Fighting words

The fight was on. He needed a win. In fact, he had needed a win for a long time. But his opponent – relentless, indefatigable, sneakier than two foxes on velvet sheets – gave him no quarter. This time, however, he was sure he had it. A grand plan that would set things aright, one moment of triumph amongst so many moments of defeat

Unsteadily, he wobbled towards his nemesis. Not five steps into this heroic wobbitywabbity did he turn around, surrender himself to gravity and fell back onto the bed

The nominal nemesis, sensing another opportunity was at hand, taptaptapped onto the addled heap of a man, whose fever delirium expressed itself in mumbles about fighting and winning. Nemesis, not one for fighting, curled into a ball and purred at the extra body heat

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