It was a dark and stormy night. There was one flash of light. My opponent fell mortally wounded to the ground. I retired to the inn to partake of some liquid refreshment, <glug glug glug glug glug> when a stranger walked in.

“You look tired,” says he.

“Tired?” says I.

“Yes, tired,” says he.

“Well, I am tired,” says I, “for I have just killed a man.”

“Killed a man!” says he.

“Yes, killed a man,” says I.

“What was his name?” says he.

“His name?” says I.

“Yes, his name,” says he.

“Zinzendorf,” says I.

“Zinzendorf!” says he.

“Yes, Zinzendorf,” says I.

“Then we must duel,” says he, “for that man was my brother!”

It was a dark and stormy night…

My father used to say this. I have no clue what it’s about, or where it might be from. I’ve searched the Interned, but found nothing, except this Wikipedia article about Count Zinzendorf, which seems to have nothing to do with this. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nicolaus_Zinzendorf

If anyone has a clue, please let me know!