Lincoln pushed his way through the bouncers, bar staff and dancing girls to the back of the speakeasy, knocking on the thick iron door that stood between him and the crime boss.
"Open up in there, you finned fiend!" he cried, banging his mighty fist against the door. "I know you're in there, so come on out and let's make fisticuffs."
The door slowly swung its way open, and a small, old, decrepit fishman carrying a bucket walked out.
"Ok, ok sonny, no need to make a ruckus," he muttered hoarsely. "I'm out, here I am. Now what's all the noise about?"
Abe gave a look of concern. "Pardon me sir, you wouldn't happen to be the boss of an underwater crime syndicate, would you?"
The old fishman laughed. "Oh my, sonny, no! I'm just the fella what cleans out the terlet."
"This is a toilet?" Lincoln took a look inside the room. Nothing but a row of urinals and toilet cubicles."
I'm bleeding out my finger right now so post will be short.
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