Don: You’ve probably got this. Just throw him some doe eyes and speak really vaguely about how your ex-husband died of “thirst” and lounge around waiting for the right moment, and you can take him. Just catch him unawares and slap him square in the face. He might enjoy it though. Also, don’t let him pull the ol’ hand-in-the-vagina trick he pulled on Bobbi Barrett.
Peggy: She’s scrappy and she’s relentless, so be careful here. She will drag you down to her level and whale on you with sass and possibly a knife tied to a broom stick. Even if you win, you’ll never hear the end of her complaining about it.
Roger: You can beat Roger. He’s not going to give it his all, he’ll be too focused on trying to throttle you with charm. Hand him a vodka with 1 ice cube and then pummel him in his snow-capped head. But play clean, okay? Don’t hit him with a sneak attack, the man has a heart condition.
Pete: Are you Lane Pryce? Then you will surely win the day. Put up some old-fashioned fisticuffs and let Pete tire himself out. Take the high road and then finish him with a well-placed blow to that sad smirk of his. Are you the headmaster of a fancy, ancient boarding school? If so, maybe lay off.
Trudy: SHE WILL DESTROY YOU.
Ken: With Ken, your odds are about 50–50. Ken’s got fast feet and he will tap dance all over you if you let him. Get in there and hit him where it hurts: insult his fiction, or pretend not to get it. Be warned, though: Ken can sustain many, many injuries before he tires out or gives up.
Harry: You can beat Harry, and you should. In fact, you should get to it right now before anybody else does.
Megan: Megan is willowy and sensitive, but she’s not afraid to strip down or throw a plate at the wall to distract you. And don’t think for a second that pulling her hair is gonna help you. She’s wearing a fall, it’ll come right out in your hands and then she’ll clobber you. Try dragging her down by her jewelry or by snatching her Twiggy eyelashes.
Betty: When it comes to blows, you will beat Betty. Handily. But then she’ll skulk around your house in a shirtwaist dress for seven years, smoking, drinking wine, and going through your pockets. She’ll berate your children, threaten to cut their fingers off, fire their beloved nanny, and shoot at your pigeons. In the end, she will win. It will be a death by a thousand cuts.
Joan: Don’t fight Joan. Don’t. Fight. Joan. Hell, don’t even say a cruel word to Joan, she’s pissed already. She’s looking for an excuse to take out her claws at every moment and if you provoke her, she will knock you out cold with a flower pot to the head, meet with the head of Sugarberry Ham, get you fired, and then show up on your doorstep to tell you she can’t wait until next year, when you’re in Vietnam, and when you’re over there and they’re shooting at you, and you’re pining for the days when somebody was just trying to make your life easier, remember you’re not over there fighting for her, because she never liked you.
Originally published at erikadprice.tumblr.com.