Partly Cloudy, 64°
I seriously need to fight this guy in cargo pants, but who knows what he’s got in his pockets? I’ve really, really gotta get some payback on this guy, but he’s just got so many pockets, and they’re So. Damn. Big.
I need to teach him a serious lesson, but there’s just no limit to what he could have hidden in there. I could swing at him, and he could pull out a shield from his back pocket, or he could dodge and retaliate with a whip grabbed from his knee pocket. Honestly, he could pull out a small pebble from his left pocket and a wooden yet tastefully engraved slingshot from his right and hit me before I could even get within striking distance. Even if I managed to poison his tea, he could have the exact antidote stored in the zipped-up pocket to the left of his thigh. Really, there’s nothing he couldn’t account for.
He’s wronged me in a way that cannot be remedied by simple communication or explanation but instead must be shed on the battlefield in blood and tears. That being said, I just can’t seem to draft a strategy for my attack. With each move I plan, he has the possibility of pulling something out of those incredibly bulky pants to thwart my approach. He doesn’t even seem to mind that they make him look like a 1950s paratrooper. He’s truly sacrificing basic fashion principles for combat prowess.
I’ve also got a score to settle with an athlete, but I’m worried that their giant coat will repel my attacks like a turtle shell.
