Use of the Feet: In the carriage of the feet, you should float your toenails a little and step strongly with your heels. In the use of the feet, you should walk as usual, whether the case calls for large, small, quick, or slow strides. Feet that seem to fly, float, or be immobile are, all three, undesirable.
There is something important in this Way called the Yin-Yang Foot, and it is considered essential. The Yin-Yang Foot means never moving just one foot. With Yin-Yang, you step right and left, right and left, whether striking, pulling back, or parrying a blow. I repeat: you should never step with just one foot. You should investigate this thoroughly.

Nidget [corrupted from nithing or niding. The opprobrious term with which the man was anciently branded who refused to come to the royal standard in times of exigency.] A coward, a dastard.

There was one true English word of greater force than them all, now out of all use; it signifieth no more than abject, baseminded, false-hearted, coward, or nidget. Camden.

The word actually comes from an idiot. In the sixteenth century, speakers detached the n from an and moved it to the beginning of the next word, so an idiot became a nidiot and then a nidget

Mesquites have very long thorns, and they grow very low to the ground and very close together. In addition, mesquite thickets are the favored lairs of ticks, no-see-ums, wheel bugs, tarantulas, fire ants, red ants, spiders, and pasty-faced men with chainsaws. Not to mention cactus, jumping-getcha, devil's claw, and other antisocial plants also like thickets.

The wind doesn't ever seem to get into the mesquite thickets, but the humidity does. And the heat. And here's our critter, in his black no-dye tissue-thin batik cotton drawstring drawers and his politically correct black hemp guayabera shirt and his black cordura sandals.

Anyhoo, Bubba and I sat there juggling a can of Deep Woods Off for about twenty minutes before hearing this blood-curdling yodel, and we saw Todd the Revolutionary, black bandanna pulled up bandit-style over his lower face, burst forth from the mesquite in a buzzing gray cloud and sprint for the open driver's door of the Mustang, ululating every step of the way.

We watched him cover the hundred or so feet at a dead sprint, and then Bubba casually reached over and pushed the door closed, causing Young Toddy to ricochet off the closed door and into the dust, much to the delight of the mosquitos.

I waved the car keys at him. I supposed I needed to read the Anarchist Handbook because this was apparently a gross violation of the rules of the game. All five foot, six inches, 130 pounds of halitosis and macrobiotic methane jumped to his feet, struck a bee-yoo-ti-ful tai chi stance, and proclaimed, "It took six LAPD pigs to take me to jail. I'm not afraid of you!"

*snort*

He went to jail.