Famer's Story-Writing Debate Tournament Round #1 DakotaKrafick VS Logic_on_rails

Welcome to famer's third story-writing debate tournament!The rules and voting guidelines will be provided here:S&G will be awarded as usual.Conduct will only be awarded to the side that forfeits least (cursing within the story is allowed as this is a story).Arguments will be awarded for the side providing the more interesting continuation of the story.Sources will be awarded to the side with better writing techniques and displays a better ability with writing a story.Both sides will produce a story starting with the Instigator (that's me). One story will be created, and must be continued on from both parties within the debate.For more information about both the tournament and the members involved, please visit:http://www.debate.org...And now, to the story...* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *Through the town of LeMore, many folk did wonderJust who was this woman who came from there yonder?"She just wandered in here," they yapped to each other,"Wandered in here from somewhere there yonder."This "she" they referred to, well, pretty was sheThe prettiest there was, I’d say quite certainlyTall and thin and sharp furthermorePerhaps she’d be the sharpest in all of LeMore"Perhaps, but alas," the rumors did whisper,"Sharp doesn’t begin to describe Lenny the Fiddler.""A fiddler?" you squak, "One who fiddles with fiddles?What does a fiddler know of puzzles and riddles?"A fiddler can be smart, of that I admit,But just smart enough to play their instrument."Don’t be so hasty, in your rush to insultSit back down and I’ll teach you what’s whatFor Lenny, you see, was only a fiddler in hobbyBefore that a painter and before that a disc jockeyA doctor for three years and a lawyer for twoAnd poetry he wrote, even haikuA jack of all trades, some rightly called this fiddle playerAnd lest we forget, he had been appointed the town’s mayor!In the town of LeMore, only the cleverest could be mayorYou had to earn the title at the famous Town FairHeld once every year, the townsfolk did gatherIn the square for good food, good fun, and good laughterThe main event, though, always was this:The Contest of Riddles, which no one would missAll those who would enter form a circle togetherCome up with tough riddles and try to beat each otherThe mayor goes first and chooses a victimSays a riddle so difficult he think it will stump himSixty seconds he has to come up with an answerOtherwise he’s out and the mayor picks on anotherIf he guesses right, though, he stays in the competitionAnd then it’s his turn to choose any person to questionThis goes on for hours till all are stumped but just oneWho is then crowned mayor for that whole next year to comeLenny had this honor the past thirty-five years"Soon will be thirty-six," he boasted, drinking some beers"You’ve won the last dozen with no trouble at all,"the barkeep admitted while cleaning his stall,"But this year will be different, that I guarantee.For that woman who came to town, participating she’ll be.""A woman, you say," Lenny said skeptically,"A woman can’t best a man, and least of all not me!""If underestimating was the game," came a voice at the door,"You’d take first prize, of that I am sure."In walked the woman, about whom they’d just talked,"But it’s not," she went on, "so when you lose, don’t be shocked.""Please," Lenny scoffed, "Don’t make me laugh.You're not my equal; you're barely my half!""We’ll see," the woman countered with a sly smile,"tomorrow is the contest; may you bring all your guile."