Sequencing Chaoos, experiment and end

Insofact [sic], Mandrake rejects the assault making the enemy fly: the clue is in his palms

the ppalms are the clue, those ppalms have something...sordid, dry, cheesistical
the cells of his hands are excessively dry, because of the high percentage of abnormally processed cheese consumed by this high mage during the last 40 years.

In an infinitesimal plis-plas, and after anointing his hands with Ricoltore oil, the magnetotherapy of his dry-oily palms operate a strange force over the homoerotic metabolism of the buttocks of the aggressor:
the dry hands of Mandrake do it, in one second, the offender levitates like a satanized dervish from Hindoo-China, and flying, enters the gates of the bewitched palacet, property of the perverted black magician Nimo, lethal enemy of Mandrake.

Lost, the thug is lost in his flight now, flying directly toward the mouth of the wolf.

...As the poor assailant flies toward his horrible ultima thule, Mandrake laughs

no: his eyebrows laugh, haha

his eyebrows laugh, and get erect in the laughter, like the sirloins of a black cat

crazy, crazy laughter of vengeance and crülty [sic]

HA HA

HA HA

HAHAHA!


AAA HAHAHA!!
















*Note:
The lethality [sic] of the procedures of Mandrake, notwithstanding saved him from many enemies, all over the years, brought over his head a heavy epilog: his death, verified at Casino Philips in 1967.