Monday, May 15, 2017
A Curmudgeon and a Termagant Walk Into A Bar
Termagant: O, it offends me to the soul to hear a robustious fellow tear a passion to tatters, to very rags, to split the ears of the groundlings, who (for the most part) are capable of nothing but inexplicable dumb shows and noise. I would have such a fellow whipp'd for not associating me with being a true vixen.
Crumudgeon: Swear thou art honest, Vixen! Heaven doth truly know thou art falsity jostling others for dominance, with brute power the final factor of your raging encounter.
T: It is the very error of your moon that brings you nearer to a state of lament, where you will most assuredly find your incredulous thinking!
C: Command you not of governing cosmic peculiarities. We lay traps for the likes of you.
T: Those may be your final words.
Why have you grievance with me, surely the question of your own motivation is sufficient without quirk or injury to my blessed tragedy.
C: I refuse to be drawn into your inquiries. I shall remain steadfast to my impenetrable resolve.
T: So striking it is that you invite it here for examination?
C: Don't try to inquire further! Be content with the knowledge you have.
T: Tush, never tell me. Mock me not. Trifles light as air are to the jealous confirmations strong. As proofs holy writ.
C: As prime as goats or hot as monkeys!
T: Just order the scotch, already.