A barbarian was walking through the woods, down a hill, to a sunny meadow for a brief repast when she chanced upon a down-on-his-luck berry.
Conjuring her gentlest snarl, she asked the berry how he was feeling.
The berry looked up at her, spied her braided red hair falling down her sides astride her sword and two-edged axe, feet planted apart ever-ready to react in an instant with thrust or parry, and said, "I'm just not going to even say it."
Some conversations seem not worth having.