He returned from The Crusades and plonked his shield down just inside the front door. She jumped up to run to him, but she was suddenly brought to the floor by a dead leg from having sat down for too long. He flung his codpiece to one side and stood ready to put her to the sword. Though she was concussed from hitting her head on the flagstones, she managed to lick her lips and utter a lascivious ‘mmmmmyyyyeaahhhh’ before passing out.
He flung his semi-congealed blood all over her knockers. That seemed to sort her out.
She speared the semi-dried turd on the end of a bamboo cane, held the cane at the other end, and with a step forward and a whipping motion she flung the log high over the gardens, turned back to the house with a swagger, and grinned a little at the sound of it thudding into someone’s conservatory. It would take both a master of forensics and a timely drop in the rate of more serious crimes in order for her to be caught. In fact, she was already chowing down a bowlful of flax seeds and getting ready for the next volley.