It was to be an epic battle. One that went down into the history books with the official label of “Freakin’ Sweet.” Good against Evil, the Righteous against the Damned, Wife against Husband. Battle lines were drawn. Rules were laid down. Guns loaded, we readied our body and our souls.
And then we stopped to take some humorously intimidating photos.
And then we set off with only one thing on our minds, total annihilation of our significant other. While he was devious, cunning, and relentless, I remained honorable and patient, biding my time. I took many hits and gave some in return. But soon, the fateful time came, and he ran out of his ammo. Seizing my chance, I advanced with a ceaseless stream of ammo bombarding the enemy.
I was victorious!
Or so I thought. Exhausted, I fell to the ground, letting my guard down too soon. Suddenly, I was attacked by his minion, who had been waiting not-so-quietly in the shadows. I had just enough ammo left for one final shot.
And I, too, was vanquished.
And that no matter what, Corgis win.