The battle raged for a night and a day. Five men were killed. The phoenix, glorious and deadly, spread its flames with abandon. The dragon, though twisted and loathsome, moved with cunning dexterity.
Then the Debate Floor doors slammed open. An aged man strode in, clad in the rags of a business suit and bearing a battered briefcase. “This villainy must cease!” he cried. “Sancho! The injunction!” He held out a hand.
A bolt of phoenix-fire incinerated him on the spot, moments before the dragon’s jaws closed upon his blackened body.
Everyone agreed it had been a most profitable debate.