Saturday, May 22, 2010

96 - Recite SHAKESPEARE with SKULL

You decide to take a short respite from the love's labour of solving the PUZZLE BOX, as you like it but, measure for measure, right now you'd like to relax in the only other way you know how. Half-remembering SHAKESPEARE while holding the poor GENTLEMAN (possibly of VERONA)'s SKULL.

RHYS: Alas, poor Bleachy, I knew him,
Boaratio. A fellow of infinite vest, of most excellent shirt and pantsy.
He bore that shirt on his back a thousand times.
And now how abhorred in my imagination it is! It's ripped! My gorge rises at it.

Here hung those lips I assume that were once soft.
Where is your breathing now? Your exhales? Your sentience?
Your flashes of consciousness, that were wont to mimic humans,
or a boar? No one now will mock your grinning, save I. You look dumb.

Oh, folly, but I will follow him thither with modesty enough,
wearing my own awesome suit, as thus:
Bleachy died, Bleachy was not buried, Bleachy returneth into dust, eventually.

He hath nothing to loot, oh, what indignity, not even a bare bodkin.
For he doth sleep, and by a sleep we say that he was looted verily,
verily, the butter of the peanut and tawdry brickabrack t'were all that remained.
There are more things in heaven and earth, Boaratio, but must be looted elsewhere.

Uh, winter of our discontent about... stuff. Uh, civil brawl,
lend me your ears, uh, not to bury Bleachy but to... happy dagger?

>Open the FREAKING BOX already

1 comment:

Tobias said...

Open the FREAKING BOX already.