Birds of a feather don’t flock together because birds of a feather tend to be jealous of that feather.
V. Shnodgrate, Renowned PL Poet
And he jumped up on a stool for added height. Daddy Salami isn’t too tall, you know. And the stool didn’t add too much to his height. It was a 3-inch stool, if that.
Salami scowled and became decidedly more cranky.
The stool had betrayed him, see.
“Ya cur-belly!” he shouted from his perch. “Ya think ya won? Ya just lost!” And then he belted forth in a strained voice: “Ya just lost evvvvvvvvvverything!“
The professor really wished he hadn’t said that. After all, we were the ones that lost. Well, sorta. Must always keep in the warrior frame of mind, see.
Warrior Frame of Mind:
How are we? Solid.
Chance of success? 100%.
What to fear? Nothing.
I am the reaper.
See. Double-see. And a triple-see, just to make sure you saw.
King Arthur shook his head.
“You think you won?” he asked. “Yeah, no. Not even close.”
Arthur strode further into the room, his regal cape flapping in the breeze behind him.
There was no breeze since we were in a castle. But any time a cape is described in writing, there’s always a breeze, I find. So, I added one for kicks, giggles, and whatnot.
Arthur stopped inches from Ruber Salami.
The ant had met the bear. That was the size difference anyway.
“I’ll enjoy seeing you suffer,” Arthur said.
“Me?” Ruber asked, aghast. “It was his plan.” Ruber stuck a thumb out in Salami’s direction. “Why come and pick on me? And, look, there’s PVJ, too!”
“Ruber,” I said, “don’t bring me up. I’d rather not be brought up; I’d rather not be here; I’d rather just not be–at this special moment.”
Arthur looked at me with a scowl and shook his head.
Then to his soldiers: “Off to the dungeons with them.”
“Didn’t ya hear me?” Salami screamed, frantic from his perch. “I’ve won, cur-face!”
Arthur spun. “Really? You think that by saying that you’re going to win?” He sighed.
And that’s when it happened: Salami propelled himself from his perch, towards the katana. He scooped it up and tossed it to his son. Ruber grabbed it but was immediately torpedo-ed (new word) by Arthur. The katana hit the ground.
This professor scooped it up; the soldiers charged in, and the battle begin.
I traded thrust for thrust, slash for slash. Their broadswords and this professor’s katana lit up the night sky.
Ruber and Salami were also fighting.
Somehow this professor ended up fighting Arthur. The king was holding a katana–it looked exactly like the Jeweled Katana, in fact, save for one significant characteristic: It was way smaller, to fit a person of Arthur’s size.
Why make a copy of the sword?
We traded blows.
Arthur’s katana split in half.
He stepped back, and this professor made towards the exit.
Like an giant anteater running from a jaguar.