Absolutely not, good sir.

As it happens, the insult in question occurred upon my first visit to the quiet town of Rosemont, Illinois, that lovely locale whence GFest centers its operations. It was as fine a day as any; the temperature was warm but pleasantly mild - a far cry from the oppressive humidity of the North Georgia mountains that I deign to call my place of residence. I was ambling along the avenue towards the majestic spire of the Pickwick theatre, wearing my finest vest - the pride of my wardrobe - and admiring the graceful Art Deco architecture before me when who should cross my path but the inimitable Matthew Frank.

Feeling gracious, I addressed him most politely: "Good day, sir!" I exclaimed but he did not reply. Instead, he continued his stroll unabated. Perhaps, I thought privately, he had not heard my salutation. I called to him once more, "Good day, sir," a bit more pointedly this time. Still, he did not respond. It was curious to me, that this gentleman should not acknowledge me. I changed the path of my own walk to follow him. Surely a fellow of Mr. Frank's stature would not commit so scandalous an impropriety as to ignore a person of my own stature. Even if he did not know who I was - though I then laughed at the thought - surely he would not be so rude to such an obviously well-dressed and upstanding citizen as myself.

"Good day, Mr. Frank," I called out once more, again to no avail. I was positively horrified. Thrice had I hailed this fellow and thrice had he failed to respond. I was now certain of the fact that he was indeed turning a deaf ear to my greetings and, believe you me, I was appalled.

"Mr. Frank!" I cried, my voice quivering with a barely-contained rage. His pace slowed to a stop at this. "Thrice have I attempted to engage you in casual conversation and each time you have refused to acknowledge me! What manner of man do you think yourself to be, that you should ignore a person of such cordiality as myself?"

Without turning around, the fellow finally spoke: "Why, you contemptible whelp! If one finds my person recognizable enough to know my most glorious of names, then one should most certainly know that I refuse to speak to anyone who wears a vest such as that. It is a foul, ignominious thing and I shudder to think that I have already lowered myself to one's level long enough to have spoken these few words to you here and now. I will thus be on my way and I would very much appreciate one having courtesy enough to remove oneself from my presence."

By this point I was positively livid and my fists-- nay, my every extremity trembled, for I ached to deliver the most violent of blows upon the disgraceful visage before me. Were it any other article upon my person I might have merely passed this off as a minor offense but, no, he insulted my prized vest! My love! My life! It would be no understatement to say that I loved this particular vest more than my own progeny, for events that I shall not recount for you here, dear reader, had bestowed upon these bits of fabric an affinity and importance of such magnitude that one can scarcely begin to describe the depths of my feelings towards them.

"Sir!" I roared, "You have insulted me! You have cut me to the very core and I shall not stand for it! Take back your contemptuous words or, God as my witness, I will strike you down and take your head as a new centerpiece for my mantle!"

Mr. Frank now turned to face me for the first time and addressed me with a piercing stare. "I refuse, for any individual that would demean oneself by donning as repellant a vest as the one you have chosen to prance about in deserves no civilities from me and therefore I shall bestow none. Rather, I will postulate that your comprehension of acceptable fashion was most probably influenced by a colorblind porpoise!"

"Slanderous rogue! I should like very much to know if your blade runs quite as sharp as your tongue!" Yes, I had thrown down the glove.

"A duel?" said he, a fire alight in his eyes, "To the death?"

"I would have it no other way!"

Without a moment's thought, he replied, "Very well! I relish the thought of chastising your improprieties with a quick stroke of steel!" He laid a hand until the hilt of his rapier, making as though to draw.

"Nay, you uncivilized peasant! I shan't sully the streets of this fine locale with your blood! I propose our duel be held at sunrise tomorrow. By the river, perhaps!"

Dropping his hand away from his sword once more, my foe suppressed his anger and stated, "I find these terms acceptable. For today, we shall part ways but tomorrow, I will pry your warm, still-beating heart from your corpse and feast upon your despair as your writhe in your own agony and regret!" And with that he stormed away.

Friends, I tell you now: I arrived at the river bank the following morning at sunrise, just as had been agreed but Matthew Frank was no where to be found. Ever since, I have hunted him with the same fury one sees reflected in the eye of a mighty falcon. Though we have clashed on numerous occasions, he has always escaped to live another day. However, I have vowed to make him pay his debt to me in full and that debt's only acceptable compensation is the final, labored breath he will exhale after being run through with my own rapier!

God save ye, Mr. Frank. Your day of reckoning will soon be at hand!

you know, just because you're a fan of goji-chan, that doesn't mean you have to act like him.