A Gentleman's Duel

It was to be a contest between gentlemen, a duel between aggrieved sophisticates, a battle between two businessmen of renown who found a wedge driven between them. Unlike many such contests, this one was being fought by a pair of exceptionally-large competitors, one a griffin, the robber-baron Griff N, and the other the widely-known Gentleman Draco. Both stood in the center of the beautifully-decorated halls clad in their finest accoutrements and turned their gazes upon the other creature’s soul.

“Pardon me, page, but I was told I would be facing someone in the Circle of Equals today,” Draco said, beginning the duel. “be a good lad and fetch him.”

“Sadly, sir, that is impossible,” Griff countered. “We scoured every gutter and trash bin in the city and could find none of your caliber, so they sent one of your betters – myself – as a sign of pity.”

Though both competitors grinned, Draco seethed. Rarely was the first exchange not in his favor. Still, no need to let his heckles rise just yet.

“Pity, you say? Indeed, they knew I’d be hungry upon arrival and had a meal waiting for me! I’m not normally expected to fry my own chicken though.”

The griffon bristled a little before smiling. “The only thing you shall be eating will be your own words.”

“You’re absolutely right. I try not to eat junk food if I can help it.”

“That’s not what your midsection-“ Griff angrily countered.

“Oh, we’re resorting to fat jokes, are we?” Draco interrupted. “What other sorts of puerile humor are we going to descend to? Yo Mamma jokes? Knock knock jokes?”

The dragon smiled with predatory humor as Griff began to choke down a furious squawk.

“But if you insist…knock knock.”

Griff glared ferociously, but said “Who’s there?” anyway.

“Griff.”

“Griff who?”

“Some nobody whose biggest business was in a litter box,” Draco answered, dripping with cheer.

For a moment, Griff squatted like he was about to pounce, which would have made the day suddenly fun and excited, but at the last moment the griffon rose again with a forced chuckle.

“Just like a lizard to make a simple exchange drag on,” he spat.

“Oh, we’ve gone to punning! I love puns!” Draco beamed. “Although if you think you’re up to my level, you’re ‘kitten’ yourself.”

That caused quite the victory, however brief, as Griff flinched and stepped back. Weakness confirmed, thought Draco. Time to push.

“Why the long ‘paws’, Griff? Not feeling so catty anymore?” Draco growled, stepping forward.

Before Griff could squawk a response, Draco slammed his foot down. “If you’re planning to make a fee-line to the door, ‘meow’s the time! So stop pussy-footing around or else I’m putting this purr-fect waste of my time on your tab-by!”

With each pun, Draco stomped forward forcing the griffon into a corner. The pathetic excuse for a predator even had his back arched like a little housecat.

“For once though, you’re not the cat in something,” Draco concede. “In this game of cat-and-mouse, you’re definitely THE MOUSE.”

With that last insult, it seemed that Griff had finally hit his limit. He’d been backed into a corner – literally – and there was no way out except through Draco, an opportunity the business dragon had been waiting. With a cross between a roar and a hawk-like shriek, Griff leaped forward, claws swiping. Without so much as disturbing his top hat though, Draco stepped to the side and brought the blunt end of his tail down on Griff’s back.

“In all sincerity though, this has been an enjoyable afternoon,” Draco said, all courtesy and pleasantry once more. “If you ever want another lesson in pain and suffering, please look me up.”