Twitterature

by Alexander Aciman

  The thought of Wanda engaging in perverse activity is a total bone-kill. I really donʼt want to play sex-charades today.

  This new man is threatening and humiliating. I no longer desire to be her slave. What doesnʼt she understand about pets before broʼs?

  Iʼm so pissed. All I want to do is dominate women. Thatʼs what men do, we get on top and say: ʻBaby, the rideʼs over when Iʼm over.ʼ

  I realize now that women should submit, and make me a sandwich while youʼre down there.

  Men will always be on top, until women are our intellectual equals. Like thatʼll ever happen.

  Waiting for Godot

  by Samuel Beckett

  @ShaggyGodotJoke

  Sure have been waiting for a while. Gonna take my boot off and relax a bit. But I know a changeʼs gonna come.

  Boot wonʼt come off. Frustrating, as is all of life. But nothing can be done, can it? Could be worse: boot up my ass.

  Hanging from a tree to get a hard-on might help pass the time. Yeah, hard-ons are fun. And hard. And fun.

  Ever heard the one about the brothel? Thereʼs this hooker, and she walks into a bar, and - oh, hold on, gotta take a piss.

  What time is it, anyway? Is this ass-wind coming or not? Is this where I was supposed to meet him?

  Wasnʼt even supposed to be here today, so sorry for the boring updates. Should have exciting news once Godot arrives.

  Eating a carrot. Delicious carrot, but as I finish I realize that the malaise has not ended and the purposelessness of existence carries on.

  I see some guy coming down the road. He told me his name: Pozzo. Almost as retarded as my name, Estragon. WTF?

  I canʼt understand what this crazy asshole is talking about. And he just said cunt.

  Pozzo reminds me of the gimp from Pulp Fiction? Boy, that scene was fucked up.

  Where is this asshole? @Vlady: Are you sure itʼs tonight? Iʼm telling you, he isnʼt coming! Just fell in a ditch. That sucked.

  Still waiting. A boy told us that Godot was going to be late. OH REALLY?

  So thereʼs a dog and the dog has fleas, you know what fleas are? A thing on a dog, this dog, and the dog has fleas, you know what dogs are . . .

  Jeez. Our lives are so boring.

  Pozzo is back. He is blind now, which has gained him much inSIGHT. Wordplay!

  Godot not here/coming yet again. Contemplated suicide but the rope was too short. Perhaps tomorrow.

  Still waiting. Trying not to think of this awful, frustrating situational metaphor weʼve found ourselves stuck in.

  Shit, I just lost the Game.

  Watchmen

  by Alan Moore

  @Rorschizzle

  A comedian died tonight. He was all about the lulz. No one laughed.

  I should warn the Nite Owl, but first I should break into his house and eat all his beans. Classy.

  It turns out not everyone is as paranoid as I am; they donʼt think that they - you know, THEY - are out to get us.

  Funeral was melancholy. Itʼs perfect and moving in the rain. Can you request the rain metaphor as part of the pre-need package?

  Must break into a military facility and visit Doctor Manhattan. I hate seeing him, heʼs always waving his big blue dong around.

  I fuckinʼ knew it! Itʼs like heʼs all-knowing but lacks the knowledge and the etiquette of putting your junk away when guests arrive.

  Doctor Manhattan is cancerous, and someone tried to shoot Ozymandias. What a fruitcake.

  Some turdblossom framed me, and now Iʼm going to be arrested. Maybe I can take out some cops for fun.

  In jail, but still managed to totally burn one cop with a flame-thrower. He was on freakinʼ fire. (No fucks in comics.) It was pretty bomb.

  Hey: Iʼm not stuck in this rathole with you. Youʼre stuck with me. Did you catch what I did to that guy with all the burning oil?

  Thereʼs a big prison riot. I want my face back; whatʼs a man without his face? A faceless man, thatʼs what. Canʼt face that.

  Laurie and Nite Owl came to get me. Theyʼre all flushed and red. I think they got it on. Super-awkward. Now I have to ride with them.

  Yeah, they definitely balled. Hold on, I have to crush a midget into a toilet. Pwnd.

  Ozymandias was behind the attacks. I knew it, you can never trust a fruitcake who dances with Warhol at Studio 54.

  Nite Owl says we have to go to Antarctica. Frostbite on your nads can seriously lower your sperm count.

  We have to fight Ozymandias. Heʼs like the two of us combined, on crack, no, steroids. No, speed. Weʼre screwed.

  Manhattan appeared and kicked ass. Deus ex manhactica. The ass-kicking was even more impressive with that huge blue dong waving everywhere.

  Now ʻtheyʼ are gonna unleash giant squids in the worldʼs major cities! Either I stop this or I stop drinking the water.

  Everyone disagrees? You express your complex conception of morality, I explain mine, then you blow me into little sociopathic pieces?

  Fuck. Oops.

  Mrs Dalloway

  by Virginia Woolf

  @FlowerGirl

  Ah! A party tonight! Should be a fine time - fun, friends, nothing stressful, nothing awkward. Should be a blast!

  And Iʼve got these lovely, lovely flowers. Need only now to prepare my house for this fine even—oh my God itʼs Peter.

  He thinks I donʼt love my husband because of him. The secret is, I donʼt love my husband because I dig chicks.

  On a side note, has anybody noticed that @Septimusʼs posts have become a little erratic since the war ended?

  Really, he used to love Shakespeare and poetry. Now heʼs like the Bard of SADford upon Lame-on.

  Itʼs alright though, heʼs probably suffering from a lack of proportions. I mean, sure most of his friends died but think how many lived??

  Ah, my husband is home! Heʼs brought me a bundle of roses! I bet he loves m—well, this is just uncomfortable.

  A void exists between my husband and me. Itʼs as if I am ... different, somehow. Iʼm not sure what one would call it, though.

  Now this awful woman has come to teach my daughter. Ah, how I hate this bitch. Really, everyone in my life is stressing me out today . . .

  So, Septimusʼs doctors decided he really was insane. Taking their advice, he decided to take the plunge . . . out a tenth-story window.

  Finally, time for the party! Though Iʼm not sure how Iʼm feeling about it now, to be honest. All these assholes kind of make my life hell.

  I identify with Septimus though, more than these awful people who make Victorian life so open to criticism . . .

  Because, Iʼm not sure if you realize, but Victorian life is backwards. Really backwards. These people are insane.

  Perhaps I should jump out of a window too, that might get me away from this ridiculous, oppressive society.

  Or a river. Yeah, thatʼs it. A river.

  Crime and Punishment

  by Fyodor Dostoevsky

  @RobPeterPayPaul

  Itʼs hard being a poor student - lots of work, crappy room, and I have the ugliest hat this side of the Urals.

  Man at the bar telling me a story. In essence: ʻNow my daughterʼs a prostitute, and I know why (yeah yeah) because I got high.ʼ Or drunk.

  Though I must say, his daughter is quite the lady. Very comforting, though a bit pushy with the Jesus stuff.

  It is a bit of a rut being so miserably impoverished. I need something to lighten up my life, something exciting . . .

  Iʼve got it. Rather than accept financial aid from my friend, Iʼll murder an elderly moneylender in cold blood. Why? Iʼm not telling.

  Really, Iʼm not telling. Probably something to do with that hack Turgenev and that hip nihilism shit, but my lips are sealed.

  However, if youʼd like to guess at my psychological and ideological motivations for the next couple of hundred years, be my guest.

  Sorry about the rant there. Will try to keep the long, introspective monologues to a minimum.

&nbs
p; Casually offʼd that old maid while typing this. Some other bitch just walked in . . . well, sheʼs dead too. Bad timing, LOL.

  Thereʼs no evidence, I have no motive. The police think theyʼre going to solve this one? Iʼm a Napoleon. I can do whatever I want.

  Though youʼd think since I just wrote a thesis on committing and getting away with crimes, there might be some cause for suspicion?

  You know, maybe I donʼt have as much emotional fortitude as I thought I did. Iʼm starting to feel a bit guilty. Should pass.

  IʼM REALLY UPSET RIGHT NOW BECAUSE I KILLED AN OLD WOMAN AND THOUGH I TWEET IT MY LIPS CANʼT SPEAK IT.

  I think the coppers are starting to get suspicious on account of my acting LIKE A CRAZY PERSON WHO KILLED AN OLD WOMAN.

  If you could spare a few hours, Iʼll tell you about the intricate details of my very simple moral dilemma. Try to listen through my tears.

  I wish I could just shout it on the streets, then I think no, because everyone would look at me weird. Because killing old women is weird.

  I cracked and told @StSofia, which was a weird choice since the second lady I killed was her friend. She didnʼt seem too upset, though.

  Perhaps Jesus could help with some of these guilt issues. Religion against my ideals though - same ideals that made me kill that woman.

  Alienation too much. Confessed to my crime - being sent to Serbian prison. Only seven years though, and Sofia loves me for some reason?

  Another day in the old jail cell. Everything seems pretty bleak. Other prisoners hate me, and thereʼs nothing much to do.

  Oh hey, itʼs the New Testament. Iʼd like to suggest that this book is going to change my life, but thatʼs really a story for another time . . .

  Wuthering Heights

  by Emily Brontë

  @HeathBar

  A family has found me, and they keep calling me gypsy. Have I stolen their wallets yet? NO.

  Theyʼre all miserable excuses for people. They hit me and treat me like Iʼm bonkers. Or a gypsy. Except Catherine, sheʼs pretty cool.

  The maid is also very nice, but sheʼs a maid, you know? Theyʼre like slaves. I guess I am a gypsy, so not much better.

  Catherine very clearly likes me, and I like her too. I hope we can spend the rest of our lives together.

  Get off of her you motherfucking dogs, fucking devils.

  Apparently is not OK for little kids to swear that way. Catherine now stays with another family, and Iʼm not allowed to see her.

  I want to see her. She wants to see me. Canʼt we be together? Catherineʼs brother is a total ass. Sorry. A pence for the cursing jar.

  Enough. This home is miserable. Everyone is cruel. Iʼm leaving. Theyʼll be sorry.

  After a time Iʼve become rich and successful, and very good-looking. This ought to mess with their heads back home.

  I canʼt believe it. Catherine has married the twatting tool across the street.

  The house is now mine. Since the neighbor has Catherine, Iʼll seduce his sister. Weʼll see how brave he is when sheʼs got Heathcock in her.

  Girl is preggers. Catherine is dead. My world is over. Iʼve become an evil, evil man. Naming my son Heathcliff Jr.

  ALL I WANT TO DO IS BEAT MY WIFE. RAGE!!! PASSION! HEAT!!! HEATH!!

  Jrʼs been bad. He must stay locked in his room without food. Wiseass. I should have pushed his mother down a flight of stairs earlier!!

  Iʼm dying. Life has been meaningless. Oh Catherine!

  My dying wish: that my spirit be united with Catherineʼs, that we roam the heath together forever, and that Kate Bush writes a song about us.

  Lolita

  by Vladimir Nabokov

  @PolanskiFan106

  OK guys, yes, my name is Humbert Humbert. Letʼs try to be mature about this.

  I need to find a place to stay where I can write. My work is important. No pets, no noise, no distractions of ANY sort!!

  Did I just see a Nymphet - or was it my fertile writerʼs imagination? Theyʼre like sex goddesses, but mini. So like, SkineMax at Gymboree.

  This girl is a goddess. I must rent this room. Then Iʼll get her to come over, put on some music, crack the vino. And make some magic.

  Her name is Lolita. But her mother, Charlotte, is obsessed with me. I should bail but damn, her little honey of a daughter is FINE.

  When I was twelve, I was hot for twelve-year-olds. Whatʼs changed? Nothing, as far as I can tell. I am in a haze, or soon hope to be.

  @Charlotte: I have a diary on my desk, please donʼt look at it. Itʼs personal, also incriminating. Tempted yet?

  Problem suddenly solved. Lolitaʼs mom got hit by a car. Thank goodness, now I can get down to business.

  @Lolita: Time to come home from camp. Your mom is, uh, sick?

  Ohhh, this hotel looks classy. Enchanted Hunters, sounds mythical. More like Enchanted Humpers, nʼest-ce pas?

  @Lolita: Do you smoke after sex? Oh wait, youʼre too young to smoke. But still, would you like a smoke . . . after?

  Thereʼs a guy who looks just like me. Heʼs kind of cool but follows us in his car. Yet with a name like Clare Quilty . . . What, me worry?

  Lolita must have an education. She canʼt be simply an ignorant whore. I like a girl with brains. Looks arenʼt everything after they turn thirteen.

  I got a flyer for a school play. Itʼs called The Enchanted Hunters. Quilty again!

  Lolita is sick. We must get her out of this school. Itʼs Clare Creepy. Iʼm the good guy this time, for a change!

  No! Little Lo-lo has disappeared from the hospital. I am her immediate kin. Who authorized this?

  Iʼm gonna find that Quilty fucker and stab him in the face. Thatʼs what he deserves for stealing my almost-a-woman!

  Later. Found him but Lolita was not with him. She got away. He wanted to make a porno with her, that sick fuck. Sheʼs just a kid!

  So you see, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, Iʼm not so bad after all. No, Iʼm a good person. Please let me off?

  Can you imagine me in jail? Not for pedophilia, but for murder. Youʼre never in for what you deserve. Sigh. So let me tell you a story.

  Gulliverʼs Travels

  by Jonathan Swift

  @LittleBigMan

  Though I have made a life as a surgeon, I do enjoy a good travel. In this day and age, ʼtis not hard at all to acquire a ship and crew.

  All goes well thus far upon the sea. My men are loyal, and I do believe I captain this vessel well. Oh shit! A ROCK!

  Awoke in an unfamiliar land. The boat and my crew are gone. Oh dear, the people here are very small. Oops. Sorry about that.

  I donʼt mean to boast; Iʼm not a terribly tall man. But these people of Lilliput are the size of childʼs Johnson. Still, they have captured me.

  I have become a great favorite of the Lilliputian court, whose antics are like an adorable tiny version of King Georgeʼs, the blithering idiot.