Foulfellow:
So, Coachman, what's your proposition?
The Coachman:
Well
[calmly, smoking his pipe]
The Coachman:
How would you blokes like to make some real money?
[pulls out a big bag of gold pieces, which he drops on the table with a loud clank]
Foulfellow:
[his eyes widen]
Well! And who do we have to...
[makes a throat slashing gesture]
The Coachman:
No, no, no... nothing like that. You see...
[moves his eyes slowly left and right with Foulfellow briefly following suit, then leans in with a slight whisper]
The Coachman:
I'm collecting stupid little boys.
Foulfellow:
Stupid little boys?
The Coachman:
You know... the disobedient ones that are playing hooky from school.
Foulfellow:
Oh...
The Coachman:
So you see...
[leans in and whispers into Foulfellow's ear indistinctly for a while, his sidekick listens in through his opposite ear, then cleans it out with his finger so he can hear it better]
The Coachman:
... and I takes them to Pleasure Island.
Foulfellow:
Ah. Pleasure Island...
[suddenly has a look of horror]
Foulfellow:
Pleasure Island? But the law! Suppose they...
The Coachman:
No, no, no, there's no risk. They never come back... as BOYS!
[his face turns red and morphs to a devil like appearance as he makes with his mouth an large evil grin and a grimace, his eyes bug out and his hair becomes horns with a satan reference. Foulfellow and his sidekick sweat a little as he laughs maniacally, then grabs him by the collar and holds him close]
The Coachman:
Now, I've got a coach leaving at midnight. We meet at the crossroads, and no double crossing!
Foulfellow:
No sir...
The Coachman:
Scout around, and any prospects you find, bring them to me.
Foulfellow:
Yes, boss.
The Coachman:
I'll pay you well, I've got plenty of gold.
Riportata da il
05/03/2025 alle ore 09:37
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