The word plunges into the ground beside me, an arrow launched from the longbow of a mouth. My heel is nearly incapacitated by the dagger-thin point of a bouba-kiki, smooth and precise but with a deadly, penetrating arrowhead. Turning around in surprise, I glimpse a volley of extended noun-phrases, fronted adverbials and other such lethal weapons rushing towards me like homing pigeons beginning a deadly plunge. A curmudgeonly Krakatoa shocks the ground with it’s high-explosive impact that is swiftly followed by the precision, heat-seeking menace of a celestial, ethereal zephyr and a cascade of “iridescent” and “lustrouses” begin to descend. Ordinarily, these words would be harmless but the harsh tone in which they are uttered tells its own story – a devious tactic to employ.
Frankly, I am disconcerted by that frustrating fiend’s loquacity. This attack is quite unusual given my formidable and ferocious reputation at word duelling that my extensive vocabulary has ensured. With haste I decide I must respond in full force. It doesn’t matter that I cast the first stone with a sly hello from behind a door causing my as yet unknown adversary to stumble. I must gain victory. But first I must get to shelter – these words coming at me are precise and fast.
I am faster though – with the agility of a gazelle galloping from a predator I run. I am weaving, I am jumping, I am ducking, I am almost-but-not-quite-tripping, I am leaping, I am crashing, I am landing-behind-a-most-fortuitously-located-defensive-position. Leaning over my makeshift fortification, I spit out verbal conjugations in the imperfect tense that would normally suffice to eradicate an unthinking enemy. Today my verbal dexterity and lucidity even surprises myself as I steady my breath and launch a barrage of I was pontificating, You were pontificating, He was pontificating, etcetera… To my considerable dismay, they whizz over the head of my unknown nemesis and disintegrate behind him in a wasted firework of disappointment.
Clearly this person knows what they are doing – an experienced word-conjurer. As I ponder the best course of action available from my meagre barricade, I know that I will have to move swiftly. I ready an arsenal of relative clauses, complex lexemes and even a haiku to catch my opponent by surprise. My tongue curls in excited anticipation and I prepare to launch the knock-out blow. I peek over the shelter and open my mouth –
And I’m knocked backwards by the full force of a French determiner-noun combination.
My limbs sprawl in a perplexing mess and my brain seems to be in a similar state. Groggily I search for a comeback, but I seem to be mentally pinned down. I am in shock at the use of a foreign language – surely that should be off limits? I succumb to the inevitable fate of being vanquished by my foe as their shadow looms up over me. I brace myself for the worst by my conqueror –
“Young man what do you think you are doing word-fighting in the corridors with a teacher!”