Ernest Woodruff pounded his fist onto his redwood desk. “Find him; give him the Broderick and then bring his battered body to me so I can lay eyes on that hatchet man’s mug before I bash it in!”
Wherefore should I / Stand in the plague of custome, and permit / The curiosity of Nations, to deprive me? For that I am some twelve, or fourteen Moonshines / Lag of a Brother? Why Bastard? Wherefore base? / When my Dimensions are as well compact, My minde as generous, and my shape as true / As honest madams issue? Why brand they us / With Base? With basenes Bastardie? Base, Base?
I charge thee therefore before God, and the Lord Ieſus Chriſt, who ſhall iudge the quicke and the dead at his appearing, and his kingdome:
Ollie held the boot with one hand and smeared the sticky fuck juices with his other over the boot.
