Top Dog

Ah, being male brings with it great struggles for power and dominance. Sure, it helps if you're six foot something, and 90 kilos, but even us little folk indulge in the fight for being Top Dog.

See picture below, on previous post. This is whom my fight for Top Dog position usually occurs with, PC. What do we fight for? Sadly, the cool things aren't really acceptable in our society anymore. We can't go at each other for the right to mate with the most desired female, because then most desired female would turn her nose at both of us, and go off with the sweet sensitive underdog. We can't fight for territory, because we don't really have any, and we can't fight for status and respect, because we already have that. Well, we did, that is, before you started reading this post.

Because this is what we fight for. The right to play with assorted objects, ranging from stress-busters (the things you sqeeze in your hand), to assorted soft toys/shiny things/generally Archies Gallery Nonsense brought by our female friends to school.
The fights themselves are spectucular displays. We both grab onto required object, get a decent grip, and then start yelling Nyah! Nyah! at each other, till one of us gives up, or looses grip. Winner gets the spoils for all of five minutes, after which, this process will repeat, and the chap who lost the last time will inevitably win the next. This will be followed by further Nyahing, and will end up in more simple grunts.

See what we poor menfolk of the 21st century have to resort to. Ah, for the times where you could bonk each other on the heads with large battering clubs. Where have those golden days gone?