Lithium Ion beats Nickel Metal-Hydride beats Nickel Cadmium. All three beat more delicately scented liquids.
"Wow, you smell good" she said. The tendrils of her carefully-selected perfume reached over to my nose and gave it a playful tweak.
"Excuse me?" I replied. I am not used to talkative high school girls acosting me in the mall. This is probably because I am not used to the mall. This is probably also because high school girls ignored me when I was actually in high school.
"What cologne are you wearing?" she smiled knowingly, teasingly at me, swooping in for the kill, bringing her face close to mine.
I didn't know what to do. I wasn't about to give up my chair and leave. I spent ten minutes finding this chair. It was the only place next to a power outlet in the entire area. I didn't care if a girl was hitting on me, I wasn't going to give up my ground. I had writing to do, and my laptop battery needed to be charged.
Poor girl. She didn't realize she was dealing with the battery Nazi.
I decided to be noxious.
"I don't wear cologne, and I probably don't smell very good. In fact, I haven't showered since yesterday." Ha! Take that! It was the truth.
She wasn't prepared for my answer. Recoiling, she stepped back. I gotta remember that line, I thought.
But she didn't give up. "You're just joking me. See, [she began to speak faster than fine print] ireallythinkyoulikemenscologne andi'mgivingoutfreesamples fromsomeshoporother, so would you like a free sample?"
Now I've got you, I thought and secretly rejoiced. For a moment, I had hesitated on the edge of retreat, but I knew her game now. I couldn't lose.
"I'm allergic to cologne" I said. She pulled back another step. Take that!
"Oh."
"I take medication twice a day for it" And that! She frowned and began to walk away. But I wasn't finished. I wanted blood.
"At church," I raised my voice, for she was walking rapidly away, "I choose a seat based upon how few women are in the area." She was almost gone.
"Perfume is death," I yelled after her. But she had disappeared, melting into the mingle of the mall crowd.
Parting is such sweet sorrow.