Free The Measure of Temperance (The Adventures of Ichabod Temperance Book 6) by Ichabod Temperance

skull with a blunt instrument, that being his great bloody fist, and yae’re being doomped by the lovely Persephone Plumtartt, I say there’s only one thing you an’ I can do.”
    “What’s that, sir?”
    “Git bloody droonk as a Scotsman!”
    “Yessir! Oops! I mean, Aye!”
     
    ---
    “Anubber bar, Othifer O’Hagoo?”
    “A, -hick!- a, -hick!- a, aye!”
    “Wazza nama dis wun?”
    “‘The Dew Drop Out’.”
    “Sounz lika winner. Lezgo.”
    “It’s a dimly lit urban cave we enter, Ickety. Joost a few candles burning in red tinted glass holders saerve for illumination.”
    “Dang, it sure is hazy with smoke in here.”
    “Aye, I have’s tae waves the soooty autmoospheres baefore me tae makes me way through the choking, murky, morass. The clingy miasma presents a palpable resistance to me forward progress.”
    “Yessir, but ain’t it funny how there is always the same omnipresent smell of old nicotine and ancient, beer-soaked carpets to welcome you to a dive like this wherever you go?”
    “Aye, ’tis a comfort of sorts, I suppose.”
    “Whattayahave, boys?”
    “Ah, Barkeep, bless ye me lad. I’ll bee enjoying a ’dublin Dragon Dowser’, and me green-gilled mate would like you to serve him up a nice moog o’ ‘Mississippi Mudde’; dry, shaken, not churned.”
    “I’m not familiar with those, sir, how about I just sell you this bottle of whiskey and you two can both obliviate yourselves in the comfort of a boothed table.”
    “Aye, a capital plan, laddie! Ah, here we are. Settle in there, Ickety. Now then, my lumpy head is still achin, so’s I propose a toast to me boomped gnoggin.”
    “Shalloot.”
    “Ah, thanky lad.”
    “Here’s to Pip Kittington. May he make Miss Plumtartt happy, where I was such a miserable failure.”
    “Sahlute.”
    “Toast me gloorious goose egg sproutin’ off me forehead.”
    “Aleut.”
    “Lez toaze deh hap-hap-happy couple.”
    “Sally’s lute.”
    ““Lessh toaze ...”
    “Excuse mee Ickety. I must go an’ visit the little Irish copper’s room.”
    “Is datta euphemism?”
    “No, I’ll be back innae minute if I can find the facilities and then me way back again.”
    “Good luck, Occifer.”
    “Dang ol’ handsome and charming Kit Eppington. Waz he got I ain’t got? Cept, bein’ all tall, dark, and handsome? Impeccable manners, a sparkling personality and adept at charming, glib conversation? An impressive physique, brutally intelligent, and an easy, effortless suavibility? Except for all that, I could be as good as him. Dang, this drinkin’ stuff ain’t really helpin’ none. I wonder what’s a feller traditionally done to make himself feel better after something like this?”
    “allo, sailuh. Evuh done duty onna heavy cruiser?”
    “Wowza! Uhbuh, I means, wow-wee! No ma’am, I ain’t.”
    “Would you like to?”
    “Hunh?”
    “Boiys me a dwink, sailuh-boy.”
    “Yes, Ma’am, but I ain’t really a sailor.”
    “All me boys is sailuhs, see?”
    “Yes, Ma’am.”
    “Wot does ye say, sailuh-boy, goin’ to buy me dat dwink?”
    “How’s ‘bout a slug offa da bottle?”
    “Good enough, wuvver.” - swig -
    “Dang, yer a pretty lady. All of you is really fine. I am suitably impressed with your bounteous charms that threaten to overflow your shiny, red and black vertical striped dress with festive, feathery, highlights and flouncy, friendly fringe. I sure do like the sparkly and flouncy fashions you dance hall gals come up with. Funny thing though, you ain’t gotta Texas accent, Ma’am.”
    “That’s roight, sailuh-boy, Oye’m still’a London East End gel, even if fortune has tossed me upon these unforgiving Colonial shores.”
    “Gee whiz, you’re a right friendly gal, ain’t ya? You sure do like to snuggle in tight, in this here bar booth, Ma’am.”
    “That’s roight, it’s onna counta me loikin’ you, little sailuh boy.”
    “I, I, I guess maybe I have been a little lonely lately.”
    “None o’ that now,