Movement In Four Parts
Shot-Through-The-Guts had been shot through the guts. "Tsk tsk," said Portly Pantaloons, packing his pipe. "Serves him right!" growled Razormouth, having done it. "Might...die..." gasped Shot-Through-The-Guts. "Tsk tsk," scolded Portly Pantaloons, with his habitual air of mild disapproval. "He woulda stole my teeth with a monkey wrench!" complained Razormouth, who hated the dentist's smock that Shot-Through-The-Guts liked to wear. "It's worn ironically," groaned Shot-Through-The Guts, as a crimson stain spread across his dentist's smock. "I think it's vulgar!" cried Mrs. Portly Pantaloons indignantly. Razormouth said nothing, but clicked his teeth together menacingly. "Where will you go," inquired Portly Pantaloons, gesturing with his pipe, "if you, eh, pass on, as it were?" "Straight to hell!" interjected Razormouth, dancing from foot to foot. At that moment, a host
