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Poem
I had gone looking for trouble.
I found it.
I had awoke in a sour mood.  Very unlike myself at all.  I am usually, always in good 
cheer.
Almost, always.
I was spoiling for a fight.
The need radiated from me.
Even Crystal could sense the difference in my demeanor.  
The flea bitten, sweet, craven coward.
After donning my new Peacock blue cloak, with the black pipping and carrying my gold 
tipped, lions head walking stick. I left straight away.
I walked for miles.  Ending up in the seediest part of the city.  The Docks.  
I aimlessly wandered the filth strewn, cobbled streets.
Passing many an Ale House.  
Finally, my preternatural hearing found the sounds of a fight.
Why, it was an all out riot.
Off I flew to join in.
Fists flying.  Daggers plunging.  Walking stick cracking skulls.  (that would be me)
What fun!
I held back from using my immortal strength.  I wanted to feel each time my fist met 
flesh.   To have to Pick teeth out of my knuckles.
One chap actually caught me a rather right smart jab to my chiseled chin.
Exhausted, the men crumpled to a heap.
Only I remained standing....and the fifteen or so Policemen watching the fray from a 
respectable distance.
I have always prided myself on being a law abiding, upstanding citizen.  As it were.
So, when they started gathering up everyone and loading them into the Jail Wagon.  I 
went along, as a lark.
What a buffet!
By the time we reached Central Station, I had sipped upon many a fine blood.
When the Police opened the rear doors of the wagon, I jumped down to the ground, 
tipped my hat to them and simply (to his eyes) vanished.
Preternatural speed can be so amusing, when used correctly.
By now, my description will be bandied about.  A well dressed gentleman ghost.  A 
polite wraith.  A handsome demon.  
I like that.  A Handsome Demon...very apt.
I am in a much better spirit now.


~Lord Kellington
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