"Turn on the blue lights!" he chortled, then followed the exclamation with an offensively shrill whistle.
"Keep your low notions to yourself," Toffee snapped, pushing back a mop of red hair that had fallen rakishly over one eye. "Things are bad enough without you getting smutty about it all. I'm only looking for something."
"Ain't nothing missing that I can see," the drunk giggled.
"Hit him Marc!" Toffee yelled. "Smack that evil-minded little ogre!"
"Can't you get along without all that squirming?" Marc pleaded. "Where's your sense of modesty?"
"I don't know," Toffee returned. "But wherever it is, I'll bet it's getting a darned good jolting around."
Then suddenly the performance stopped.
"It's no use," Toffee said. "I've got this thing on too tight, and the thing's hiding where I can't get at it. I'll have to loosen things up a bit."
"Lord love me!" gasped the evil-minded little ogre. "If she loosens up much more, she'll be spread out like a picnic lunch."
"Slug him, Marc!"