Last evening, after a tough day of harvesting blackheads from sheep for medical research, I found myself in combat against a foe I cannot ever possibly hope to defeat. The difficulty has nothing to do with the respective power of the villian, but in their gender.
Yes, friends of righteousness, Captain Goldensword was forced to battle a woman.
She is called 'The Complainiac', and her she has the power to sap the strength and will to live from any man with the shrill sonic waves produced by her mutated larynx. I ran afoul of her when I foiled her plot to doubly and triply reuse coupons to rack up discounts of evil and insane proportions. The duel commenced, she attacked with grace and skill, I defended with grace and skill, but that's the extent of the progression of the fight. I simply could not bring myself to strike her - mother had instilled in me from a young age that it was completely wrong to hit girls, even if they deserved it.
I came close to snapping and letting myself pummel the Complainiac when she said that my tights were gay and the way they spread my buttocks was sickening, but I somehow managed to control myself. I am wondering if restraint isn't another one of my superpowers. Ultimately, I was crushed beneath the force of her voice, and my strength failed me. I lay on the ground, writhing from pain of both an emotional and physical nature, and watched her fly away with the Ronald McDonald jewel. In the dark hours that followed my defeat at the hands of the Complainiac, I found myself plagued with a troubling thought that I could not escape. Although she was now my sworn enemy, my mind insisted on picturing her in an apron, preparing spaghetti, and my salivary glands produced spittle as though they were about to consume the imaginary spaghetti.
I should not have such thoughts concerning my enemies. But in my imagination, her spaghetti looked really really good.