He was never in one spot for more than half a second, all my punches were aimed and timed properly but they always wound up hitting empty air. He'd jump in and out, slamming me with a left and whirling me around with his right or the other way around. My arms were plastered with leather and although I jabbed, hooked and crossed, it was like fighting an octopus.
The familythat dear octopus from whose tentacles we never quite escape.
C++: an octopus made by nailing extra legs onto a dog.
Hey, hey! Over here! Eat lead, you outer space octopus!