Here is a picture of me and my friend Clayton battling at my wedding. It is a family tradition that the groom and his best man must battle so the groom will prove his worthiness in front of his friends and family. The best man must choose the weapons and conditions of the duel. Clayton chose flaming sticks, and we only had to fight until first strike. Luckily, I had expected he would choose such a thing, so my practice had not been in vain. Also, he had been drinking more than a little, and I easily struck him on the shoulder before he could land a blow on me.
My father claims this tradition has been with my family for some time, but I think he was just a big Star Trek fan, and surreptitiously snuck this "tradition" into the canon of our family. My mother is from Down Under, she likes butter on her sandwiches. Every family has traditions.
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