"No man alive or dead can keep me from being a gentleman! Not one!"
I waited for a response, but instead I was treated to an echoed thump, most likely the sound of my former-nemesis's body hitting the ground floor. I had done it, I had once again saved the day! The woman in my arms must have been happy for me as well, as she was kicking furiously trying to get down, presumably to better embrace her hero.
So that was my morning. Pretty predictable I suppose, but exciting nonetheless. Although for those people reading this, you may be curious as to what fantastical series of events led to this exciting conclusion. Well folks, to tell the complete truth, I don't know either. I woke up that way.
It was all really bizarre at first, as I woke from my slumber and found a dastardly-looking fellow plummeting down a cliff and a distressed woman flailing in my arms. I was already suited in my suit, bow-tie and top-hat, and my mustache seemed to have already been groomed. What was I supposed to think? I just played along and did what I would normally do in a situation like that - yell at the dead guy and look good doing it.
Of course after the bizarre incident, I tried questioning the woman regarding the events that took place up until that climactic point, but she seemed rather occupied with her distressing and confusing position, mostly focused on beating me with her precious little fists. It was more or less at this point I realized that perhaps she wasn't as charmed by my rugged handsomeness as I had originally assumed,
I set the lass down gently, as to not let her frail body go plummeting down the cliff to join her dead kidnapper. She didn't seem to share the same thought process however, as she hurled herself off the cliff like a brain-damaged chicklet, flapping her arms and shouting.
"I'm coming baby! Hold o-"
Her frantic screaming was rudely interrupted by the sound of her own bones shattering as she hit the bottom, a few feet away from the other nicely dressed corpse. There had to be more to all this than meets the eye, so I decided to investigate. I reached into my top-hat to find a conveniently coiled rope and hook nestled on my morning head of hair.
One agonizingly long set-up later, I had fashioned myself a zipline and started walking down the side of the cliff, careful not to dirty my favorite bowtie. Soon I found my black leather shoes had touched the bottom, and I turned around to take a look at the bodies.
The man I presumed to be some sort of dastardly villain was suspiciously well-dressed, aside from the blood stains of course. He donned a lovely looking black tuxedo, with what was either a rose or his kidney poking out from one of his pockets. The woman also seemed suspiciously un-damsel like, as she was wearing a poofy white dress. Further inspection of the woman's outfit revealed several other things, amongst them was something old, something new, something that may have been blue at one point, and something I presume was borrowed, but that last one was mere speculation on my part.
Then it all started to come together for me. They were a newly wed couple! This explained a lot for me, because I recall my own wedding ending in disaster due to the nefarious plot of an old nemesis, Sir Isaac Cottonwood. (That is a story for another day, and one I'll most likely delve into sometime in the future) Since that day though, I have always hated husbands in married couples, and developed an unconcious habit of sweeping brides off their feet to keep them away from marriage.
P.S. Since I'm a gentleman, I will still say I regret the death of the wife, but the husband probably had it coming.
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