The search of the prince's room yielded grim

The search of the prince's room yielded grim clues to his disappearance; a cracked jewel encrusted cod piece, an empty coin purse and a small puddle of indigo colored blood.
Mr. Holmes was not pleased, I could tell by the flicker of his right eyelid. "He was here." Uttered Mr. Holmes. I was confused, who was "he"? I politely asked him in my most subtle
yelp if he was one of them, then proceeded to rush toward the hotel's receptionist. I charged him full-on, and he suffered some burns from my lit cigar. As he cried, I cried too.
I put my hand up on his his hip. When I dipped, he dipped, we dipped.
When I slid, he slid, we slid. When I spun, he spun, we spun.
I put my hand up on his hip, when he dipped I dipped we dipped. He put his hand up in my pit. Then I bit, he spit. I split.
Yeah, that's right. My pants.They ripped when we dipped. Distracted, I slipped & he flipped. I bit my lip.
And then flipped the script. Made a player trick chips to dip 'tween them hips. Got a grip full of scrip so I split in my ship.
That little chant was enough for him. He covered his ears, determined not to listen to anymore. What were they on about anyway? Chips to dip? What did that even mean? Not knowing
, with both hands clapped over his ears, he just started running without looking. Then there was that moment of realization...the moment he was suspended in mid-air before he fell.

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