A Brute Defense
“Stay back Marlene. Let me handle this Brute.” And so that was what she did as…
Lucius Aristotle, the great Greek detective, put out a protective hand and took one huge step forward, towards the outstretched arms of the Brute!
Some would say that Lucius was somewhat of a daredevil, a risk taker virtually fearless before man or beast, but Lucius knew better than to believe his own press. At least not when he was in the presence of the likeness of the beastial form he found hovering above him now.
“I’ve been in tight spots before,” thought Aristotle, “plenty of jams where men with more brains than brawn, picked up their skirts and headed for home. But not me, not this time. That beast is going to get what’s due him alright, or my name’s not Lucius Aristotle.”
“Oh Lucius, Lucius please-run away. It’s no use he will surely kill you, tear you limb from limb. 
Please darling run away with me.” was Marlene’s impassioned plea, but to no avail as our hero pressed forward instead, ever closer to the grasping arms of the terror before him.
Arrar-argh! Gasped the hopeful monster as he took one fateful step after another, using the advantage of his size to quickly cross the room and take his place as a towering mass of terror intent on only one thing, to seal the fate of the fallible, foible man who dared to stand in his way. Dared to keep him from the only thing he desired in this world, the beautiful Marlene.
Bap, Bap, Bap Bap Bap!
Was the sound of two small fists meeting the mid-section of the Brute. Luscious Aristotle had mounted a countering barrage with his battering fists against the hairy chest of his formidable foe, but to no avail. For though with forceful intent of his whole mind, will and body seeking to deter, debilitate, disintegrate and yes, even to decapitate this most adversarial ape, Aristotle was unable to defend his beauty properly as the Brute, with one smashing blow after another found its mark and felled our gallant hero for good.
Of course Marlene caught sight of her dearest defeat and flung herself to the ground, wailing with the emotional agony of a wounded Wildebeest in heat.
Aiahhhhi!!!
As she lay between her felled loved one and the beast- like Brute, Marlene continued her swan song with writhing physical discomfiture, interspersed with the repeated shrieks of Aiahhhhi!!! – Aiahhhhi!!! – Aiahhhhi!!!
At this juncture, the Brute rose up as if to cast a final blow when… it occurred to Marlene that
CUT! CUT!
Wait just one minute here. What was that Doris? You call that acting, is that what you call it? Well let me tell you, I call that stinkin parle vu, you get me? I’ve seen better acting with bums down in the Bowery. Why my kid sister’s twelve year old can do better than that!
Alright now let’s try it again. Brute, you move over…
Blah blah blah blah…
When Synapses Go Bad 