One of these days I may start playing with one as well, I think Sean O' Glaigh would be a good pen name, don't you?
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Indeed. Don't forget to use a picture of Brad Pitt on the inside rear of the dust cover, where the bio goes.Originally posted by shawng1
One of these days I may start playing with one as well, I think Sean O' Glaigh would be a good pen name, don't you?
Hey, if pictures of Robert Jordan don't scare off readers, the bio picture can't be THAT important.
Or Stephen King...Originally posted by shawng1
Hey, if pictures of Robert Jordan don't scare off readers, the bio picture can't be THAT important.
Great posts shawng1 (and MrT)!
I especially like the bit about the chess matches!
LT
I especially like the bit about the chess matches!
LT
Lt Tyler,
Thanks again. As soon as Adolf gives his demented version of events, we shall proceed.
Thanks again. As soon as Adolf gives his demented version of events, we shall proceed.
The Last Chess Game
Sorry for taking so long, shawng1 (and folks)...just had to do a bit of a re-write. Wasn't sure that I was being demented enough,
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It was early evening when a knock on the study door interrupted his latest round of private raging. The most recent communication from Arch Duke Friedrich still lay on the floor where he had thrown it in disgust; and Adolf paced back and forth behind his desk, mind whirling at the implications of the Emperor’s message, and wondering which new traitor had emerged. First Munster, then Oldenburg, now…now who?
He would have Mathijs track the man down and put an end to his sorry existence. In these increasingly troubling times, the High Councillor was the only one left in whom he felt any measure of trust; though even this was being slowly eroded, for the man’s attitude had most certainly changed in the past half year or so.
It had started with those damn chess games. When was that? Ah yes. New Year’s Day. For the first time in many, many years, Mathijs had actually seen an opening and pounced on it. Adolf had been delighted at the skill with which he had played, allowing the High Councillor to shred his defences and trap his king. The next evening, they had played again.
Adolf was tempted to tell him that he had intentionally lost the previous night’s game, but instead he resolved to thrash Duke quite badly instead, to prove his superiority and teach him a lesson…which was all very well to say, but suddenly surprisingly difficult to achieve. Every attack, however strong or however subtle, had been repulsed; and suddenly he had found himself on the defensive. All too soon he had been forced to sacrifice a rook in order to save his queen, and then he was trapped in a razor with Mathijs’ bishops controlling the board and his queen slowly eating up his defences, one by one. Eventually Adolf had been forced to concede defeat.
Humiliated, he had demanded a second game…and then a third… After a week of losing game after game – unable, even, to draw to a stalemate – he had realised that Mathijs had undergone not only a change in his mastery of the board, but there were also some subtle changes to his mannerisms. He had seemed, somehow, more reserved and perhaps even slightly defiant – although none of this had been overt, and it certainly did not effect the High Councillor’s zeal or efficiency in tracking down the traitors and exacting revenge.
There was something, though…something that had been niggling away in the back of his mind for some time, but would never quite come to the forefront of his consciousness. Something that…
The knock repeated itself. More insistent. Louder.
“Come.”
The door opened to reveal the familiar form of the High Councillor, accompanied by three men. The middle-aged man with the broad shoulders and claymore on his hip was known to him as none other than Mathijs’ bodyguard Eric, reputed to be one of the fiercest fighters and most persistent bloodhounds in the country.
The stooped and ancient one he had only heard of, and never met. A houseguest of the High Councillor’s, it was amazing that he was still alive at this advanced an age - although as the four men entered the room and the door was closed, Adolf could tell that he had once been strong and broad-shouldered himself. Suddenly he made the connection. It must be Eric’s father…or perhaps even grandfather. He searched his memory to recall the man’s name, but was rewarded with nothing. Perhaps he had never heard it.
The fourth man he had never seen before. He seemed…different. He was dressed in a strange sort of fashion; one that suggested that he was not from Gelre, but perhaps was a damned Englishman or a native of one or another of the isles. The fabric of his robes was opulent, though, and he wore several gem-encrusted rings that signified significant wealth. More than this, he couldn’t tell, for the man only took a couple of steps into the room before coming to a halt and looking expectantly toward the High Councillor’s back as he strode to stand in front of the desk.
“Well Mathijs. Whom do We have the pleasure of meeting, and to what do We owe the occasion? We are rather busy right now, as you can see, and We were not aware that you had scheduled anything for this evening.”
Belatedly he realized that Friedrich’s letter still lay on the floor, the Holy Roman Emperor’s seal easily visible, and he quickly stooped to pick it up and began to roll it up once more.
“Your Grace, I have the great pleasure of finally introducing you to my dearest friend, the Count Sean O’Glaigh of Tuscany. His son, Eric, you know already. And our companion this evening is none other than my daughter’s father-in-law, the renowned Duke of Bedford.”
“Bedford!” A damned Englishman indeed.
“Yes, your Grace. Bedford. We have come to play chess with you, one last time.”
“We have no time for chess, nor would We wish an audience for it. What is your mission here, Duke of Bedford?”
“I am here on behalf of my liege Edward, by Grace of God King of England. Thus saith my King: ‘Adolf, Duke of Gelre by murder and deception, blight to your people and pariah to your master’ – who’s letter of contempt you hold, even now, in your hand I believe. My king saith that ‘if, by the dusk of two days hence, you have not abdicated your rule and reinstated your father - the noble and worthy Arnold van Doesberg - to the throne of Gelre, then the good people of England will have no choice but to declare war upon your nation.’ Those, I assure you, were his words.”
“He wouldn’t dare!”
“Ah, but he would. Even now, scores of ships and thousands of men lie off the coast of Flandern, poised to invade in great force. Your troops are elsewhere and not even remotely strong enough to oppose our overwhelming numbers. We would face little challenge anyway, as many of your own counts and barons are already sympathetic to our just and noble cause – as, for that matter, are most of the Royal houses of Europe. My King has assured them that he seeks only to remove a traitor from his ill-gotten throne, and has no desire to lay waste to Gelre’s people or lands if they, in turn, do not oppose his passage or his mission.”
“That’s a lie! The nobles fully support me; and any snivelling traitor who dares defy me will feel the sharp steel of my dagger as it pierces, first his eyes, then his mouth, and lastly as I ram it home in his chest. It will be a painful death, akin to the agony I inflicted on that traitorous Duke of Oldenburg. One, indeed, that I am sorely tempted to inflict on you, for your foul and treacherous words in my presence.”
At these words, Eric’s claymore slid from its sheath as he interposed himself between the two Dukes.
“What! You as well? Mathijs, in God’s name control your dog.”
“He acts on my orders, Adolf, and he will not stand down and allow you to dishonour our nation with the foul murder of an ambassador.”
“Ambassador. You call that message an embassy? I call it a threat and an insult, and I will not tolerate either.”
“It is an embassy of truth.”
“Truth? You know the truth. You have heard my thoughts, you know my mind on this. You know that my father was intending to bend his knee in fealty to King Henry of England, to swear willing vassalage to him.”
“I know nothing of the sort. In fact, although Henry made several overtures to that effect, Arnold would never have accepted them. He wrote to Henry to tell him exactly that.”
“Ha! But that message was never delivered. It was a blind, to put me off the scent. But I saw through his schemes. I knew of the other letter…the one that accepted the offer.”
“There was no such letter.”
“So you say. Though I could never manage to capture his courier, I knew what he was up to. It was simple, how I betrayed him to the Emperor. I manufactured the evidence I could never capture…it’s all the same, really, since I know he was betraying him…and with the Emperor’s money and blessing, I took his throne. I did it for the people.”
“You did it for yourself. Arnold never conceived of any such plan, nor were there ‘secret messages’ passing back and forth between Gelre and England. All you did was play on people’s fears with your own fears, and spread lies and deceit along with your coin. When their fear and support was sufficient that they would not oppose you, you betrayed your father. Where now is the renewed and improved relationship with the Emperor that you said was the goal? Is it in that letter? Please tell. Or is it rather a condemnation of your tyranny?”
“Tyranny! I’ll show him tyranny. I haven’t yet begun to flex my muscle yet. I will tear down all those who even hint at treachery. I will confiscate their lands, and I slaughter their families. In very short time, I will root out every enemy from every corner of the land. These English? I will kill them to a man. Then I will sail across the sea, at the head of my invincible army, and crush this ‘Edward, King of England by Grace of God’. Let the crows feast on their bodies, for I will never relent in my righteousness! After that, I will sew the fields with salt and let the people starve to death, to their ruin. The Emperor, too, will soon feel my wrath.”
“Adolf. You are mad!”
“Mad? Oh…I see it now. I see it all. You have always been the traitor, haven’t you; standing close by my side so you might know my every plan, hear my every word, read my every dispatch. It was you who stood by me when I betrayed my father, captured and imprisoned him. It was you who urged me to let him live. Well, my dear Mathijs, there are things you don’t know.”
“There is little that I don’t know.”
“HA! You don’t know how I smothered my child - my heir - in his crib, pressing the pillow over his face until he grew limp.”
“My God!...”
“You don’t know how I pushed my dear Catherine’s head oh so slowly under the water of her bath. You don’t know how she struggled…flailing away so helplessly until she had swallowed enough water. You don’t know how I enjoyed smashing her head against the side of the tub, seeing the blood pour from the wound. Everyone thought she had slipped and fallen. HA! You don’t know the bloody first thing about anything, and further, I’ll see that YOU DIE FOR IT!”
Even as Adolf began to draw his sword, Eric was moving towards him with his claymore and the door to the study burst open to reveal a corridor filled with nobles. The ancient man, silent all this time, said a single word before the mayhem began…a word that, for some reason, Adolf heard through the pounding blood rage in his head.
“Checkmate.”
Sorry for taking so long, shawng1 (and folks)...just had to do a bit of a re-write. Wasn't sure that I was being demented enough,
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It was early evening when a knock on the study door interrupted his latest round of private raging. The most recent communication from Arch Duke Friedrich still lay on the floor where he had thrown it in disgust; and Adolf paced back and forth behind his desk, mind whirling at the implications of the Emperor’s message, and wondering which new traitor had emerged. First Munster, then Oldenburg, now…now who?
He would have Mathijs track the man down and put an end to his sorry existence. In these increasingly troubling times, the High Councillor was the only one left in whom he felt any measure of trust; though even this was being slowly eroded, for the man’s attitude had most certainly changed in the past half year or so.
It had started with those damn chess games. When was that? Ah yes. New Year’s Day. For the first time in many, many years, Mathijs had actually seen an opening and pounced on it. Adolf had been delighted at the skill with which he had played, allowing the High Councillor to shred his defences and trap his king. The next evening, they had played again.
Adolf was tempted to tell him that he had intentionally lost the previous night’s game, but instead he resolved to thrash Duke quite badly instead, to prove his superiority and teach him a lesson…which was all very well to say, but suddenly surprisingly difficult to achieve. Every attack, however strong or however subtle, had been repulsed; and suddenly he had found himself on the defensive. All too soon he had been forced to sacrifice a rook in order to save his queen, and then he was trapped in a razor with Mathijs’ bishops controlling the board and his queen slowly eating up his defences, one by one. Eventually Adolf had been forced to concede defeat.
Humiliated, he had demanded a second game…and then a third… After a week of losing game after game – unable, even, to draw to a stalemate – he had realised that Mathijs had undergone not only a change in his mastery of the board, but there were also some subtle changes to his mannerisms. He had seemed, somehow, more reserved and perhaps even slightly defiant – although none of this had been overt, and it certainly did not effect the High Councillor’s zeal or efficiency in tracking down the traitors and exacting revenge.
There was something, though…something that had been niggling away in the back of his mind for some time, but would never quite come to the forefront of his consciousness. Something that…
The knock repeated itself. More insistent. Louder.
“Come.”
The door opened to reveal the familiar form of the High Councillor, accompanied by three men. The middle-aged man with the broad shoulders and claymore on his hip was known to him as none other than Mathijs’ bodyguard Eric, reputed to be one of the fiercest fighters and most persistent bloodhounds in the country.
The stooped and ancient one he had only heard of, and never met. A houseguest of the High Councillor’s, it was amazing that he was still alive at this advanced an age - although as the four men entered the room and the door was closed, Adolf could tell that he had once been strong and broad-shouldered himself. Suddenly he made the connection. It must be Eric’s father…or perhaps even grandfather. He searched his memory to recall the man’s name, but was rewarded with nothing. Perhaps he had never heard it.
The fourth man he had never seen before. He seemed…different. He was dressed in a strange sort of fashion; one that suggested that he was not from Gelre, but perhaps was a damned Englishman or a native of one or another of the isles. The fabric of his robes was opulent, though, and he wore several gem-encrusted rings that signified significant wealth. More than this, he couldn’t tell, for the man only took a couple of steps into the room before coming to a halt and looking expectantly toward the High Councillor’s back as he strode to stand in front of the desk.
“Well Mathijs. Whom do We have the pleasure of meeting, and to what do We owe the occasion? We are rather busy right now, as you can see, and We were not aware that you had scheduled anything for this evening.”
Belatedly he realized that Friedrich’s letter still lay on the floor, the Holy Roman Emperor’s seal easily visible, and he quickly stooped to pick it up and began to roll it up once more.
“Your Grace, I have the great pleasure of finally introducing you to my dearest friend, the Count Sean O’Glaigh of Tuscany. His son, Eric, you know already. And our companion this evening is none other than my daughter’s father-in-law, the renowned Duke of Bedford.”
“Bedford!” A damned Englishman indeed.
“Yes, your Grace. Bedford. We have come to play chess with you, one last time.”
“We have no time for chess, nor would We wish an audience for it. What is your mission here, Duke of Bedford?”
“I am here on behalf of my liege Edward, by Grace of God King of England. Thus saith my King: ‘Adolf, Duke of Gelre by murder and deception, blight to your people and pariah to your master’ – who’s letter of contempt you hold, even now, in your hand I believe. My king saith that ‘if, by the dusk of two days hence, you have not abdicated your rule and reinstated your father - the noble and worthy Arnold van Doesberg - to the throne of Gelre, then the good people of England will have no choice but to declare war upon your nation.’ Those, I assure you, were his words.”
“He wouldn’t dare!”
“Ah, but he would. Even now, scores of ships and thousands of men lie off the coast of Flandern, poised to invade in great force. Your troops are elsewhere and not even remotely strong enough to oppose our overwhelming numbers. We would face little challenge anyway, as many of your own counts and barons are already sympathetic to our just and noble cause – as, for that matter, are most of the Royal houses of Europe. My King has assured them that he seeks only to remove a traitor from his ill-gotten throne, and has no desire to lay waste to Gelre’s people or lands if they, in turn, do not oppose his passage or his mission.”
“That’s a lie! The nobles fully support me; and any snivelling traitor who dares defy me will feel the sharp steel of my dagger as it pierces, first his eyes, then his mouth, and lastly as I ram it home in his chest. It will be a painful death, akin to the agony I inflicted on that traitorous Duke of Oldenburg. One, indeed, that I am sorely tempted to inflict on you, for your foul and treacherous words in my presence.”
At these words, Eric’s claymore slid from its sheath as he interposed himself between the two Dukes.
“What! You as well? Mathijs, in God’s name control your dog.”
“He acts on my orders, Adolf, and he will not stand down and allow you to dishonour our nation with the foul murder of an ambassador.”
“Ambassador. You call that message an embassy? I call it a threat and an insult, and I will not tolerate either.”
“It is an embassy of truth.”
“Truth? You know the truth. You have heard my thoughts, you know my mind on this. You know that my father was intending to bend his knee in fealty to King Henry of England, to swear willing vassalage to him.”
“I know nothing of the sort. In fact, although Henry made several overtures to that effect, Arnold would never have accepted them. He wrote to Henry to tell him exactly that.”
“Ha! But that message was never delivered. It was a blind, to put me off the scent. But I saw through his schemes. I knew of the other letter…the one that accepted the offer.”
“There was no such letter.”
“So you say. Though I could never manage to capture his courier, I knew what he was up to. It was simple, how I betrayed him to the Emperor. I manufactured the evidence I could never capture…it’s all the same, really, since I know he was betraying him…and with the Emperor’s money and blessing, I took his throne. I did it for the people.”
“You did it for yourself. Arnold never conceived of any such plan, nor were there ‘secret messages’ passing back and forth between Gelre and England. All you did was play on people’s fears with your own fears, and spread lies and deceit along with your coin. When their fear and support was sufficient that they would not oppose you, you betrayed your father. Where now is the renewed and improved relationship with the Emperor that you said was the goal? Is it in that letter? Please tell. Or is it rather a condemnation of your tyranny?”
“Tyranny! I’ll show him tyranny. I haven’t yet begun to flex my muscle yet. I will tear down all those who even hint at treachery. I will confiscate their lands, and I slaughter their families. In very short time, I will root out every enemy from every corner of the land. These English? I will kill them to a man. Then I will sail across the sea, at the head of my invincible army, and crush this ‘Edward, King of England by Grace of God’. Let the crows feast on their bodies, for I will never relent in my righteousness! After that, I will sew the fields with salt and let the people starve to death, to their ruin. The Emperor, too, will soon feel my wrath.”
“Adolf. You are mad!”
“Mad? Oh…I see it now. I see it all. You have always been the traitor, haven’t you; standing close by my side so you might know my every plan, hear my every word, read my every dispatch. It was you who stood by me when I betrayed my father, captured and imprisoned him. It was you who urged me to let him live. Well, my dear Mathijs, there are things you don’t know.”
“There is little that I don’t know.”
“HA! You don’t know how I smothered my child - my heir - in his crib, pressing the pillow over his face until he grew limp.”
“My God!...”
“You don’t know how I pushed my dear Catherine’s head oh so slowly under the water of her bath. You don’t know how she struggled…flailing away so helplessly until she had swallowed enough water. You don’t know how I enjoyed smashing her head against the side of the tub, seeing the blood pour from the wound. Everyone thought she had slipped and fallen. HA! You don’t know the bloody first thing about anything, and further, I’ll see that YOU DIE FOR IT!”
Even as Adolf began to draw his sword, Eric was moving towards him with his claymore and the door to the study burst open to reveal a corridor filled with nobles. The ancient man, silent all this time, said a single word before the mayhem began…a word that, for some reason, Adolf heard through the pounding blood rage in his head.
“Checkmate.”
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What a showdown! Checkmate, indeed. Shawn and MrT, you really have a hand for conspiracies. A brilliant piece of writing!
Thanks gents.
The "chess" theme is actually completely spontaneous. shawng1 just happened to include it in the "set up" post to my first instalment and I thought it would be fun to play back on...next thing I know we're exchanging knights and pawns and stuff.
Other than a general plot line of "here's roughly what needs to happen" and "here's where I'm planning stop so you can post", we've been pretty much flying by the seat of our pants as far as interaction between the posts. I don't even know 90% of the events until they come up in shawng1's posts.
Quite honestly, it's a blast to write.
The "chess" theme is actually completely spontaneous. shawng1 just happened to include it in the "set up" post to my first instalment and I thought it would be fun to play back on...next thing I know we're exchanging knights and pawns and stuff.
Other than a general plot line of "here's roughly what needs to happen" and "here's where I'm planning stop so you can post", we've been pretty much flying by the seat of our pants as far as interaction between the posts. I don't even know 90% of the events until they come up in shawng1's posts.
Quite honestly, it's a blast to write.
Originally posted by MrT
Quite honestly, it's a blast to write.
I can asure that it is a blast to read as well!
that goes for both of you!!
Eric's claymore disarmed Adolf in one deft move. He then let go of the great sword with his right hand and landed a crushing blow to Adolf's jaw, knocking him to the floor. The nobles surrounded him. And Mathijs grabbed the brooch with the seal of Geldre on Adolf's vest.
"I arrest Thee of High Treason by name of Adolf Van Geldern." He pulled the brooch off. Then gave him a backhanded slap. "Take him away." He said simply.
"And you, I thought you were my friend." Adolf moaned.
"Tha's wha' we wanted ye to thin'."
"Who ARE you?" Adolf said, he had heard the name, but it didn't mean anything to him at first.
"I'm Sean o' Glaigh."
Suddenly the name took. And Adolf's eyes opened in amazement.
"I thought you were dead."
"Not hardly." Sean said firmly in reply.
As Adolf was led to the dungeon, the guard of Mathijs, led by his son Rudolf, was leading Arnold back to freedom and his rightful office. The two parties passed in the dank halls. And Arnold held up a gaunt hand.
"I have never believed in deferring justice. Adolf, you are guilty of treason, and shall be executed by the axe in the morning."
"Go to Hell!" Adolf screamed.
"No, I'm afraid only one of us will make that journey, son. I'm sorry I overindulged you as a youth. But your crimes are your own. And I pray you can find repentance for them between now and noon tomorrow. Otherwise, my Absalom, I fear we will meet ne'er again after tomorrow."
"And that will be once too often for me!" Adolf said defiantly. The Stadtholder shed a tear, and then continued on his way.
Many rumors of the night before the execution of Adolf Van Geldre, traitor to the realm, have been circulated. Most have no support. There is no evidence that the nobles stood by the door of the dungeon to make sure no one could enter the chamber where the former Stadtholder was racked.
There is no evidence that Eric O' Glaigh took the Headman's Axe the night before the execution and used it to chop wood, growling, "A traitor doesn't deserve a sharp axe."
Two things I can confirm. Arnold, who had always loved the balcony before his imprisonment, only came out once to greet the people, and I heard him distinctly say, "Oh Absalom, my Absalom." He did not return to the balcony until the remains of his son's head had been removed from the pike on the Tower Gate. And even then, when he came to the balcony, he often had to fight back tears.
The second thing is that it took three strokes to sever the head of Adolf Van Geldern from it's body.
"I arrest Thee of High Treason by name of Adolf Van Geldern." He pulled the brooch off. Then gave him a backhanded slap. "Take him away." He said simply.
"And you, I thought you were my friend." Adolf moaned.
"Tha's wha' we wanted ye to thin'."
"Who ARE you?" Adolf said, he had heard the name, but it didn't mean anything to him at first.
"I'm Sean o' Glaigh."
Suddenly the name took. And Adolf's eyes opened in amazement.
"I thought you were dead."
"Not hardly." Sean said firmly in reply.
As Adolf was led to the dungeon, the guard of Mathijs, led by his son Rudolf, was leading Arnold back to freedom and his rightful office. The two parties passed in the dank halls. And Arnold held up a gaunt hand.
"I have never believed in deferring justice. Adolf, you are guilty of treason, and shall be executed by the axe in the morning."
"Go to Hell!" Adolf screamed.
"No, I'm afraid only one of us will make that journey, son. I'm sorry I overindulged you as a youth. But your crimes are your own. And I pray you can find repentance for them between now and noon tomorrow. Otherwise, my Absalom, I fear we will meet ne'er again after tomorrow."
"And that will be once too often for me!" Adolf said defiantly. The Stadtholder shed a tear, and then continued on his way.
Many rumors of the night before the execution of Adolf Van Geldre, traitor to the realm, have been circulated. Most have no support. There is no evidence that the nobles stood by the door of the dungeon to make sure no one could enter the chamber where the former Stadtholder was racked.
There is no evidence that Eric O' Glaigh took the Headman's Axe the night before the execution and used it to chop wood, growling, "A traitor doesn't deserve a sharp axe."
Two things I can confirm. Arnold, who had always loved the balcony before his imprisonment, only came out once to greet the people, and I heard him distinctly say, "Oh Absalom, my Absalom." He did not return to the balcony until the remains of his son's head had been removed from the pike on the Tower Gate. And even then, when he came to the balcony, he often had to fight back tears.
The second thing is that it took three strokes to sever the head of Adolf Van Geldern from it's body.
MrT,
Fully understand the need to rewrite. I've been playing off your leads on the fly too.
That said, the axe awaits...
Fully understand the need to rewrite. I've been playing off your leads on the fly too.
That said, the axe awaits...
Hey! I thought you said I had until noon tomorrow!Originally posted by shawng1
That said, the axe awaits...
(which is roughly when I expect I'll have my last post ready...
)
Mr T,
That's fine with me.
kurtbrian,
Eric mean? A bit on the ruthless side perhaps. Much like his father in this aspect, noble and caring to all his friends, little short of the Devil Incarnate to his enemies.
I might be willing to offer a cameo appearance to the person who can label both the Biblical reference and my shameless movie rip-off from the last post.
That's fine with me.
kurtbrian,
Eric mean? A bit on the ruthless side perhaps. Much like his father in this aspect, noble and caring to all his friends, little short of the Devil Incarnate to his enemies.
I might be willing to offer a cameo appearance to the person who can label both the Biblical reference and my shameless movie rip-off from the last post.
Sorcerer,
Good.
Think Western.... the couplet for the line is in my previous installment, and has been quoted by another poster. I modifed it to fit the time period.
Good.
Think Western.... the couplet for the line is in my previous installment, and has been quoted by another poster. I modifed it to fit the time period.
Oh man, now that I found a resemblance with Gladiator, you come along with a Western. That's a genre that was a bit before my time... But I'll do my very best! The internet is my ally.
But I'll do my very best! The internet is my ally.
Think of it this way, I spared you the time and rejection of posting the wrong answer.