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The good professor walks down a gardened lane, surrounded by fresh spring blossoms on the vine. Peeking left and right, he sneaks a small glass flask from his white blazer's inside pocket, deftly unscrewing the top and taking a quick sip before the families passing him right and left on their way to church service notice.

"Delicious..."

Replacing the flask, he then pulls a folded paper from his opposite pocket, opening it and smiling.

"I say, I say, the patent office won't know what hit it! The Steely Doc will be the talk of the town... I imagine it could even give that scandalous harlot Krystal Meth a euphoric encounter intense enough to drive the devil from her licentious loins. I'll have the slattern in a pew by next Sunday, and teach her how to properly fold a napkin on her lap to keep the DEVIL from getting back inside of her. A proper Southern lady in no time... provided that immoral, rakish gentleman caller of hers, Mister Line, doesn't refuse her my excellent medical services. The cad is rife with perfidy, he may yet do so!"

The professor tips his straw hat at a pair of proper young women, who both stop and give him a deep curtsy. Former students, they are the picture of flawless etiquette.

"Lovely to see you, girls. You'll secure husbands in no time!"

He walks on, pulling a pocketwatch from the hip of his freshly-pressed slacks.

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"Why, I'm nearly late for my appointment! Only the louche would thumb their noses at punctuality..."

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"When a gentleman meets another gentleman, there is a call for eloquence and manners. Mister Line, Sir, I have met you but have yet to meet a gentleman."

Quite the opposite, truth be told. Whereas your ladyfriend could potentially be rescued and be trained to become a FINE member of society with class and grace... I'm afraid you, my good man, are beyond rescue. Your damsel in distress is kicking on those railroad tracks awaiting a white knight while you twirl your villainous mustache and wring your hands in anticipation of the oncoming train!"

"Son, I do believe that train may be yours truly! I say, I say, there simply is no room for rats in my stable, Mister Line. They chew through the feeding bags and attract bugs. They throw the whole estate into disarray! You understand don't you?."

"This FINE federation simply cannot fall into the hands of the gauche. You sir, are unwelcome in my stables... and so, I must release the fox to hunt you down."