Why is Everything in Our Fight Scene so Easily Breakable?
Seriously. I’ve been fighting the five of you for the last four minutes, and in that time we’ve managed to break eighteen glass cases, twenty ancient Chinese vases, six tables, and two Moleskine notebooks, which I didn’t know could shatter. Some of this kind of makes sense, like when two of you shot at some artifacts, but a second ago you just threw a fountain pen and that vase fucking exploded into dust. I….I don’t think that’s how vases work. In fact, as the surprisingly-great-at-combat curator of this museum, I’m sure that’s not how they work.
Listen, I don’t mean to stop the fight. I know you guys are just trying to do your job. I know it’s increasingly hard to join a union, and that when a rich white guy asks you to steal an ancient book to conjure a vampire army, you’ll do it just to afford that family trip to Greece. It’s just, like, am I the only one that has a hard time believing this makes sense? I threw one of you through four tables and you’re still fighting me like a guy that only got thrown through two tables. Maybe you had coffee before you came over here to fight, but I’m worried about you. I know you’re trying to beat me up, but let me know if you need an Uber to the hospital.
Also, can we talk about these glass cases for a second? These cases are bullet proof and made of special glass. We wouldn’t have put those ancient suits of armor in them if anyone could just gently knock into it and walk away a knight. How is it that we managed to break all of them with karate chops and kicks, but also not knock the suits over? When we held a gala to attract investors last week, this one guy, Rodney, fell into a case and cracked his head open. Guy had to get seventeen stitches. How are our hands stronger than all of Rodney?
Like, okay, maybe I’m the only one concerned here. You’re all kind of bouncing on your legs and moving your fists in little circles. It’s just…this can’t end well. The big stained glass window behind me has iron framing that’s been bolstered through alloyed metal joins. Basically, not even a truck going at full speed could break through that window. Based on how everything today is going, though, I’m pretty sure one of us could just accidentally breathe on it and end up destroying the whole thing. With that said, we should definitely take some precautions. Like, if we see that the window is broken, and one of us is kind of spinning our arms to keep from falling out the hole, no one should try and approach that person to start fighting again. Even though I’m the only thing standing between you and a lucrative vampire apocalypse, I don’t want to be the only thing standing between you and seeing your kids graduate college. I can fight all five of you at once, but that doesn’t mean I can catch you if you fall out a huge window.
On a different note, I wanted to ask how everyone keeps finding knives to throw? I did the inventory a few days ago, and we definitely didn’t have this many knives. We had some knives, don’t get me wrong, but we’ve been throwing, like, a lot of knives. The ones that I’ve been pulling out of jacked arms, for example, are really nice, but definitely not in the collection. If any of you brought your own knives, I’d be interested in acquiring some after I kick your ass. You might not be aware of this, but you might be able to get enough money for your collection to invest in a nice Roth IRA or stock portfolio where you could live off the interest and not take jobs from guys with ponytails in Tom Ford suits.
Alright, I’m ready to fight again, but let me know if anyone wants to talk about how weird it is that the entire tiled floor has bright lights in it. It has nothing to do with our fight, but I can never get used to it.
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Eric Farwell has written for The New Yorker, McSweeney’s, Points in Case, Splitsider, Vulture, The Big Jewel, Little Old Lady, Robot Butt, and The Toast (RIP).
