I could fight 99 duck sized horses. The 100th will be sitting back, biding his time, watching me tearfully turn his brethren into stamped mush, and then once I’m on my knees with my shirt ripped open screaming up to the heavens “WHY GOD WHY” , that’s when he’ll get a bead on me in his scope, spit out his cigar, cock the barrel, and whisper “smile you sonuvawitch!”