Untitled 01

It was late night when Mr. Lifshitz learned that the Geriatric League of Evil wanted him dead. He was their leader, after all, it was only a matter of time.
'Good evening, Jules,' he said to the assassin pinned to the wall by a dozen canes and umbrellas, near an open window, 'How nice to find a young man so devout to the League.'
'Hulloh Mr. Lifshitz, sir,' he tried desperately to free himself. 'Sorry to intrude, sir. How does dis day find ya? Tir'dness, it seems, hasn't reached your bones just yet, sir.'
'True, true.'
Lifshitz walked over to the man and grabbed a polka-dotted yellow umbrella. He pointed it to Jules's face.
'Tell me, dear boy. Who sent you? Was it Cornelia? Maybe that demented old man, Virgula?'
'No, sir. 'Twas everyone, sir.'
'Aahh, excellent. And the reason for the mutiny?
'Your conservative measures, sir. They fink we should parley with the Vintage Peacekeepers, that it's on ev'ryone's best interests, sir. A lot of fancy words were involv'd, sir.'
'Oh, my. A lot of fancy words. So it is quite serious, this time.'
'Yes, sir. It is, sir.'
Lifshitz raised his left hand, then drew a circle in the air in front of Jules. The umbrellas and canes rattled and fell on the ground.
'Go, Jules. Tell them not to be so harsh in you.'
'Yes, sir. Fank you, sir. Night, sir.'
Jules ran and jumped out of the window. He screamed.
Poor boy, Lifshitz thought, those were probably the carnivorous petunias by his window. He bellowed by the window, into the dark, 'Ask them for a raise!'
'I will, si-AYYEEEEE!!'
Lifshitz closed the window.
'So, they want me dead. How nice, I think I'll go get myself a cup of tea.'