Dudley McDeadly was heavily armed
with most tastefully-chosen arrays
of light-armament, firearms,
bludgeons and blades, and a bomb
he was saving for later. He turned
with aplomb towards the future
where you, invincibly charmed
by his tall dark and handsomeness,
twirling mustache, and his striking,
unfashionable stovepipelike hat,
had consented to being tied down
on the tracks.
There was some small to-do, as you
quibbled a bit at the tightness of knot
binding ankle or wrist, and indeed
over whether it's fitting or fit
to lie trussed on your stomach,
and not on your back. But that Dudley
McDeadly has his own ideas, and hasn't
a lack. He makes his own plans, and
he plays his own hand. Which you, for
some reason, decided to take. As you say,
you're a fool for an ol'
-fashioned man.
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