Ask the janitor to come and change the lightbulb. After a brisk walk, I washed up and changed my shirt.
“Ah'm gawn to tear yore skin off with this here whip,” came the guttural voice from behind him. “Then ah'm gawn to rub salt in the cuts an' leave you hyar on the floor.”
‘Which fellows?’ Very loud now, but a tightening in her weasand.
All the doctor has to do nowadays is to read the labels on the bottles and boxes of samples the faker brings him.
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