OK, but when I arrive on my lavender plumed white horse wearing my shiny dueling gear accompanied by my entourage (hair dresser, sword polishers, agent, IP Rights Attorney, a camera man, Vegan therapist and adviser; a still photographer, my biographer, personal chef, personal shopper, roadies, banjo tuner, three useless hangers on, and my stylist) my rapier wit alone will cut you to the bone. So deeply, in fact, your future ancestors will be forced to bear your scar of shame, everlasting. The marks of a superior warrior.
You will be cussed and cursed throughout time never ending. It will be on YouTube so your shame will be everlasting. You will be relegated to the footnotes in history books; the sands of time will slowly ebb, leaving nothing but memories of that famous battle, on that fateful day, where Bob (that’s me) defeated the noble Gabreil, from a land called iPad Forums. From sea to shining sea; in villages, towns, hamlets, suburbs, condo complexes large and small; and modern cities, they will sing songs about me, a man named Bob.
Or we could meet at a decent watering hole and I'll buy the first pint or perhaps a splash or two of single malt.
AA
