He really knows his shtick

[Wisemon]

I wrestled endlessly with the beast, trying to throw it off, but to no avail. Its claws thrashed my rending flesh and cracked brittle bone. I was beginning to lose confidence, when at last my salvation shone on the horizon. Holiday Break! With each daily step closer it the besetting creature tired. I worked and worked at its sinews of calculus, grabbed a hold of its Othello: The Moor of Venice-ish head, grappled the wildling with gloves of Common Lisp, and at last, with a roar of Mendelian Genetics, smote it upon the ground.

The dawn broke, and the Real Life's blood was spilled upon the soil, drying in my Having to Stay Home from Youth Group.

You're just talking about metaphorical blood, in which case, I got you beat. I literally bled onto my computational mechanics exam. The winter air cut my hand, and I dotted my notebook paper with my blood for symbolism. I wanted to show the professor that I gave everything I had for the course, because I risked failing pending the results of the exam.