When I was about 12 or 13 I thought a joust with a friend might be a swell way to pass the time. We wouldn't be riding horses though, we would simply run towards each another. Instead of lances as weapons we would use our legs to kick as soon as we were in striking distance. My backyard, flat but with hills on either side, would be the arena.
We both walked up the grassy inclines, made sure we were ready and with a knightly yell sprinted wildly to meet our fate at the center of the yard. With all of our might we swung a leg in hopes of disabling one another. Our shins connected with a violent crack. We howled in pain on the ground for quite some time. Such was our agony that we both lost consciousness.
I awoke and it was dark. It was raining. I looked over to see the shape of my friend who was still out cold. I went over to him and called out. He didn't respond. There was a flash of lightning that illuminated the whole yard. His head was missing. The slugs had also eaten a large portion of his ribcage and arm as well. I ran inside to get some salt.
xxx
BVE
