'You're bad at gathering information about the typical longevity of surprise merriment springing from the ashes of an intense period of bereavement - for your age!' I screamed, flawlessly insulating my foe.
As I'd predicted I did have a struggle on my hands, but as I established earlier, even though danger always looms, and is easy identified as long as you have a special tooth, it's impossible to predict exactly what TYPE of danger you face.
The struggle this time turned out to be a physical altercation. The worst type of physical altercation. One with a creature whose powers were unpredictable. And undocumented. And unheralded. And unadulterated. And unsandwiched between a sky storm and a slippery curve, and didn't even have a delicious chipotle aioli in this unsandwiching. In this specific case my danger lay with a foe which was a decorative curtain I'd accidentally walked into.
It seemed to have a dozen limbs wrestling with me, all of which were strangely sewed together, something I had to admire, and consider copying to start a FRESH and NEW trend later in the week. Its skin was coarse and materially, and colored bruise purple (My FAVORITE color). And it was tall, almost as tall as the ceiling. I'd scrappled with many a foe in my life, but this one was unique, clearly I couldn't out-muscle it, or out-skill it, which is why I set myself the task of instead trying to out trash talk it.
'I bet when you see someone truckin' you say to them 'keep on truckin', knowing FULL well that eventually they'll have to stop trukin' to refuel, you dick!' I screamed at it.
'You're so ugly I bet you've never even TRIED to go to Jupiter!' I bellowed at it.
'If you were friends with a lampshade I bet you'd consider it your best friend and yet it would only consider YOU its THIRD best friend!' I shrieked at it.
'You appear to seem like your feeling-based predictions of the longitude of regular overpopulations a of mice founded steamboat races would be so awful that you'd be off by a degree or two!' I howled at it.
That last one was a low blow. And frankly a slight exaggeration of what I truly believed. Something I'm not completely proud of. But it did do the job. It's feelings were hurt, so much so that it seemed to go limp. And I used my new upper hand to struggle it to the ground, and after only twenty to thirty minutes of hard fought battle I overcame it's mighty grapple.
It was a bitter sweet victory. Sweet because I'd beaten it's pants off, finally answering a question that's plagued man for millennia 'do curtains wear pants?' The answer is that they don't. I'd had to put my own pants on the curtain to wrestle off, and then swear up and down that they were a gift, and therefore owned by him, and that he didn't need to pay me for them, or even reciprocate with a gift for me in the future, although if he insisted I am partial to foods that are traditionally made with a spinach base, only with the spinach taken out and replaced with a new home devoid of ghost monkeys. And bitter because I'd tried biting his face off during the melee and for some reason it wore what seemed like ten years of restaurant waft as a moisturizer which tasted real bitter. So weird.
But mostly my victory felt triumphant. It roused me. It inspired me. It made me feel like an all powerful King. Doubt oozed out of my body almost as fast as the blood dripped out of the gaping stomach wound I'd picked up during the brawl. And that was a lot of blood. Which meant that was a lot of doubt leaving me. And without it this doubt I felt dazzled, formidable and confident for perhaps the first time in my life, I was so lacking in doubt that I was getting giddy and light headed.
When you're overwhelmed with belief, credence and conviction you have to strike and use it NOW, and luckily I had something BIG to use it on. And with confidence practically spraying from my core across the room I was forced to look closer to my body for answers, so I wasn't grossed out, and that's when I spotted it!
*Where 'it' is the thing that I spotted, that shall be revealed* really soon.
*Revealed like the rib of a man who's tasted a BIG victory*.
*The type of victory that this curtain has NEVER experienced. So much so that I think it's ribs had shriveled to almost nothing. Sad really.