Space Rocket
Mr Flagstad led Michel in handcuffs, and Duke with a leash connected to his collar, out of the dungeon. They were taken up a winding staircase, then through a great hall lit by candles on chandeliers.
“I say, I don’t think much of the décor,” Duke said. “Still, he was a failed artist, so I guess tasteful artistic expression wasn’t his strong point.”
“Why you doing this, Flagstad? I’m sure deep down you’re a good guy.” Perhaps Mr Flagstad would change his mind, feel bad, then help him and Duke.
“I love serving the Master. Working for him gives my life meaning, and without it I’m just a twit. With him, I’m a twit with a job and a purpose.”
“You are some twit,” Duke said.
“Wouldn’t it be better if you were just a twit who didn’t hurt people? You think it’s okay, what he’s d
