Cackling Barnaby finds himself constrained by a thicket of bone
imprevious to kicks, gnawing, imprecations, and the fine sharp teeth
of his sailor's knife. He snaps the blade back inside the ivory handles
and opens the bargaining:
'If you release me, I shall bring you a plum cake
at cockcrow for a year and a day.'
'Eff off,' responds the Countess.
'Release me and I shall grant you the power
to transform regrets into splendid trousers.'
The Countess picks at a wart and says nothing.
Barnaby tears at his beard.
'Very well! If you release me, all your rivals
will henceforth have a bum for a mouth
and a mouth for a bum!'
his last words drowned out
as the Countess stands,
starting the chainsaw.
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