Eric's first official post, discounting The Inaugural Post, regards one thing we will likely hear much more about (his marriage) and another that, if there is a just God in this universe, we will hear much, much more about (Eric getting stabbed). Granted, the "stabbing" in question is of the fake, harmless fencing variety, but one can only hope that it leads to bigger and sharper and bloodier and more murderier things.
I notice early on that I am taking an extremely violent tack in this blog, and I find this disturbing. My therapist tells me that these feelings of aggression are, in fact, expressions of my own feelings of inadequacy, but she won't be saying that when I slice her face off.
Anyhoo, it turns out that Eric and Allison have been taking fencing lessons! This appears to have been going on for some time--"3-4 months," says Eric--and yet they are still taking said classes with children in their early teens. This slow rate of development is slightly puzzling; one would assume that a couple of healthy, fully-grown twentysomethings with college educations would quickly outpace their much younger, more awkward classmates and move on up the fencing education ladder to something at least resembling a Low-A baseball team. However, their continued toil in the lower depths of early teenage-level fencing leads me to the conclusion that Mr. Walkingshaw has found the sport of fencing to be a little bit beyond his grasp, a conclusion that seems all the more apt given that Eric himself reveals he lost the session-ending tournament to Allison. His wife. Who, I might point out, is a girl. Not that I believe she is incapable of being a world-class fencer; in fact, I have nothing but the kindest things to say about Mrs. Walkingshaw when it comes to anything except her worrying lack of taste in life partners. I am sure Allison has long been ready to move on from fake-stabbing middle schoolers, but has stayed back and even let poor Eric run up a string of unlikely victories against her in order to preserve what little remains of his athletic self-esteem.
But alas! Their next fencing lesson falls on the same day as their anniversary, and Eric has, in his infinite wisdom, decided it would be a great thing for this young couple to fence each other on that most special of special days (for married people. For people like me, a special day is a day when we don't wake up covered in sweat and wondering why our clothes our covered in the blood of neighborhood dogs and, in fact, the fur, teeth, and internal organs of neighborhood dogs as well).
So on the one hand, part of me wants to ridicule Eric for his choice of anniversary festivities (as well as the relatively large size of his nose). On the other hand, part of me wants to congratulate him, because it allows Allison to practice the spousal murder that she will one day have to perform, for real, likely in front of fewer horrified teenagers, that will save humanity from the Walkingshawian scourge.
Eric then concludes his post by drawing parallels between this upcoming Malice in Corvallis and famous duels in cinematic history, from The Princess Bride (over-rated), Star Wars: Episode One of the Sucky Ones (over-rated, by Eric anyway), and the new Indiana Jones movie (which I have not seen but since Eric seems to have liked it I will probably see, and then shit all over in the most gleeful of fashions). The key thing to draw from these comparisons is that in the film versions, someone dies at the end, while in the real life version, Eric will go on living happily ever after and I, as a result, will die a little bit inside. If only this silly little game of thrust-and-parry were for real!
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