"I had him stuffed and placed him in the hall
above the fireplace. See--there he hangs.
His glass eyes catch the fire, the dagger fangs
polished and bared. Hm? No, man, not at all!
I like to tell the tale. I show his head
each chance I get. Mark you the silver coat,
hairs tipped with black, like quills. And near the throat,
my bullet hole. One shot! And he was dead.
"What's that? Oh yes, it's true about the moon.
It's well you visited me on this date;
you get to see him in his trophy state.
Talking of which--we'd best get upstairs soon.
"It's nearly dawn. Let's leave him while we can.
You wouldn't want to see him as a man."
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