Snowboarding

I like to snowboard on white hills with a group of fellow enthusiasts. Look: we’re all flying off a bump that we use as a ramp. All of us people are skiing well. I’m a skiing fanatic. My boots are laced tight. 

Now, late in the evening, the World Snowboarding Champion makes his appearance. So I challenge him to a dance-off: 

First I go to the ski lodge and drink boiling hot gruel. Once I’m nourished, I signal that I’m ready. We grab our fencing lances and trudge through the deep white snow until we reach the place of the ramp. The ground is mushy beneath our shoes. I begin by thrusting my fencing lance right into the snowboarding champion’s loins, and the blood comes steaming out onto the tundra. The World Snowboarding Champion dies, and I marry his beautiful girlfriend.