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You are in the skirts of the Mountain - you and your childhood rival, both escorted by your trusty secundants (pistol barrel pumpers). Both of us are now 17 so we can kill each other legally! - you think to yourself jollyly. You have a lot of jolly thoughts recently. Your oponent tells you to choose the type of weapon for the duel. He is being very chivalrous. He wasn't so much back then, two weeks ago, when he grabbed your mother's ass cheek. You really didn't like that. And you definitely didn't quite like the fact that she kind of liked it. You have been very jolly the past 2 weeks and now you thematically choose the:
>rapiers
>single-shot pistols
>double-shot pistols
>triple-shot pistols
>naked fists with broken glass stuck in the sweet cherry flesh
