sport they both raised their arms majestically above their heads, much in the manner a peacock raises his feathers. They cried "En Guarde!" in unison to signal that the contest had begun.
Both of the warriors were skilled in the ways and neither was going to give up. The crushing blow of their coathangers could be heard clear across the village, as well as their sounds of exertion, yet neither of the warriors was quick to tire.
As the battle raged on into the wee hours of the morning, the plastic shards began to come loose from their mighty "swords" and they were flying up in a cloud akin to that of the plume of sawdust that a woodchipper emits. In spite of the shrapnel-ly danger, their eyes glared on, unafraid and unflinching, locked on the same goal: to be champion.
When the dust finally cleared, both of the warriors' weapons were reduced to nothing but rubble. They circled each other, panting, too tired to even raise their arms once more.
"You are a worthy adversary" said the Dark-Haired Warrior
"As are you good sir. Mayhap, we shall meet again one day" replied the Tan-Skinned Warrior.
I never knew if they met again, be it in this life or the next, but that night neither of the warriors triumped and yet, somehow, they both did.
Tonight was a good night. I like being included.
It was a night like any other, but the spirit of valor was in the air. Two ancient warriors staying at the same inn for the night had heard tales of the other's great deeds. Surely neither of them could pass an opportunity to put their skills to the test. They caught each others' gaze and gave an abrupt nod to signal that it "was on", as they say.
They stood and moved closer; both drew their weapons. In the tradition of the sport they both raised their arms majestically above their heads, much in the manner a peacock raises his feathers. They cried "En Guarde!" in unison to signal that the contest had begun.
Both of the warriors were skilled in the ways and neither was going to give up. The crushing blow of their coathangers could be heard clear across the village, as well as their sounds of exertion, yet neither of the warriors was quick to tire.
As the battle raged on into the wee hours of the morning, the plastic shards began to come loose from their mighty "swords" and they were flying up in a cloud akin to that of the plume of sawdust that a woodchipper emits. In spite of the shrapnel-ly danger, their eyes glared on, unafraid and unflinching, locked on the same goal: to be champion.
When the dust finally cleared, both of the warriors' weapons were reduced to nothing but rubble. They circled each other, panting, too tired to even raise their arms once more.
"You are a worthy adversary" said the Dark-Haired Warrior
"As are you good sir. Mayhap, we shall meet again one day" replied the Tan-Skinned Warrior.
I never knew if they met again, be it in this life or the next, but that night neither of the warriors triumped and yet, somehow, they both did.
Tonight was a good night. I like being included.