[Puke]

floor is mine? how in the name of bleeding fornication am i supposed to armor a miniature pickle? im lucky enough there were swizzlesticks about to equip them with in the first place!

*Puke scribbles down a note on a bar napkin, and whistles for one of his surviving pigs-foot mounted gherkin cavalry. Impaling the note onto the gherkin's swizzlestick, puke slaps the pigs-foot on its... foot... and sends it running out the door.

*Several minutes later, a crate full of Jalapenos en Escabeche from a nearby Mexican eatery arive by courier. The gherkins, whom have just finished stitching their dead and dismembered back together, fall upon the Escabechefied Jalepenos with savage furosity, flaying them alive and ripping out their litte vegitative guts. The hides of the Jalapenos are fashioned into armored coats for the gherkins and their pickled mounts, so that anyone tempted to take a chomp at one might be in for a burning supprise*

Well, that should at least stall the enemy until I can get a more potent special delivery from the great Tesco. How to fashion this bunch of brine soaked veggies into Janissaries, im not quite sure. But while the GeesKat are reading them selves to be butchered by the Cataphractoid Mongeeses, I can send these reconstituted gherkins out to flank Stratigan in the event that he should attempt any further usurpious narativery upon them.

Until then, I'll be hideing from the spelling and grammar police.