if it happened at all, it happened like that

little-niggah-sugar:

hi-def-doritos:

amityravenclawelf:

dragonpuppies:

Elizabethan Peasant 1: Look yonder! Someone has writ upon that ceiling that thou art most easily gulled!

Elizabethan Peasant 2: More fool they, for I cannot read.

Elizabethan Peasant 1: *sighing, lowers his visage unto his palm*

Elizabethan Peasant 1: Lo, hast thou learned to read?

Elizabethan Peasant 2: Verily, and to compose as well.

Elizabethan Peasant 1: With haste, then, how is the word “i cup” composed?

Elizabethan Peasant 1: what ho, I know a sporting jest! What art thou when thou art a peasant and art occupied in a privy?

Elizabethan Peasant 2: I wist not, but certain am I that thou shalt tell me speedily.

Elizabethan Peasant 1: Most verily, thou art a peon.

Elizabethan Child: Father, I have not yet broken fast and am filled with pangs of hunger.

Elizabethan Father: Hail, Filled With Pangs Of Hunger! Mine own name is Wybert.

jumpingjacktrash:

idiopathicsmile:

“That well-dressed fellow in the corner? We call him the Gentleman Thief. Why, just last year, he single-handedly stole more than 40 gentlemen.”

shadowraiku:

lochnessmonsterofficial:

lochnessmonsterofficial:

Trying to communicate with my future morning self is like setting an elaborate trap for an unsuspecting zombie like

if I put my phone alarm on full volume and vibrate and move the charger so I can put it on this out-of-reach metal surface, I can startle her awake. Probably. Then if I securely duct tape this caffeinated chocolate bar to it, it will provide a challenging situation and make her mushy little brain work extra hard to figure out how to turn the alarm off. Then she might go for the chocolate while she’s turning off the loud noises. With luck, she’ll consume the whole thing. 20 minutes of bliss then boom, physiology kicks in and the caffeine reaches her brain. Gentlemen, this just might work.

It didn’t work.

A tragedy in two acts