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  • R.T.

The Southerner

We were all enjoying some of the downtime between the seminar Socratic, but a gentleman beside me (he was rather uniform in his getup), kept blubbering in his mouth like he was seizing—by this, I mean: he wouldn’t damn-near shut up! I had asked him politely several times, but the gentleman continued to argue about “this” and argue about “that!” Eventually, I fell into his trappings upon an uncontrollably voracious appetite to win for myself something worthy of vainglorious behavior. I told him that his theories and postulates on “this” and on “that” were out of the ordinary, though not in being extraordinary because; only that his thoughts were unfathomably stupid! I later found out, however, that this man was only mocking my speech, southern as it is, and believed that those who dwell within the deeper south than the Deep couldn’t forfeit stupidity for intellect even if the option was there. Now, I promise you that I’m more well educated than most folks throughout the country—perhaps the world—and I was in no way prepared to lie face down in some mud and accept the butt-stomping this sir offered my character. To be so accosted is more a sin than most things. And so I challenged this man to a duel, something I must’ve only been familiarized to because of the nature of my “backwoods culture;” he accepted though, thinking it hilarious that I’d attack in such a manner. Of course, I first proposed that we duel by guns—we did, but he insisted that, after neither of us had been severely injured, he was “unsatisfied with the outcome.” Such was my response: “Let us duel by sword, the finer duel anyhow.” We did, but after I had scratched him upon the cheek, he said, “I’m unsatisfied with the outcome.” It was outlandish to say so, but I offered another method of duel yet again: “Let us duel by fisticuffs;” he accepted. But, I will say, he was already uncertain of this duel; yet he dueled: he lost; to which he shouted, “I am not satisfied with this outcome!” And though I was reluctant, then “knowing” that I could too easily harm this gentleman of the east, I offered—anyhow—my final solution: “Let us duel by rough and tumble.” His eyes seemed confused at this, but that passionate drive in his patronizing brain steamed at me with “YES YES YES” and hoping for a victory, finally. Such a horrid duel, I should say; I wish I had recognized his passion while I was still with two eyes.

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