If I so much as go to buy a bag of penny sweets, I expect my social inferiors to know their place. Not only should they know it, they have to demonstrate they know it with open displays of servile self-abasement. And woe betide any of this pond life if they fail to pay me the courtesies I deserve. For that I always demand instant dismissal. The worst of course, is when they have the temerity to look one in the eye. One scalliwag tried this the other day but such was my outrage that my walking cane was across his visage before there was time for our eyes to fully lock. Ruffian won't be trying that again any time soon. The world sure has gone to hell in a hand cart.