Black Cord Tuxedo

In the half light the blade glinted, singing its deadly song. You didn’t have much time. .007 seconds to evade its edge. Just enough as it sliced the mahogany table beside you, sending canapés into their lofty demise. Where the hell did this guy come from? One second you’re enjoying a mediocre hor d'oeuvre, the next, you're death dancing a katana blade wielded by a pyjama’d assassin. Thank CHRIST you were wearing your Black Cord Tuxedo, tailored by Beggars Run. Otherwise that sword would’ve bisected your head like a soft watermelon. The suit’s soft handle and comfort gave you a dexterity like no other garment. SWOOSH! Over your head it went, as you performed the “splits”, giving you the green light to right hook the ninja’s cojones. Down he dropped, like the proverbial sack of shit. Everyone clapped and cheered. It was considered the wedding of the season. WHAT. A. SUIT.