Chopsticks

Another day, another prompt. This one is short and I actually managed to finish within the 10 minute time-limit! The prompt was: When he tried to attack me with ______, I couldn’t help but _______.

When he tried to attack me with chopsticks, I couldn’t help but defend myself. I grabbed my fork, blocking his parry and forcing his weapon of choice to the side. He grunted in pain, as if I’d cut him deeply, but I knew better. It was a defense mechanism; he was trying to make me feel sorry for him.

Instead, I grabbed a second weapon: my spoon.

He regrouped, coming at me full force yet again and I barely had time to throw up my defenses, the clang of wood on metal as his stick met the curved edge of the spoon, throwing his balance and giving me the edge for once. But he wasn’t as stupid as I thought, and he’d split the chopsticks between his two hands, and I didn’t see the second one hurtling toward me like an arrow until it was too late.

It impaled me and I had no choice but to break it off, I’d dig the rest of it out later. He was on the ground and I was bleeding, but I still had the upper hand. As it were.

“How dare you?” I yelled at him. “You don’t deserve to use the mighty sticks of chop. Only those who earn the right through patience and skill may use them. And you have neither.”

I brought my fork down on his remaining stick, breaking it in half and he yelled in horror, his connection to this world gone.

“Now, never return to this realm,” I said, covering my wound.

“One day, Dionysus. One day I will claim my rightful place as the master of all cutlery!” He yelled, fading away into the ether.

I glanced around. Food strewn everywhere. Blood on the ground. And two broken chopsticks. I had stopped him for now. But next time my utensils might not be enough. Next time, it would be war.