“You and your silly bitch better give me fifty feet before both y'all corny asses get slam dunked in that pool.”

The information made its way up the chain of command to the general.

From the inn she is taken to the house of the procuress, divested of her home-spun garb, and dressed in the gayest style of the day; her pincushion and scissars discarded for an etwee and watch, and the tender native hue of her complexion incrusted with paint, and disguised by patches.

Those who expected everyone to have an egg in his beer right after inauguration day are visibly disappointed.