Young Ben of high clan Montaright strolls down

the mall, surveying all protectively.

His muscles bulge beneath his uniform

whereon there gleams a badge, "SecuriRight",

protector of the weak... if they can pay.

His truncheon on his hip hangs by his sword,

and handcuffs dangle from his belt as well.

A microphone is clipped upon his shirt

so he can keep in touch with other cops

in case they need assistance. Ben does not:

he's blonde and buff, crew-cut, a tough young man

who knows the merchants of the mall all count

on him to keep them safe from leftward hands

that otherwise would raid and loot and steal.

The job was made quite plain in basic training

when Sergeant Tobbs announced their mission clear:

"A'right you fornicatin' plugs, now hear!

You're mall cops, boys, god help us all! You need

to get it through your tiny little skulls

the awful truth: the lefty ain't your friend!

I know you've all been taught it's differ'nt now

and left and right are lovey-dovey-do.

That's how the Prince would like it all to be,

despite the fighting in the streets: a few

bad apples it's supposed to be, that's it.

But Tobbs is here to tell the honest truth:

the left hand is a filthy dirty vile

appendage, better suited to the task

of wiping off yer turd-emblazoned bums

like your mommies used to do last week

when you were all still snivelling little beasts,

a lower kind of scum than you are now!"

Ben heard and he obeyed this lesson hard

although in fact he'd learned it wasn't so:

the thieves he caught were right more oft than not,

but lefties were more fun, as now: he could

show off his badge to this soft lefty girl,

not tall but nicely rounded for all that,

caught in the act of filching something small.

"Now come along, you're going to the cells!"

Such a flash of fear and admiration

from her wide faux-innocent young eyes

as she took in his breadth and manly strength

the power of his swagger and his badge;

he took her arm and turned her right around,

breathing in the scent of her clean hair

while noticing beneath her simple dress

no stay impeded nature's bounty there.

"I'll come along, good sir," her voice was soft

and held a hint, a promise, of desire

which lifted Ben's young heart, all temptrest-tost

by the burning of forbidden fires.

"It's not against their will but just a choice,"

old Tobbs had muttered once while deep in cups.

"They throws themselves fair at us, girls and boys.

More than a man can do to just say no."

So Ben had learned, and now he had a choice

as on he snapped steel cuffs around soft wrists

and marched her down the corridor to where

a man might steal a wanton, willing kiss,

or take by force what never should be torn

unwillingly away from sovereign form.

He held her for a moment, looking down

into those eyes so open, deep and wide

while behind the heavy door clicked shut

and then he made his move, and then she sighed,

"You'll leave the handcuffs on this time, alright?"