Beat The Clock.

September 19 - Duel

A melancholic overture played in the background of the sculptured garden of the estate. Two young men stood back to back, their pistols held tightly to their chests, their grips revealing the white knuckles of their wrath. As the song that demonstrated each of their rising, angry emotions, they walked the paces to what could their final decision.

One last attempt to keep their honor.

The last step came with a crescendo. Each turned with a flourish, embroidered coats flying behind them, shooting at the object of their turmoil.

Fifty yards away stood a lone black camera system filming the entire escapade. Two women stood beside one another. One of the women, a tall blond with a scripted rolled up in her hand, tried her hardest to keep from laughing aloud, her mirth shaking her entire boy. The other, a petite brunette with dark sunglasses masking her reaction, let a small smirk creep up to her mouth.

"How did you get them to do this again?" asked the laughing lady, watching her boyfriend lay down in the grass, fake blood staining his ruffled white shirt. His wig had fallen off sometime during the fall.

The smile on the face of the brunette widened. An "A" on her art assignment was in the bag. "I threatened to tell Mom the truth about who trashed the car last Fourth of July. Better to have the "troublemaker" sister take the blame than tarnish their sterling reputations with our parents."

"Honor, indeed."