The Duel

“I am a young man, both parents slain by foul deeds, wielding a mysterious sword which I inherited, found with me when the monks discovered me on their doorstep.” He flourished the blade, which sparkled. “You are an ancient master of the art who has never taken a student, for none have been worthy enough. There is only one way this can end.”

“Ah, but we are in a modern, possibly a post-modern story,” rejoined the withered old man. “Genre conventions may be defied, even inverted, solely for the sake of pre-empting expectations.”

And then the crocodile ate them both.