By Demand!

I usually dont take requests but I never say 'no' to Portmanteau. P, this one is for you!

It was a balmy night, like most nights. P and I were headed to the village to revive our spirits. As we ascended the chariot we had summoned to serve us that night, the charioteer turned back and asked me for my number. Yes, the very digits used to reach my telephone. Oh, the nerve of the lowly knave! We fumed. P almost launched into a usual tirade. He clarified, like butter, in the local dialect, that it is indeed his duty to verify that he is carrying those veritable princesses who had summoned his services. Wish granted charioteer!
As we negotiated the topography, he told us of his past, his days as part of a 'gang'. We refused to take this flight of fantasy as troth. Being the philosophers we are, we attempted to falsify what he had to offer. While he, firmly believing that versimilitude and the scientific weight of a statement arises from the ability to verify, offered us proof. He offered to show us a tattoo on his chest, the symbol of his 'gang'. I balked. "Oh noble charioteer, have you never heard of Karl Popper?" I almost offered him my copy of 'The poverty of Historicism'. But he seemed to have a decent body. P and I are base and he was willing. A smile, a giggle, a few words. Just before we descended, he snapped off the buttons of his shirt and showed us his tattoo. With a demure smile he added. "I dont want you to see my nipples, it would make me shy!"