skel", he snarled
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skel", he snarled
, all the while
keeping his eye
on the hobbits.
"Who you callin'
a 'skel'?", Odo
growled, wiggling his
hairy feet provocatively.
Sipowicz just smiled.
After all, a
chance to beat
up a hobbit
didn't come along
more than once
in a long
long, while. He
sized up the
hobbit and the
range, and drew
a whimsical picture
in his mind
of two men,
before he noticed
that he had
lost all of
his vital humours.
This was embarrassing,
but strangely not
because of any
puddles of humours
, though it certainly
wasn't his proudest
moment. Temporarily humourless,
Sipowicz pointed a
shaky finger at
the foul Proudfoot
, Steeler Nation, and
assorted other mopes
before him. "You
think you can
just take a
man's four bodily
humours without his
express written consent?!!"
The Sister Wives
, who had quietly
started a radio
broadcast of the
events that day,
looked up nervously.