Twitterature

by Alexander Aciman

  My husband Clifford came back from war a cripple. Wheelchair. He canʼt get wood anymore :(

  My manʼs deciding to be a little douche and start a writing career. Heʼs pretty successful, but Iʼm pretty horny.

  All his intello friends are coming over all the time. Borrrrrring. All they do is talk about books.

  Iʼm having an affair with one of my husbandʼs writer friends.

  All he did during sex was talk to me about feelings and intellectual things. Does he think women like this? I just wanna fuck!

  Our farmhand is so aloof and Romantic. I wanna get on that.

  Weʼre becoming friends. Heʼs reluctant to talk to me because of ʻclass differencesʼ. What a pussy.

  We had sex in a shack. We shacked up, har har har. Iʼve got plenty of sex puns left, donʼt worry!

  We had sex again on the floor of a forest. We shared an orgasm. Cum together, right now, over me.

  This is what I want. No brains, no talking, no sensitivity. Just str8 up fucking all day every day.

  Iʼm def preggers with his baby.

  My lover, Oliver, and I have such a purely physical bond. With bondage.

  Oliverʼs bat-shit crazy wife came back and started talking smack about him.

  He got fired from my familyʼs property for the rumors his wife spread. Iʼm leaving my husband!

  He wonʼt give me a divorce. I would go Lorena Bobbitt on him if he had any use for his dick.

  Iʼm so miserable. All I wish is that one day Oliver and I be together.

  I wonder what Oliver is doing right now . . . probably plowing. I guess thatʼs his job.

  Jane Eyre

  by Charlotte Brontë

  @ToEyreIsHuman

  I wish my parents had died impressively. Like Harry Potter; that kidʼs got one hell of an orphan story.

  I have to live with my aunt. Total beo-tch. This is like Cinderella. Except no fairy godmother.

  My aunt is sending me to a crap boarding school. Itʼs like the ones you see in commercials for Save the Children on the History Channel.

  The education is legit. Like we read books, but kids are dying of illness. This place is grimier than a hookerʼs snatch.

  So apparently by not getting swine flu or TB I qualified for a teaching position?

  Just got offered a job as a governess for a caddy single dad who needs to change womanizing ways. This would make a great Hugh Grant flick.

  Romance, romance, this poppa Rochester wants to get in my pants!

  Weʼre in love. And to be married. This house is like a matchbox though, it keeps setting on fire. I wonder why?

  This strange man has a secret about Rochester. He says that Rochesterʼs got another wife locked in the attic!

  There is legitimately a crazy black chick running around up here like sheʼs playing a game of fucking animal charades.

  LOL, her name is Bertha. I guess we know who was starting all those fires now though.

  He says he was high in Jamaica and wanted to get tribal one night and got hitched. Havenʼt heard that one before.

  Iʼm leaving. All this is much too crazy for me.

  I ran away to a farm. This St John fellow wants to sleep with me, I think.

  These farmhands are my cousins? And my dad left a huge inheritance for us. How convenient! Deus ex machina, win!

  Iʼm going back to Rochester!

  When I found him he was sitting in a pile of ashes crying. Heʼs missing an arm and is blind.

  The Kunta Kinte pyro bitch is dead. Maaaaawwwage!

  Aliceʼs Adventures in Wonderland

  by Lewis Carroll

  @AliceInTheSkyWithDiamonds

  Like many book characters, Iʼm pretty bored. Oh! A white rabbit! Just like in The Matrix. That movie was pretty dope, if youʼre on drugs.

  Down into the rabbit hole I go! Ohh, thatʼs rich. I feel like Neo.

  Is it OK to drink from a mysterious bottle thatʼs been opened? What if there are Ruffies in it?

  I donʼt know whatʼs going on, but in a typically feminine manner Iʼll allow confusion and being flustered to make me cry up a storm.

  Am I still the same little girl that I was before? I feel like my ʻselfʼ is being deconstructed. And in HD, to boot.

  I asked a mouse how to get dry from all my tears. He gave me a dry history lesson. People are purposefully confusing my words.

  Iʼm in the rabbitʼs house. Hereʼs more mysterious juice. Should I drink it again? Oh what the hell. Hope I wonʼt be sore afterward.

  Why are people throwing rocks at me like Iʼm Mary Magdalene? Iʼm a little girl, not a biblical prostitute . . . er, Christʼs wife.

  I found a stoner Arab caterpillar. He made fun of me. Oh yeah? At least Iʼm not three inches tall with a case of the munchies.

  At a tea party with a crackhead hat man. Heʼs a schizoid. Insanity is part of his public image. After all, he put ʻmadʼ in his name.

  Sound has become distorted.

  This land is terrorized by the Queen of Hearts. Sheʼs a card. Wouldnʼt it be funny if I just destroyed her army by shuffling them?

  Iʼm in trouble. Iʼm not sure what I did. This is the worst day ever. I need a drink. Not from an unmarked bottle, though, no more of that.

  Now Iʼm on trial. Another worst day ever. The queen stole my integrity and made me a felon. If I knew magic, Iʼd make her disappear.

  If only I could grow large and crush them beneath me. Wait. I feel so strangely powerful, Iʼm huge. This courthouse is going down.

  Oh, my sister is here. Sheʼs waking me for tea-time. Good, Iʼm home again.

  A grinning cat, a tweeked-out hatter? A sadistic queen and a terrifying baby? This is the kinda shit that sends people to years of therapy.

  God that was just insane. I need another adventure like that like I need a hole in the head.

  The Tempest

  by William Shakespeare

  @Lolspero

  Do you know what years on an island with a teenage daughter and a man-slave will do to you? No, not that.

  Do you know hard it was dealing with that girl? She still thinks her period is a little man dying inside of her. Well, I guess it kind of is.

  Isnʼt it conveniently ironic that all the people who ruined me have crashed on this very island? No! I did it with magic!

  Oh my. This whole landing on the island plot is not going as planned. Instead itʼs a comedy of errors.

  My slave is hanging out with a band of alcoholics. Heʼs drunk. This is a mess of post-prom proportions.

  Of course, my daughter says sheʼs in love with some rockstar prince who promises love in return. Sheʼs a duchess, not a groupie!

  It seems I still have semblance of control over this sprite, Ariel. Isnʼt that a girlʼs name, like the mermaid? He hates that joke.

  Nothingʼs really going on, is it? This story is still pretty genius though. A story about nothing. Like Seinfeld.

  Caliban is way drunker than before and is running around shouting about liberty. This is why you donʼt give slaves booze.

  My daughter is very upset. She wants to marry. I fear sheʼll fall into drugs and adultery and come crawling back.

  Actually, now that I see them together, I think that they are really in love. Unless this kid is a really good actor.

  Kids and their devil music. Who knows anymore?

  The BEST thing would be for more terrible things to happen, for the situation to deteriorate significantly. Thatʼs just what I need.

  I canʼt deal with this nonsense anymore, I need an Advil and a Tums. Letʼs just put this to bed. THATʼS WHAT SHE SAID.

  Today I told my daughter she could marry the rockstar kid.

  I find it bizarre how now the world seems so frightening, and all the past matters not, and holds no bearing on anything.

  These bricks, the sand, will all be gone one day. Time is so fugitive, and alas, so is life. Toss me in the shallows before I get too deep.

  I shall cast this book of evil spells into the ocean.

 
; Come on guys, give me a round of applause, wasnʼt I just amazing. Set me free, people. STAGE DIVE!!!! Catch me, please?

  Madame Bovary

  by Gustave Flaubert

  @TheRealDesperateHousewife

  I met a doctor today. He fixed my fatherʼs leg. Heʼs coming back tomorrow, and the next day. He seems very dedicated to my father.

  Suddenly, his wife says he canʼt come anymore. Why? Itʼs not like heʼs attracted to my father.

  Oh, wait. I totally know whatʼs going on. Itʼs like in those Harlequin novels I read.

  The doctorʼs wife is dead. Soon heʼll be at my doorstep. Yeah, weʼre married now. Iʼm a visionary. I should go to Vegas with this power.

  Heʼs a good husband, does everything right, but heʼs such a putz. He bumped into a bookshelf and caused a cascade of 200 books and an urn.

  My sadness is bothersome. He says I need to change scenery. That will help like a trip to Italy cures TB. What I need is a good poking.

  With child! I need a baby like I need a hole in the head. I definitely donʼt love this baby. Watch me go coat hanger on it.

  What a drag it is getting old. Trying drugs. Also met a hot law student in town. He shares the same tastes as I do.

  I wonder if men sometimes agree with your tastes just to get you into bed. Canʼt prove it, though. Never mind.

  I canʼt do it! I must play the good housewife. My sense of morality is focused on duty rather than pleasure. Like in Revolutionary Road?

  At least Iʼm a good person, at least I did what is right. At least I still have my virtue. Iʼm so miserable!

  Today a man brought someone to my husband. He gave me the look. You know, the ʻI want to get naked with youʼ look.

  My husband agreed to let me go riding with the man. The hell with virtue.

  You know what really turns me on? Sending filthy letters to my lover that my husband might see. Itʼs risky, but really hot.

  This is it: Iʼm going to leave my husband for my lover.

  My lover doesnʼt want to run away, and complicate our lives. Was I just used for sex? Iʼm so terribly ill. Should I turn to God?

  Iʼve recovered all my strength. God? Turn to God??? What was I thinking?

  My life is awful. Iʼm going shopping. I want to buy a whole bunch on credit that I canʼt afford, and then declare bankruptcy.

  Nobody will help me pay off my husbandʼs debt. Not even the men I slept with. Iʼll eat poison and solve everybodyʼs problems. Namely, mine.

  Maybe I should have just left that poor doctor and his wife alone. Or been a good wife. W/e.

  Death in Venice

  by Thomas Mann

  @GustavaelJackson

  Like the elevator business, being a writer has its ups and downs. At least I made my last name sound aristocratic. That should get me laid.

  Iʼm in Venice. Thereʼs a really old gent with make-up, fake teeth, and a wig hanging out with kids. Gross.

  Thank God I get to stay in the nicest hotel in Venice. My wife just died. I keep having these weird encounters with men. Iʼm probably gay.

  While walking in the hotel lobby, saw a little kid dressed in a sailorʼs uniform. Went from six to midnight. No Viagra needed.

  Is it creepy that Iʼm following this kid in the hotel? Heʼd tell me if he felt weird, right? Should I buy him some candy to earn his trust?

  I feel so separated from my desires. I think the best plan would be to dress like Michael Jackson and wander around Venice at night.

  Thereʼs a health warning out about shellfish. Maybe the Jews were right.

  Forget the Jews. I think the shellfish disease is like my boner for this kid. Yeah, that makes no sense.

  The Italians say that the heat is the health risk. The Brits say itʼs cholera. Iʼm definitely listening to the inventors of penicillin.

  I had a wet dream about the boy. Itʼs time to start plan B: heavy, heavy stalking.

  I worry that his parents have noticed me. They might issue an Amber alert if the child goes missing. Look out for gondola and child.

  A barber convinced me to get this ridiculous haircut.

  I must follow the child around town. Iʼm wearing some pretty, pretty rad clothes, if I may say so myself.

  God I feel like shit. This fruit needs some fruit. Where the strawberries at?

  Does this Polack kid even know who I am? Iʼm a big-time writer. He should be bowing to me. Literally.

  I went to the beach and saw the boy Iʼm obsessed with fighting another kid. He got his ass kicked.

  Heʼs walking so tranquilly yet lustfully across the beach. Heʼs so beautiful. Heʼs so sensual. Look at that move: the moonwalk.

  Heʼs staring back at me. Heʼs calling to me. Time to get my game on.

  Suddenly I feel sort of weird. Maybe I ought to sit back down for a mome—

  The Three Musketeers

  by Alexandre Dumas

  @dʼArtsDaMAN

  Itʼs time to go off into the world and follow my secondary dream and become a Musketeer. Apparently Jedis donʼt actually exist.

  My father wrote me a rec letter to a captain. I lost it though, walking through a dodgy neighborhood. I bet those goddamn gypsies took it.

  I met the captain today. He kinda treated me like a retard for losing the letter. I told him it was gypsies.

  Uh, I may have gotten myself in a bit of a jam. Three Musketeers want to duel. Maybe I can take them?

  Oh thank god Cardinal Richelieu banned duels. Almost died. The men want my help to kill the cardinalʼs men. Success=street-cred. Respekt.

  I moved into my new digs today. Landlord is a grumpy old man. But his wife is fiiiinnne. I bet she married for the money.

  Iʼm in love with this woman. The thought of her husbandʼs saggy balls on her enrages me. Ah Constance, I dream of you at night.

  Anne DʼAutriche gave her diamonds to a duke. She could be in trouble if anyone finds out. Affairs are dangerous things.

  I have to go on a diamond heist with my boyz. Athos is riding shotgun in the carriage.

  The cardinal doesnʼt want us to have the stones. The musketeers decided to come though because they canʼt resist an adventure.

  This cardinal is an evil, evil man. I bet he molests children. Time to start that rumor. Hope it sticks.

  He kidnapped Constance! That fucker. My crew is gonna settle this.

  Uh, so, uh, yeah. The rescue mission got complicated. Someone tried to kill me. Anybody know the best way to get rid of a body?

  Apparently chopping off the head and dipping it in lye really works. Anybody read Dorian Gray or watched the Sopranos?

  Anytime I go on an adventure with the Three Musketeers it turns out pretty hilariously. Bodies. They are serious little fuckers.

  Porthos loves hookers though. Athos just wants to kick it on a farm.