Ooh, yeah, stroke that vertical.
If loving you is wrong, I don’t want to be justified.
I like the way your extenders slope.
Your e’s have the most exquisite eyes.
If I may be so bold…
My paragraph or yours?
You’ve got one mean line.
I could stare at the curves of your breves all day long.
Let’s get diacritical.
Is that your o-face?
How’s your punctuation hanging?
I’m in the mood to interrobang.
I would adore you with serifs or sans.
Your CamelCase is showing.
I want to touch your small caps.
How low is your baseline?
I’m a dingbat for your love.
Care to get your swash on?
Your beauty punchcuts me.
Wanna try reverse-contrast?
© 2015 Tony Vicory.
Act V, Scene V. An arena.
Enter Face, a professional wrestler. His opponent, Heel, waits within the ring.
Villain, thou wears the gold of champions,
Which once did rest upon my worthy waist!
I name thee thief, for valor won it not,
But base deceit this hallowed ring disgraced!
A thief, am I? Then bitter is thy name,
Or fool, to think thy acrid tongue can wound!
This victor’s belt is mine, with glory earned;
Thy claim and challenge both are rightly doomed!
The doom is thine, our contest shall agree,
And hardest lesson thou will shortly learn:
By tricks, thou wrested my beloved prize,
But skill will guarantee its fair return!
Have at me then with all thy vaunted strength
And break thyself upon the gates of hell!
This devil aches to make his powers known!
Official, come and ring the starting bell!
Enter the Official, a referee. He signals for the match to begin.
Face and Heel do battle.
I gift thee now a short-arm elbow smash!
And I repay a chest marked red with chops!
Reversed, have I; take this, a spinning knee!
‘Tis countered quick by three atomic drops!
Submit then, knave, to crossface chicken wing!
Fie! Break it! Stand! Feel powerbombs of pain!
Into the ropes, I swing thee; meet my boot!
A chair of steel, I grasp, to rock thy brain!
Enter the Chorus, ringside commentators.
And so they rage, opponents evermore,
To entertain the host of watchers wide;
Though some may dub their war a mummer’s farce,
Bard Shakespeare staged more fictious fare beside.
In other words, professional wrestling is legit, y’all.
© 2014 Tony Vicory.
- As soon as you arrive, ask if Choco Tacos® are being served. If they’re not, and they won’t be, loudly shout, “What sort of party is this?!” and walk out. From then on, everyone will know the sort of hills you’re willing to die on.
- Wander around while staring intently at the carpet. If anyone tries to stop you, simply mumble, “I have to locate the crystal.” If this doesn’t afford you a wide berth, nothing will.
- Take a keen interest in the decor, because (a) it will give the impression that you’re busy and (b) bric-a-brac doesn’t ask you how work is going.
- Visit the bathroom often, because the more you do, the more likely it is that people will avoid it and you. This is the very definition of a win-win.
- If someone engages you, respond to everything they say with, “I can’t believe you just said that to me.” Sooner or later, they’ll pick up on the subtext.
- Be the ass end of a pantomime horse. Note: this requires a partner and is usually reserved for costume parties, but with a tweak here and there, who knows?
- Bring a ventriloquist’s dummy with you. People will give you space. (This works equally well with dolls, nunchucks, and the works of Ayn Rand.)
- Go to sleep. This is especially effective if done in the host’s bedroom. Warning: you may be asked to explain yourself before getting the boot.
- Wear a name tag that reads, “@#$% off.” Assuming your fellow partygoers are literate, this should do the talking for you.
- Don’t go. Problem solved.
© 2014 Tony Vicory.