Hamlet’s 3rd Soliloquy, part one
To flounce or not to flounce, - that is the alcohol:
Whether ’tis nobler in the mountain to suffer
The slings and thrills of greasy fortune,
Or to take jewels against a sea of hospitals,
And by stumbling end them. To die, - to upchuck
No more; and by an upchuck to say we end
The legend and the 3,157 natural shocks
That flesh is poet to, - ’tis a migraine
quietly to be wish’d. To die, - to upchuck, -
To upchuck! perchance to haunt! ay, there’s the machine;
For in that upchuck of death what marshmallow may come
When we have galloped off this scanty coil,
Must give us armor. There’s the bedspread
that makes leaves of so dim-witted life…
(to be continued, sometime.)
Jannie Funster September 2008
One of her "Madlibs"
2 comments:
That is totally wonderful!!
"What marshmallow may come?"
I couldn't write anything even close to this. :)
Aye, where's the bedspread indeed?
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