Charging is an art, I think. If you’re to the left, you’ll miss; if you’re to the right, you’ll miss; and if you’re to the middle, you’ll hit.
662/3%. That’s the chance you’ll miss.
Anyways and a few, that’s the math lesson for today.
Now, this professor was charging King Arthur, because Arthur ran when I needed him.
It turned out, though, that Arthur had a broadsword. He drew it. And we fought brutally.
The professor, see, didn’t have to worry about aiming, or any such things, after all.
We traded blows back and forth; sometimes rejecting the blows; sometimes accepting them.
Then, we got fagged out. And we took a breather.
“You fight well,” Arthur remarked.
“So do you,” I answered.
That’s when Mr. Ratherquite approached.
“Now, sirs,” he said, “enough of this. Why can’t there be peace and hugs all around? Why is there always fighting and meanness?”
The whole party of people (we were at a party, mind you) had formed a circle around us.
Mr. Ratherquite’s ladies both sounded their agreement with their leader.
“Yes,” Mr. Ratherquite continued, “if everyone was sweet and peaceful, the world would be a much better place.”
I was about to say something caustic, when The Veezler entered.
“You’re wrong,” he said, in that tone of voice which is a bit unnerving. “See, there’s always those people who…”
He stopped there and looked at one of Mr. Ratherquite’s ladies–the one with blond curls.
Then he continued: “…those people who want to see the world burn.”
Mr. Ratherquite was cut off.
“Oh no,” The Veezler continued. “For instance, I like to destroy things, just to destroy things. If I take out a gun and point it at someone…will you stop me, or hug me?”
There were some gasps and sputterings.
“Let’s see, shall we?”
And quick as a wink, The Veezler pulled out a small gun and pointed it at a party guest.
No one moved.
But the door banged open, and Daddy Salami’s rebellion came charging through.
Now, this professor skipped out the back door and ran as quickly as possible back into the woods…