the stomach declines to support direct action

I’m okay with the youths forming dueling societies and wearing bright sashes indicating their success to date and prowess with the blade, but I wish they’d stick to official dueling areas.

I couldn’t go grab my lunch in my usual spot today ’cause two bravos were going at it in the potato chip aisle, flashing blades cutting open vacuum-sealed bags when they failed to land home, the air full of potato bits and seasoning dust and for what? Honor?

What is honor compared to lunch?