FELLOW.
A fellow iz like a bottle ov ginger pop that haz stood six hours with the kork out, in a warm room—it ain’t ginger nor it ain’t pop.
A fellow iz a hybrid; he hain’t got enny more karakter than a drizzly day haz, he iz every boddy’s cuzzin, and hangs around like a lost dog.
He iz often clever, and that iz jist what ruins him. A clever phellow iz wuss oph than a mulatto.
I am sorry for this—i am aktually sad.
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.