His libido temporarily quelled, Lester heads outside to face his rival, kitten launcher slung over his shoulder alongside what appears to be a nearly limitless supply of kittens. At the end of the street, Marcus Aurelius Peebles stands, his badger blaster cocked and ready.
“So,” says Lester, “You were expecting me.”
“An arrogant fop like you?” he sneers. “Your moves are as predictable as ever, Onions. Your time has passed. It’s time to step down, old man.”
“Step down? Feh. I think after a round with my kitten launcher, you’ll see that it shall be you who does the stepping down. Into your grave, no less!”
Unfortunately, before the two of them can even begin their quarrel, an enormous gust of wind picks up and within the space of a second, both men are hurled through the air, screaming, in completely opposite directions. Lester is impaled on a nearby church steeple. A black cloud of what appears to be thousands of kittens swirls around him for an instant before it is dispersed by the merciless wind. Marcus Aurelius Peebles meets his fate in a similar fashion when he finds himself sandwiched between a rusty old delivery truck and the side of a mattress factory. People would later find the remains of his badgers as far away as Churlington.
The moral of the story: never do battle with your arch nemesis in the middle of a hurricane, for crying out loud.