The Great Plague

The weird circle. In this cave with restless sea, we are meant to call from out of the past stories strange and weird. Bellkeeper told the bell so that all we know we are gathered again in the weird circle.

Bantoms of a world gone by speak again the immortal tale led. My name's C. Farrell, and as I often said, I'm willing to learn.

Learn to do anything, as long as I can earn me enough to keep a roof over me, adden food in my stomach. It was at lunchtime yesterday, that I first came to this blasted town and you bought in Mon l'Nusche, and took me to the nearest inn to see about a bite for the inner man.

I stood at the doorway looking in, and who do I see? But my old friend and pal, Griggsby, that greatest thief whatever lived. Yes, it was Griggsby. Look in as if he'd never slept on a London bench in his life, eating as full and arir meal as I've ever seen.

At the same time I seize him, he sees me and he shats. Fattel! Well, well, well. Griggsby, my boy. Yeah, look in as well as the Prince of Wales. I'm fit. Yes, fit, Fattel. Fit for what?

Whatever you got in that pig-like mind. Sit down, fatter, sit down. I've been looking for a man like you. I want to meet a friend of mine. Bender? This is C. Fattow. Led to meet you.

Cheery sort of blow. What? I ain't very cheery, but you get used to him. You have to. He's a friend of mine. Why not? Since you're asking the question, Mr. Bender, you're the one that must answer, eh?