As close as I could figure it, “amonster among you” was a threat with a heavy and unmistakable Russian accent. A singularly deadly spell. Something, it appears, the devil couldn’t accomplish. Hence, I presume, “the devil be naught.” All of it was grammatically incorrect. “Amonster” was a noun referring to a beastly creature in a league of its own I take it. And you were dead when it “amonged” you. Language butchery was going on I would say. There isn’t much point in dissecting this nonsense any further.
It was a Russian spy disguising with what he thought was idiomatic English. As it turned out, it was idiotic, not idiomatic. And that’s what did him in.
“Timber me shivers” is what really started blowing his cover. The moment he said that the deep suspicion set in. It’s the other way around, for starters. Sensing trouble, the Russian tried to claim he was simply testing the opposing spies to see if they’d catch on to the error. The Russian argued he could determine if the other spies were fakes pretending to be Englishmen. But what ended the Russian’s career was the metaphorical malarkey he came up with. He painted a visual of “shivers” as body parts being “timbered.” Damn fool. He dug the hole deeper with his utter ignorance of the English language.
The counterspies’ action came with blistering speed. In less than half a blink of an eye, well-concealed firearms appeared and the triggers were pulled. The Russian spy, thus, was made no more. The preferred term here, I believe, is “neutralized.”
The counterspies, it ought to be pointed out, were thoroughly entertained by the now-deceased Russian’s imagination. It tickled their funny bones. They even laughed a bit while resting their right feet on the dead body and blowing the smoke out of their gun barrels.
Oh well, such is the spying business. It’s death intricately intertwined with hearty humor.
To use the Russian’s creation, amonster amonged him, didn’t it?
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