Pledged to Service

The swordsman bowed. "What would you have, milady?"

"Perhaps some olives?"

"At once!" He saluted and ran off, leaping silverware and soup bowls. At the olive bowl, he encountered another thumb-high man. "Avaunt, varlet! The lady desires olives."

"Thou'lt wait thy turn," sneered the other.

"Cad!"

"Poltroon!"

In a flash, both needle-sized swords were drawn. The ensuing duel left an overturned wineglass, a trampled biscuit, and gravy-soaked bootprints behind.

"I could just reach over there," said the lady.

"Nonsense," the swordsman gasped, clasping his wounded side. He extended his sword, tipped with a speared olive. "I shall return with another."