FOURTY-NINE (to define 'almost')
You may stop wringing your handkerchiefs, now, I'm fine. Though, this has given me something to think about; if I ever get sick of all of you and die spectacularly, after they make the play commemorating my life (well, the second one. Or, who knows at that point, maybe the third) I want a fantastic funeral.
Flowers.
A tomb. A giant tomb. An enormous tomb.
Professional mourners.
An order of monks dedicated to its continued upkeep.
Virgin sacrifices.
You know, the the works. George, you're in charge of making sure that happens, you'll probably be around in another couple centuries or so.
Also, checkup, everyone who I should spare two seconds on (you know who you are) please tell me your status in light of the most recent horror.
[Filtered from Cal | | Fantastically Unhackable | | Viewable To Everyone Else]
Lastly, everyone, this is Cal. If he tells you to call him anything else, it's a dirty, dirty lie; especially if it has anything to do with Shakespeare.
[/Filtered from Cal | | Fantastically Unhackable | | Viewable To Everyone Else]
Flowers.
A tomb. A giant tomb. An enormous tomb.
Professional mourners.
An order of monks dedicated to its continued upkeep.
Virgin sacrifices.
You know, the the works. George, you're in charge of making sure that happens, you'll probably be around in another couple centuries or so.
Also, checkup, everyone who I should spare two seconds on (you know who you are) please tell me your status in light of the most recent horror.
[Filtered from Cal | | Fantastically Unhackable | | Viewable To Everyone Else]
Lastly, everyone, this is Cal. If he tells you to call him anything else, it's a dirty, dirty lie; especially if it has anything to do with Shakespeare.
[/Filtered from Cal | | Fantastically Unhackable | | Viewable To Everyone Else]