Gentlemanon

>You are Anonymous The Gentleman.
>At least, that is what you're trying to be.
>After all, one must remember that you have only spent three months as a dedicated disciple of decorum.
>But, for what it is worth, you are rather pleased with your progress.
>You have done a fine job of straightening up your act from your previous lazy, uncaring, and crude demeanor.
>Instead, you are now a rather well-groomed, eloquent (if still working out how to be properly verbose), and polite man.
>You have begun to dress more sharply, and have even recently acquired a fine cane, fashioned out of hardy Rattan wood.
>A rather smart choice, should you feel it's use necessary in a scuffle.
>Of course, you have not quite /learned/ how to fight with a cane as of yet, but it was still comforting to have, in case your hand-to-hand training in the pugilistic arts did not suffice.
>But enough on that.
>Your background is not where this tale begins.
>It was a fine spring eve...
>Just prior to sundown, you had decided that you would fancy a little stroll through the suburbs in which you resided.
>As usual, you walked with your head held high and trusty cane in your grip.
>You also had the luxury of living in a rather calm neighborhood, with level-headed, friendly people.
>Of course, some of the lads your age and younger attempted shake such a notion in favor of appearing "tough", "hard", or perhaps "gangsta".
>You cannot help but chortle at the thought.
>It was a good number of these same young men you had shared a childhood with, building long-lasting friendships and bonds stronger than all but blood with.
>You knew them, and you knew that they were still much the same on the inside as they were before this phase of attempted "toughness".
>And they wondered why you laughed when they spoke of how they fancied themselves as ruffians!
>Always amusing, but you digress.
>You were drifting off topic again.
>The importance of these details was that there was no need to rush an evening stroll.
>You had nothing to worry yourself about if you were out during the night tonight.
>So you had believed, at any rate.
>The event happened with little warning
>You were striding along Barton-Wright Avenue, when your head suddenly began to swim, vision blurring most alarmingly.
>Oh dear... perhaps I may be dehydrated.
>You recall most of your drinking during the day consisted of Earl Grey, rather than water.
>You were not entirely sure that this was the cause, but it seemed a reasonable deduction.
>Even as you begin the return home, another wave of wooziness hits you as you are struggling to maintain clarity of thought
>Staggering forward, you begin to make good use of your cane, even as you start to feel a strange pulling sensation in your gut.
"Most... disconcerting. I must return post-haste."
>you breathe deeply, urging your body forward once more. The extra oxygen appears to help...
>And in a flash, the world around you disappears.
>As the whiteness that chokes your vision fades into inky darkness, you manage to force out a single short sentence before losing consciousness.
"Fainting, how... unpleasant..."