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

to me friends, Oye am, but you’se can calls me ‘Miss Froust’.”
    “Why, of course , ‘ Miss Froust’! My word, certainly, I say!”
    “Come on, Icksi, we ain’t gotta stand ’ere an’ takes no guff from dis ’ere pwivileged princess. Oye gots plans for you, lovie.”
    “Hunh?”
    “My word!”
    “Oye knows wotz me wittle Icksi likes, don’t Oye, love, eh? You’se likes it when Oye tickles you loikes dis!”
    “Tee,hee,hee,hee,hee,hee,hee!”
    “My word!”
    “An’ when Oye tickle wickle you’se loike dis!”
    “Tee,hee,hee,hee,hee,hee,hee!”
    “Mr. Temperance!”
    “An’ when Oye gives you a nice big smacker loikes dis.”
    -Sah-Moooooooo-Chah!-
    “Oh! Gracious! My word! Well! Well! Well! Well, come here Kit!”
    Saaaah-
    MO O O O O-
    OO O O O O O O O-
    OO O O O O O O O-
    OO O O O O O O O-
    OO O O O O O O O-
    chah!!!
     
     

Chapter Twelve:
The Luck of the Irishman
    P.O.V. Constable Joshua O’Hagan
     
    I ken see bye thaeyre gloomy pusses that no one raeturns with good tidings.
    “Aye, me fair lassie, Persephone, what news does ye bring me?”
    “Oh, Officer O’Hagan, I say, Kit and I searched most assiduously for a ship to bear us to this mysterious island of San Monique, but none gave any indication of having heard of this locality.”
    “Persephone is quite correct in this. I foresee some difficulty in gaining passage to this unknown hideaway.”
    “Thank ye, Eppington. What aboot you, Ickety?”
    “Nary a drop of information could I squeeze from these seaside barnacles. Not only does nobody know where this island is, but they immediately clam up and become more unfriendly than cocklebur underwear at the merest mention of that ill-omened locale.”
    “Aye, tis’ the same with me. Even all this distance froom L.A., I can’t shake the aura o’ ‘copper’ from me paersonage. That’s a big strike out for aulle pairties involved, eh? That is, oonless ye’ ’ave soomethin’ to add, lassie.”
    “Eh, wot? Who? Me? Oye’m sure Oye could not possibly ’ave succeeded where all you fine an’ upstanding peoples ’ave exercised your impwessive skills, intewect, an’ wesourcefulness. Nope, nuttin’ for me to even bodduh wiff twyin’, weally, ’cept, … ol’ blind Tom came ‘round te’ tells me how’s there’s been some fancied up dude inna silver threaded vest escorting some snot nosed hoighty toighty piss-mop around asking ’bout ‘The Oisland o’ San Monique’. The snoot bags were wantin’ to books passage te’ the cursed place, see, but everyone ’round ’ere knows not to mention this horrid location. Then, it wasn’t long aftuh dat when deh pwecocious wittle scamp, Wukey Pwiscus, comes ’round to tells me ’ow dere’s been a tough little Irishman stomping aboot, tryin’s his ‘Oh, Oye’m naughtte a copper, wea-wy, you ken troost me’ woutine, but the fella woz so stupefyingly stench ridden with the odour of policocity, that even the most gullible of tiny children would run in terruh from the brutish authority. Oye also had several weports o’ a sweet young Alabama boy politely making inquiries. Then Oye had several contacts from dis area’s supernatural and occult quarters come to tells me that there is bad juju in the air. Oye should lay low while these nosy busybodies, these magnets of doom and ’ellish twoubles were dealt wiff by VooDoo assassination squads to be dispatched at sundown. Uvvuh than that, Oye fails to see how Oye could be of any helps.”
    “Gee willikers, it sounds like you did pretty good there, Miss Mimi Ma’am, uncoverin’ all kinds of useful information!”
    “Aye! Well doone lass!”
    “My word, I must admit so, especially that troublesome news, but useful report on some sort of VooDoo assassination squad, eh, hem?”
    “Oye was just kiddin’ about dat part, you stuffed skurht, but then again, you nevvuh know.”
    “Aye, Mimi me lass, what course do you advise us to take?”
    “Oye knows uvvah powerful VooDoo mystic