275

Mr. McGuire finally presented himself to me for his execution as I woke, and strangling him was as far as I went.  Had I consumed his blood, I’m certain I’d be reeking of bubble and squeak while staggering about Collins Hall like the Eel on Twelfth Night.

Overall, however, despite the impropriety of Young Loomis delivering the Irish Irritant to me as I slept, there was an elegant convenience to the matter, and snapping the reprobate’s neck was singular delight.

BC

Advertisements

Leave a Comment ↓

No comments yet.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Chapters


%d bloggers like this: