FLUNKEY.
Flunkeys are just abuv loafers, and just belo fellows.
They ain’t maskuline, feminine, nor nuter—they are just human dough.
They hav the currage ov a spring chicken, the ferocity ov a kricket, the combativness ov a grasshopper, and the bakbone ov an angleworm.
They are human dough made to order, and baked az yu choose.
Ain’t it orful?