PANICK! - Manufacture of Confectionery - Ghastly Coincidence of Orthographie - Poesie - Naked Fear
Nott bankynge on a dede bodie asleep in my parlour thys Monday afternoon, I panickd at firste. I managd to restraine myselfe, though. I even made a small cake for myselfe that helpd me forget what had happend, icynge it in four different colours and writing Nashe. Unfortunaely, the distraction of MURDER was so greate thatte I misspelld my Name for
D E A T H E
On the rainbowe. I started to eat the cake up faste for feare. My mynd was flamynge wyth invencioun but I had no means to deploy it for I was sicke to see the body itselfe. I pacd all nyghte in the kytchen where half the rainbow cake stood reading
E A T H
Whych my clevere braine quickly arrangd into
H E A T
And I took thatte for the fires of Hell and the endless cutlasses that rush through a man all day by them. The lyghtes of my kitchen seemd lonely and yellow against the darkling garden outside. I sweare thatte not a second passd that nyght whenne I didde not wishe I had never beene to the librarie nor stole the booke of Blacke Arts that now stoode greenly by my sinke nor thoughte to kill Ebeneezer for the sake of it. More ambitiously, very quicklie I beganne to wysh I hadde never seene Sophia the Mother-of-Twain nor fallen so muche in love wythe her incoherent style of parenting whenne I saw her swyngynge her childe in amongst the colourfulle balls. I cursd her persoun also for her evyl scheme that forbade our evere havynge a meanyngfulle relationshippe because it made her a villain and I a hero. But how thatte balance hadde been unstitchd today! What a bloudy failure thys Nashes lyfe has come to! I wrote a poesy in extreme payne.
In kitchen by nyght, wyth mappes unspeakable
Nashe plots a course to forfeit hys handes.
Where thorns hang his skinne up on Sophia’s steeple
Nashe stores hys heart by in a hessian bagge.
To hys hopeless future has he everything subscribd,
Yet Nashe gains a seede of torment to plante.
For when the spring shines, then the soil provides
An earnest of hopelessness yet to advance.
And where the seede wyll sproute, Nashe wyll be couchd
And hys heartlesse blakke flowers, wyll spit the summer oute.
Havynge completed thys worke of pulynge sufferynge, I betooke myselfe to bedde and wept a good deale until the sunne came in to batter me. Preparynge to sett oute as usual to buy a liver for breakfast I quite forgot my deede, my bloudy countenaunce or the state of my clothes but fortunately resignd myself at the last minute to weetabix, that sat sadly in their pinkening milke.
-Where is all this bloud coming from? I demanded.
A litel was trickling round the doore. Gettynge up, I armd myselfe wyth my spoone and brandishd it before me as I followd the streem up the hallway and into the parlour.
-‘SBLOOD!
was the only word I could muster strong enough to express my horror upon reacquaintance wyth the bloody carcasse of Ebeneezer the librarian, lying wyth hys hede in the fireplace. More terrible thynges I think perhaps I shall never see. I ran for the kitchen and instantly began makynge anothere cake when I realisd I was deepe in Denial.
Thankfully, I spotted the grene book of Blakke Arts on the drainynge boarde. I putte on the rubber gloves, for the booke was fragile, and beganne to read.
D E A T H E
On the rainbowe. I started to eat the cake up faste for feare. My mynd was flamynge wyth invencioun but I had no means to deploy it for I was sicke to see the body itselfe. I pacd all nyghte in the kytchen where half the rainbow cake stood reading
E A T H
Whych my clevere braine quickly arrangd into
H E A T
And I took thatte for the fires of Hell and the endless cutlasses that rush through a man all day by them. The lyghtes of my kitchen seemd lonely and yellow against the darkling garden outside. I sweare thatte not a second passd that nyght whenne I didde not wishe I had never beene to the librarie nor stole the booke of Blacke Arts that now stoode greenly by my sinke nor thoughte to kill Ebeneezer for the sake of it. More ambitiously, very quicklie I beganne to wysh I hadde never seene Sophia the Mother-of-Twain nor fallen so muche in love wythe her incoherent style of parenting whenne I saw her swyngynge her childe in amongst the colourfulle balls. I cursd her persoun also for her evyl scheme that forbade our evere havynge a meanyngfulle relationshippe because it made her a villain and I a hero. But how thatte balance hadde been unstitchd today! What a bloudy failure thys Nashes lyfe has come to! I wrote a poesy in extreme payne.
In kitchen by nyght, wyth mappes unspeakable
Nashe plots a course to forfeit hys handes.
Where thorns hang his skinne up on Sophia’s steeple
Nashe stores hys heart by in a hessian bagge.
To hys hopeless future has he everything subscribd,
Yet Nashe gains a seede of torment to plante.
For when the spring shines, then the soil provides
An earnest of hopelessness yet to advance.
And where the seede wyll sproute, Nashe wyll be couchd
And hys heartlesse blakke flowers, wyll spit the summer oute.
Havynge completed thys worke of pulynge sufferynge, I betooke myselfe to bedde and wept a good deale until the sunne came in to batter me. Preparynge to sett oute as usual to buy a liver for breakfast I quite forgot my deede, my bloudy countenaunce or the state of my clothes but fortunately resignd myself at the last minute to weetabix, that sat sadly in their pinkening milke.
-Where is all this bloud coming from? I demanded.
A litel was trickling round the doore. Gettynge up, I armd myselfe wyth my spoone and brandishd it before me as I followd the streem up the hallway and into the parlour.
-‘SBLOOD!
was the only word I could muster strong enough to express my horror upon reacquaintance wyth the bloody carcasse of Ebeneezer the librarian, lying wyth hys hede in the fireplace. More terrible thynges I think perhaps I shall never see. I ran for the kitchen and instantly began makynge anothere cake when I realisd I was deepe in Denial.
Thankfully, I spotted the grene book of Blakke Arts on the drainynge boarde. I putte on the rubber gloves, for the booke was fragile, and beganne to read.
posted by duncanjbrown at 8:42 pm
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