As We Marched Around the Baron’s Sitting Room
most nudists prefer- Don’t bite down.
- looked like horny necromancers
- also very picky about scents
- adorable genius
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As we marched around the Baron’s sitting room, I became aware that Tessa’s footsteps were tapping out a coded message — one intended just for me. I tapped my own reply, “Oh, Tessa, you adorable genius!”
Her message to me was a warning that she was going to emit a potent knockout gas, and that I ought to hold my breath. In addition to not wanting to be rendered unconscious again, I’m also very picky about scents. Knockout gas invariable smells sickly sweet, and I appreciated the heads-up.
A rapid shuffling of her feet signaled the countdown. I took a deep lungful of air, or as deep as I could manage with her elbows still pressed into my sides. She winked at me, and then jets of compressed gas erupted from both of her ears. One blasted Baron von Dimpleheimer, and the other Brandita. In seconds they had both crumpled to the floor.
Tessa hoisted me and hurried to the kitchen where the air was clear. “We need to change our clothes and get out of here,” she said.
A rope ladder led up to von Dimpleheimer’s bedroom, and there we raided his wardrobe. Let’s just say that his tastes are eccentric. By the time we were dressed we looked like horny necromancers. Tessa shoved a set of diamond-encrusted dentures in my mouth to complete my disguise. “Those will shatter your real teeth if you’re not careful. So, you know. Don’t bite down.”
I felt that our getups were too flashy, that they would attract attention rather than allow us to go unnoticed. As most nudists prefer a lack of clothing, I prefer to keep my disguises simple. I wanted to explain my spycraft philosophy to Tessa, but the damned false teeth made it impossible.
bonus points for using them in reverse order