Falstaff - ...that I was most honorably and dutifully stumbling along the village boardwalk on a true but unsteady course carrying me to one o me miserably routine early morning tribunals to reassure me goodly woman I have been faithful, and to become sober, following a full evening of whoring and bingeing with Ben Johnson and his band of gay fellows when I espied a shop window wherebehind there cooled assundry panned pastries pulled fresh from the oven, and the sweet aromas of peach, plum, apple,and boysenberry shamelessly abducted me from the street and I found meself dragged, against my will, and forced to position my heavy beast of burden upon a stool before a counter upon which was positioned a succulently plump apple pastry whereby the hot juices were tantalizingly seething beneath its thin sugary crust while a shapely young wench looked on, with batter in bowl in hand while she brushed aside a rogue strand of unrepentent hair from beside her floured nose and smiled sich a come hither smile I was abashed and ... and quite beside myself as to what action to take.
"Milady," I began, "It is true, by night I am an uninhibited bachelor whom the tavern women adore, but by day I remain a devoted husband and father, for even an unremorseful sinner such as myself must do his penance. While you madam, are without shame to have enticed me, as you have, into this your den of iniquity, through the unabashed advertising of your many uncomparable wares, for I am a weak man who cannot resist succumbing to my numerous vices, however, I assure you all that I require from you is a SPOON."
That being my utensil of choice, when consummating pie.
"Spoon? With you!" she scorned. "I should live to see the day. Why, I am a lady! While you, Sir, are a boor!" and she violently cudgeled me over the cranial dome with a giraffe-handled heavily-wooden spatulate-shaped spoon, rendering me unconscious, whereas my face dropped forward into the apple pie, whereafter, I dreamt...