Dueling Bandits

No one wanted it to come to this. Sure, if you checked with Arvelyn, or my other ex-wife, several of my children, or anybody on the commune staff, a number of them may have wanted it to come to this. But no one I like wanted it to come to this: A duel to the death.

I have besmirched the name of Boguslaw Sadowski, and it's no small feat to besmirch his name, given he's a dirty red con-man, heartless thug, and general bad cookie. But the time for words has passed, at least until we resume the slander trial. I for one won't wait that long. The duel is ten days from now. One of us will be dead by the time that trial rolls around, making it a lot easier case for the other guy. Though the survivor will get stuck with court costs, that's no free lunch.

The besmirching in question began two days ago, when I came home to find Boguslaw Sadowski in my home, talking to my wife in that unintelligible Russian blather they both know. Mob boss and Sting-lookalike Yogi explained to me Boguslaw would be moving in for the next few forevers, or until he could find his own place. Well, something snapped in me, good people, probably a couple of lower vertebrae, and I lost another inch in height. That I'm used to, but being made a fool of in my own home, and being completely aware of it, that's something I'm not. As if to make things worse, I noticed Boguslaw, talking to Felchyana still, make the international hand symbol for asshole, which I won't share with you decent folk here.

That was it, I was incensed. I grabbed the nearest thing I could and threw it at the mad Russian, a bucket of confetti I keep on hand for emergency purposes. At first Boguslaw was delighted, then he realized the intended insult and was driven into a mad rage. He threatened to cut off the fingers of all my living children in response, which I laughed off—if he's got that sort of time, good luck to him, right? Then he decided it was more effective to pick me up by the ankles and hang me out my own window.

Well, I've been hung out windows by better than he and didn't bat an eye, but the insult of doing it to me in my own house, in front of my non-English-speaking wife, and revealing my unsightly ankles to the whole world. Boguslaw Sadowski made an enemy for life that day, good people, and the difference now is I told him to his face. I slapped him with a glove I keep for duel challenges, and it left quite a welt, being a rubber surgical glove. I then pulled it taut and snapped it in his face, and his eye has been bandaged ever since—hopefully that will effect his aim quite a bit. Since we are dueling in ten days, as I aforementioned.

You all know I am not afraid of death, when it is happening to someone else. In this case, though it comes for me, I will stand proud against it. Boguslaw Sadowski may fire an endless barrage of bullets in my direction, though technically that will be against all the rules of the duel, and I will not falter. If he tries to kill Felchyana and Camembert and Lee, I will not weaken. If he kills my ex-wife Arvelyn I may even send him a nice thank-you note and an FTD bouquet. But whatever happens, no matter how logic argues with me, I will not back down from this challenge.

For I have been insulted with an obscene hand gesture by a man who barely speaks the language, good people. And some things defy common sense. Rok Finger are one of those things.

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