Fight! Fight! Fight!

"Why not?" said the joker from the audience.

"I don't know." Fred's voice grew thoughtful. "Perhaps my supernatural abilities were left behind when I left my own world. Or... Perhaps the sorceress who brought me here stole them from me!" It wasn't a thought that had occured to him before, but now that it had, Fred found himself frowning in annoyance. If that were the case, it was yet one more reason for him to curse the memory of the strange woman who brought him here. And yet, he'd recently begun to doubt that Betty had been responsible for his arrival, or even that she was a magic-worker at all. He scowled. There were simply too many unkowns in this strange place. He didn't like it.

Betty, for her part, rolled her incorporeal eyes at being blamed for yet another of Fred's personal problems.

"So you don't have supernatural anything," said the heckler, who apparently had had a bit too much of the ale Fred had been sampling earlier. "Meaning you're really just a wussy-boy when it comes right down to it, right?"

Fred scowled harder. He wasn't entirely sure what the phrase "wussy-boy," meant, but he had a pretty good idea. "Supernatural strength or not, I could still best you in combat, knave!"

The fellow stood up and scowled right back. "Oh, yeah? Prove it!"

Fred's hand drifted down to the hilt of his sword. People in the crowd began yelling "Fight! Fight! Fight!"

1. Fred and the heckler then proceeded outside to the athletic field to engage in honorable combat.
2. Fred drew his sword, and the room suddenly went silent. "Hey!" someone yelled. "He's got a real sword!"
3. And, just at that moment, Madame Zelberta walked in.

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