"Gaah! Yeah! Got it!"

"Anything you ... Owww ... say, Guido!"

"Oh yeah. Just one more thing. I don't talk funny. (grind) Agreed?"

"Aaaahhh ..."

"God ..."

I noticed the corporal is comin' our way, thereby signalin' an end to our playtime.

"I'll take that as a 'yes,'" I sez, and releases my grip all at once.

I have neglected to mention durin' my previous instructional oration that if youse relaxes the aforementioned grip suddenly and completely, the resultin' rush of blood to the area which has been assaulted by said grip causes additional discomfort to a point where some subjects have been known to faint dead away. The advantage of this is obvious, in that you are not actually even touching them at the moment the effect takes hold.

The Flie brothers are in exceptionally good shape, as I have noted before, so they merely stagger a bit. It is clear to them, however, as it is to me, that for a while they will have extreme difficulty movin' their arms with any degree of speed or strength ... like say, in a fight. This, of course, has the originally desired effect of mellowin' their previously bully in', swaggerin' behavior noticeably.

"What's going on here?" the corporal demands, burstin' in on our little group.

I blinks innocent-like and gave him a helpless shrug like he was a DA during cross examination.

"We was just discussin' the logical-type benefits of social over antisocial behavior in a group situational."

"Oh yeah? Is that right, you two?"

The Flies try to match my shrug, but wince halfway through the gesture and have to resort to nods.

The corporal glares at us suspiciously for a few, then turns to the rest of the group.

"All right, everybody form up in two lines!" he hollers in a poor imitation of the sergeant. "It's time we move out for the classrooms!"

"Did our agitators respond properly to applied logic?" Nunzio murmurs, easin' up beside me.