The son shineth freely upon thy face. Ere, hath thee thy will submerged, upon which looks a dog’s tail wagging. Cometh hither, for thine hither ere hath doth will. Willeth the wither, upon hither heather, forbidden feather? Thinkest thee proud, crumbled visage worthy of freedom’s lusty quill? Think not, fiend, then, of those who think meekly on thee?
Tis I, said the fiend, who looks upon thy bosom, as I look upon an asses flanks. For morrow’s marrow I ask not. Only for to-day’s.
Next on Where’s Wetzler?: Love’s Labour’s Lost (and Found in a Chicken Burrito): Chipotle in Shakespearean Terms
This entry was written by , posted on March 5, 2009 at 4:03 pm, filed under Writingz and tagged awesome, Chipotle, fergie, shakespeare, william. Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.
If you’re at work and trying to think of a nasty name to call your boss, I have just the site for you. Imagine his/her bamboozlement when you call him/her a “cockered rump-fed flax-wench.”
Enjoy.
This entry was written by , posted on December 18, 2008 at 2:42 pm, filed under Uncategorized and tagged boss, insult, shakespeare, work-place. Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.