These tiny men are very serious, and engaged in a war with their neighbors. Plus they donʼt like me calling them ʻshortyʼ and ʻjuniorʼ.
Helped them by stealing the enemy fleet, as if playing like a boy in the bathtub. But they demand ʻBlefuscudian delendum estʼ and I say no.
The Lilli-fuckers have decided to blind me. Luckily, I am twelve times their size and escape was not difficult. Back to England!
I feel compelled to set out again. This time I shall have to improve my captaining.
Again my crew has abandoned me. Oh dear! Woke up to see a gentleman over seventy feet tall. What a clever turn of events! Now IʼM dick-sized.
I have been turned into something of a traveling novelty. I even have a little house. All goes well. OH SHIT, AN EAGLE.
Home in England. Yet I am compelled to set out again. Wife seems skeptical; what does she know? Hope things go well this time.
Attacked by pirates who left me marooned on an island. Starting to understand why Iʼm the ʻcaptain of several shipsʼ. Donʼt tell my wife.
Picked up by flying city. Theyʼve invented bombs and the computer. In the seventeenth century. Perhaps Iʼll see the foresight of this in 300 years.
Back in England. Never traveling again. Ever. OK, maybe one more time. Just one more time.
Marooned again. How many ships have I lost now? Oh well. There is an extremely ugly, stupid man here. He canʼt speak or reason, it seems.
This island is run by horses. Beautiful, wonderful, brilliant horses. They are perfect beings. The man I saw earlier is their slave.
Horses amused by my spark of intelligence. Yet, my ability to lie is a ʻthreatʼ to their society and I must be expelled. Canʼt I stay, please?
Back home. I cannot stand human society. I have taken to wearing horse shit about my neck as my wifeʼs smell repulses me.
In the stable, brushing my horse. I should be here most of the day, and for the rest of my life.
The Wall
by Jean-Paul Sartre
@SpanishToms
God this room is bright. How much did I have to drink last night? Oh right, nothing but the stinging nectar of my own angst.
Guards wanted to know where Ramón Gris is. Didnʼt tell them anything. Iʼm not a rat, though rat sounds good right now. Iʼm awfully hungry.
In a cell. Not so bad, except one kid seems very nervous. Another guy talks about how in Morocco they trample prisoners to save ammo.
@GreyJuan: I donʼt think theyʼll run us over here. Donʼt worry. They wonʼt run us over. Unless, you know, theyʼre really low on ammo.
Sentenced to death. Never really thought of death before. No reason. Have reason now, on account of my being executed in the morning.
I feel pity for the kid, but his inability to cope with his
completely cruel and arbitrary execution without tears bugs me for some reason.
A doctor is here. Normally I would talk, but I didnʼt feel like it. The trivialities of life have begun to fall away.
The kid is trembling and asking if it hurts to be killed by a firing squad. His fear of pain and suffering bother me more than my execution.
As the night goes on, Iʼve started to think maybe it isnʼt so bad to be a bit upset by this whole ordeal.
Picturing the execution in my head over and over, like a song I canʼt stop humming to myself - except it ends with 4,000 holes in ME.
In a way, Iʼm already dead. The doctor is fascinating as a man who, by virtue of not being about to be dead, is truly alive.
Still, in a way, his impending death is just like ours - just less clear. I suppose life is pretty bleak, huh? Canʼt even LOL.
If Iʼd known Iʼd be shot like this, I wouldnʼt have spent a moment chasing girls or talking at anarchist meetings.
But if Iʼd known, and then not gone to meetings, I wouldnʼt be here. So I wouldnʼt know. Then Iʼd go to meetings. This is heavy, man.
I want to die cleanly. Iʼm not sure why, tho. In theory, deathʼs meaninglessness should invalidate any dignity taken from life, right?
The big morningʼs here. Theyʼll take me out to that wall, that terrible, terrible symbol of the absolute nature of inevitable death.
They keep asking me where Ramón Gris is and promise to let me go if I tell them. But I am a true revolutionary. I face death with dignity.
It would be pretty hilarious though if I just told them some nonsense and sent their soldiers on a wild goose chase, huh?
@TheSoldiers: Ramón Gris? Heʼs in the graveyard. Heʼs hanging out with the dead, just like me. Parallelism is vital to deathbed humor.
True humor: Ramón Gris actually IS in the graveyard. And now heʼs going to be killed. And so Iʼm free. I LOLʼd so hard I cried.
Pride and Prejudice
by Jane Austen
@FirstThoughtBestThought
Usually a man wills his home to his wife or kids. But sometimes, he wills it to a distant relative, so when he dies, youʼre out on your ass.
And then, and THEN, that distant, meddlesome priest of a relative tries to seduce one of your sisters.
Unsure why anyone would want my sisters. All they want is to hit it with the officers - what war are they even fighting in the countryside?
Though my older sister - Jane - is nice. How could she not be? Jane is such a good name. I would like anybody named Jane.
The English country is a dull place much of the time. Local dances, hysterical family, long, long afternoons with nothing much to do . . .
Oh shit, some rich young gentlemen just showed up. Score!
This one man seems quite interested in my sister - but the other, a Mr Darcy, is very cold and condescending. I find that . . . attractive.
Itʼs as if the less he seems to care about me, the more drawn to him I am. This seems like the opposite of how it should be? Oh well.
But I do hear bad things about this Mr Darcy and they have begun to repulse me. Nothing ruins infatuation for a lady like hearsay.
That other dude dumped my sister, and him and Darcy left town. What a mean, mean man! Heʼs terrible! Oh, he wants to marry me.
Really let Darcy have it - over my sister, and that officer he cheated. Said Iʼd never marry such a bad man. Never. Absolutely never.
Isnʼt it cool how Iʼm defying my gender role by standing up for myself? My whole family, though flawed, does make a strong claim for women.
Just received a letter from Darcy. Taking a look.
Huh. I guess he wasnʼt such a bad guy. Maybe everything had an explanation. Maybe I do like him, just a little bit . . . best not think of it.
Sorry, itʼs been a few months. Out in Darcyʼs land now - touring his estate. Quite nervous to see him . . .
So Darcy is here. Heʼs handsome, charming - everything. Weʼre ABOUT to make the magic happen when my STUPID sister disappears with some guy!
Hunt continues for @Lydia - has she tweeted any clues as to her whereabouts? Check @Wickham too - heʼs the deadbeat.
So @Lydia and @Wickham actually married in secret. Well, as long as theyʼre married, their disappearance and sexual escapade is OK, I think.
Meanwhile, Jane - wonderful, sweet Jane - is also married. Weʼre dropping like flies! I suppose I love Darcy now, after all of this.
He and I are wed and have moved to our own home in the country. I got the man, his money, and uh . . . womenʼs power!
Sir Gawain and the Green Knight
@GawainsWorld
Cruel fate has landed me on King Arthurʼs b-squad. Lancelot frogged his damsel and we all know it, but heʼs top dog. WTF?
So listen here, some green man came to the hall and wants someone to cut his head off. Some sort of dare? Could be fun, right?
The deal is I cut off his head now, and he cuts off mine a year later. What a jester - doesnʼt he know heʼll be dead?
This goblin fellow is totally dead.
All seemed fine until Ichabod Crane here fell to the floor, stood up, and picked up his head. His head, in his hands. I
n HIS HANDS!
Oh boy, Iʼve really soiled the kettle now. I gotta skip out of Camelot, honor my word, and find this devil so he can reciprocate.
I had it coming. ʻYeah Gawain, come over, weʼll have a good time, open some champagne, have some ham, itʼll be fun.ʼ Arthur, you prick.
This is the last time I get drunk with the Sirz. Itʼs never happening again because IʼLL BE DEAD!
Iʼm bumping my nads on this horse, looking for someone who will kill me. He cannot be killed. Also, itʼs Nativity festival season.
I found this castle in the woods. The lady here wants to pull Excalibur from my stones, if you know what I mean.
The owner wants to make a deal. He says that whatever I earn there I have to give to him in exchange for what he earns? Why not.
Wait, wait, if I get on his woman, then logically, on my honor, I would have to sleep with him . . .
Iʼm not doing that. I almost did a man when we were trying to kill that dragon in Ireland and thought we had ten minutes to live. That was awkward.
His wife gave me a silk scarf which she SAYS will keep me from harm. Couldnʼt hurt, right. Iʼm basically fated anyway. Ugh, fate.
Forget the deal with her husband. Iʼm not giving him a scarf that could save me. If Mr Stevie Wonder believes in superstition, so can I.
Time to go meet my fate. I should have never cut off that guyʼs head. How did I not see this coming? Because itʼs completely unpredictable.
You think if you cut off someoneʼs head, heʼll die, but not in Camelot. Fucking Camelot. Maybe the scarf will help.
Heʼs gonna cut off my head now! If only I had heeded Sir Rae Kwonʼs timeless advice - protect ya neck. Ugh, Faugh my lyfe.
He didnʼt do anything, he just nicked me. Turns out it was the womanʼs husband. Weʼre leaving on peaceful terms.
Note to self: in the future, donʼt cut off anybodyʼs head if they might come back and cut off mine. Could be a trap!
The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn
by Mark Twain
@declineofwesternsiv
Seems like soon as a fella comes into a bit oʼ money, everyone comes out of the woodworks afterʼn it.
These ladies wants to sivilize me? More like reverse gold-dig my fame and fortune. @FencinTom: Get me outta here!
Escaped the house, but my drunkard Pap showed up. I reckon he is all kinds of bad for my development, locking me up in his cabin and all.
I just want to be free and have adventures and whatnot. Also, keep Papʼs hands off my damn money.
Faked my own death. Headinʼ down the Mississippi. Ran into the gold-diggerʼs former slave, Jim, trying to escape to Illinois.
Not sure how I feel about this. Donʼt think a slave ought to escape, on account of his being vital property and all.
Found a house floating on the river. Jim found a body but wouldnʼt tell me who it was. Probably not a big deal.
You know, the more I talk to Jim, the more I get to thinkinʼ, ʻBoy, these Negroes is just like other people. Maybe they shouldnʼt be owned.ʼ
Really though, what do you all think? Iʼm beginning to think that buyinʼ and sellinʼ peoples is immoral or something.
Tried out going in drag. Donʼt really want to talk about it. Long story short: being a lady is much more than a pretty dress.
I sure do live in a confounding hypocritical and silly world. This is why I ainʼt getting sivilized - cuz sivilization is crazier than me!
OH WTF! THEY SHOT MY ONLY FRIEND!! CANʼT TWEET, TOO UPSET. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK.
Picked up two guys. One says heʼs king of France, other an English duke. Weird. Why would royalty move to America to become scam artists?
On an unrelated note, I saw a man give a moving oration on the cowardice of a lynch mob. Had nothing to do with my adventure, but touching.
The goddamned king went and sold Jim! Some friend. I really thought I could trust the fellow, him being French and all.
In a pretty convenient twist of fate, it turns out Jim got sold to old Tom Sawyerʼs relations.
They think Iʼm Tom. Tom came - he says heʼs my brother. Tom has hatched an elaborate plan to free Jim.
Need to ponder slave morality one last time. I suppose, in the end, slavery is probably a bad idea, considering reparations and all.
Sprang Jim out. Heʼs free, Iʼm free, all seems well.
Oh wait. Jim was already free by order of the law, and Tom knew it. He just wanted to have an adventure. LOL.
Frankenstein
by Mary Shelley
@NotoriousDOC
I often think of the craziest thing I could get away with using my MD.
Digging up body parts and putting them together seems pretty out there. Maybe add a million volts of electricity?
Just did a bit-torrent-style grave robbery. My new ʻmanʼ will be an artful collage. Also, good conversation starter.
Itʼs alive! Iʼd better beat it over the head repeatedly with a fire extinguisher.
So sometimes you build something, and it gets away. Theyʼre gonna can me at the university if they find out about this.
Jeez, the monster is killing people. Wonder if this will be more professionally embarrassing than getting caught with a black hooker?
Iʼve just received word that my brother has been killed. Itʼs that lying bitch of a maid! Letʼs kill her!
Not the maid. It was the monster. He learned how to fool the whole CSI team by planting evidence. Heʼs good. I guess Iʼm responsible?
This killing thing is getting way out of control. You know, like a mistress you canʼt shut up?
Iʼm definitely not responsible for this.
When I put the body together it was all for the HaHa. I didnʼt think it would live. And why must an abomination kill as its first instinct?
Itʼs time to take a trip. Want to hear some really great, extended scenery descriptions? Iʼm an aspiring poet, so donʼt judge me.
D PromethianOG: Honestly dude, chill the fuck out bro. Stop killing shit. Iʼm getting fucked for it. Could lose my tenure.
Now Iʼm sick, and in jail. Are you happy?
Good, bail allowed. I had to use my card though. At least Iʼll get miles.
You know whoʼs kind of hot? My cousin. Iʼm gonna marry her.
Not fair. The monster just killed my cousin/wife. This is over. Either one of us, or both must join her.
I followed the assholeʼs trail to the North Pole. Maybe Santa will have some eggnog for me.
The monster I chased for all these months just killed me, then killed himself. And for irony, he did it on my pyre. FML.
All the Pretty Horses
by Cormac McCarthy
@AllthingsbeingEquus
My grandfather is dead. My father is broken by the war. I am too young to take over the ranch. It will be sold.
The Texas I love is dying. The frontier lies only across the border - to Mexico.
Rawlins says heʼll come with me. Our manly journey across the sparse landscapes of the south will serve as the stuff of American folklore.
Twitterature Page 10
