and I told him I was not the coat check girl
he asked to speak to the manager
and huffed when I explained that that
was what I waited for also
just then I saw the maitre d’ and waved
he walked over warily and winced at us
then asked what we wanted and shuddered
no, he could not produce the manager
who was busy satisfying a beautiful woman
but if we’d return the following afternoon
surely someone could provide us satisfaction
we agreed to return at two and did
and found the whole restaurant gone
right down to the foundation
and a boy waiting for us with a box
containing matched flintlock pistols
already loaded and primed
all we needed do was march off ten paces apiece
then turn and fire, surely whichever still lived
would have his satisfaction
the penguin declined for lack of a thumb
which meant I won by default, I suppose
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