The Splendid Professor Filchbottle

Old Bean
By Jones
On March 2nd, 1914, my life was changed forever. I was taking a walk along Baker Street in order that I might reach my office uptown. Normally, I would have driven but I had been quite angry with my driver, who could never seem to figure out how to take a bloody right turn without making me spill whatever tasty elixir I was sipping on that particular day. Good help is so very difficult to find, isn't it?

I felt that I was making poor time, and so decided to take a shortcut. I felt I could chance a walk under the Bainsbourough Bridge. I had never walked under that particular structure before because I had heard it was haunted by a cadre of ill-proportioned ghosts (call me superstitious). But anything would be more desirable than having to listen to the pleas of that wretched vagabond in front of Dr. Monroe's penny candy shoppe. That creature always makes manages to make me queasy, and there is a limit to how much change a gentleman can heave into the gutter to distract a person.

I reached the bridge, and made the sign of the seven-pointed-star across my chest with my left hand. This was supposed to create a ward against spiritual assault, but as you will see, it proved wretchedly innefective. As I entered I spotted a pile of refuse sitting near one of the bridge support struts. Coming closer, and I saw that this was no pile of refuse, but a disgusting individual who saw fit to clothe himself in rags (a disgusting habit to say the least). I cursed aloud, but then realized my manners and excused my rash behavior.

As the filthy tramp saw me approach, he managed pulled his obviously inebriated self groggily onto his feet, and made a show of stumbling towards me. Needless to say, I was mortified at the notion of this filthy thing coming anywhere near my personage, so I did what any self respecting gentleman would have done, I took out my firearm, and gave the old chap a sound pistolthrashing. As the despicable miscreant fell to the ground, I caught sight of a small paper which had landed on the pavement. The good fellow had left me a crisp federal reserve note as a going away present!

And so, friends I leave you with the moral of the story, which had been written upon the note:

"To each his own. A loving family is all a man needs to be successful in life. Stay green."