The felon that was holding Dobbers hostage had given me a day before meeting him. He seemed to think that he and I had unfinished business.
He was obviously mistaken as I made sure to finish all of my business, wether it were wiping my penis on a cut lemon after some rum-pumply or organising a new trade route with a merchant.
I made sure to have a good night's sleep and the next day I casually went about a few errands.
I met up with my good fellows, Rory and Anulus. Over a bottle of rum or two we discussed the matters of the day.
Anulus told us of his new lady who was quite unused to the girth of his gargantuan walloper.
Soak an oar handle in two parts brine one part vinegar and tell her to practice on herself prior to a dalliance with your walloper.
I wisely advised.
Hot shit in a cup, Boomy. Will that really work and loosen the pork drapes, as it were?
Anulus looked incredulous yet also hopeful.
Probably not, old fellow but it will surely improve the smell?
We laughed, slamming our empty glasses down and crying out to the waiter for more.
Two bottles later I bade them a temporary farewell and sashayed out into the midday sun.
I popped into a little tobacconist I was fond of.
The fellow in charge reached under the small counter and silently passed me a package I had previously ordered.
I tipped my hat to him, took it and left.
It was my tailor's next. Inside, I was greeted warmly by the Master Tailor himself, an old friend. We went back a ways he and I.
In no time he had my new suit on me and was fussing around pinching and tugging on parts of me as if he were a fresh wife yet to be jaded by daily dousings in jizzum.
I think that's as best as I can manage, Boomy, old chap.
He said apologetically as he stepped back.
I examined myself in the mirror. It was a fine suit indeed. It looked perfectly normal.
And the yellow handkerchief?
The Tailor pulled forth a dull metallic box. It was a slender thing but somehow radiated menace.
With a small pair of tongs, he removed a Canary yellow handkerchief from within and tucked it carefully into my breast pocket.
I nodded.
Thank you, old fellow. Send the bill to the usual place.
I smiled then, a cold thing.
I had one last errand to run.
Much later, in the club, I stood stiffly as the waiter announced the arrival of Jessique.
She broke into a short run as she saw me. Throwing her arms around my neck and pushing herself against me.
I held her gently, more fondly than I have held most women despite only knowing her such a terribly short time.
I pulled back from her embrace and checked my timepiece.
My darling, I wish we had time for dinner but alas. Our date awaits.
I said solemnly.
Jessique looked at me pleadingly.
We don't have to go? We could run away, you and I. In fact we must. Whoever this man is, I fear he means to kill you. Please, Boomy, don't go!?
Her pleas were heartfelt, in fact, for the briefest of moments I paused.
Then I half smiled, half snarled.
No. I must go and you, my darling, must come with me.
I said firmly.
Jessique gasped
Me? Come with you? Then you must have a plan, you must!
Again I smiled and took her arm.
Oh, my darling...
