I was a weird kid in high school. 
I would always talk about goats and nachos and sporks. I would always carry a spork with me at all times. The uses of this device were numerous. My group of friends were very supportive and would always ask for spare sporks, and I'd hook them up.

Things were not tranquil forever. There was one, a drama fag named Wade Izatt, who would stand to oppose me. He stood for the things I despised. He was an overachiever, the preppy girls loved him. His sense of humor could be likened to Bob Sagat, and yet he had fans. 

So we did battle. In childish and juvenile ways, we took each other to the limits. He would break my sporks at any given oppotunity, and mock me. So one day he brought yogurt to eat for lunch. As he stepped away I stole his plastic spoon, and destroyed it, and returned to my seat with ninja like agility. As he continued with his lunch, he got to his yogurt and opened it. Then he looked around, and said "hey where's my spoon?" I then walked by and said "Gee, wouldn't it be nice if you had one of THESE?" and busted out a spork.

He was pissed. He grabbed his Dr Pepper and shook it so as to get it all over my backpack. This, I decided, was uncool. But now was not the time to act.

Later that week, there was another encounter in band class. I played saxophone, and he played trumpet, and thusly he was behind me. He began to ridicule me and my friend with Sagat quality insult, and I retorted as best I could. Eventually the words became more harsh, and at the end of class, battle begun. I quickly reached for a spork. He made an assinine comment, reached for the spork, stole it, destroyed it. I then reached into my coat and grabbed another and before he could react I struck. Deep into his shoulder with the three white prongs. And back out again. His skin turned red. I had drawn blood. He yelled "you dickhead!". But it had no effect. I exited the room. It was over. I had won.