So keep in mind we are complete losers and have too much free time. We take pride in showing you the things we say to each other.
This is a Shakespearian battle between my friend Elizabeth and I.
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Elizabeth: (Insert thine heavy beat)
Thou believe I can be defeated?
Thy shit ain't really needed!
I'm a Pegasus, I fly!
Every day I toucheth the sky!
I have a natural rhyming talent,
I don't even have to try.
Me: A challenge of rhymes?
I have nothing but time.
Bring the rivalry of two
Because it all started with you.
Though this be madness, yet method is in it
That it comes to this when gracious be not given.
A pegasus on it's knees is as noble as a finch
Don't fret your mind, give up to my wits.
Elizabeth: Your rhyme is adept I must admit,
But musn't be mistaken for wit.
Oh, listen to this misfit.
Take a second, steal a moment
For it will be a mental treasure I transmit.
Sexually.
Me: Do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe?
The rhymes you betray hold no reason for hype
I will speak daggers and use none at all
To watch helpless attempts and see thus fall
What a piece of work is you!
How noble is the reason that you thinks you can defeat me with little threats and tight treason.
Elizabeth: Treason? Threat?
These are things you will regret.
Perhaps nay.
But anyway,
My rhymes are never in disarray.
Me: More than kin and less than quite kind
You may think thou is winning but the gold has been mine
You abilities are too infant-like for doing much alone.
Now return to thy salvitude you callst a faithful home.
Elizabeth: A peasants call doth thou cry?
Now takith thine rhymes home to dye,
different colors to hide thy shame,
in knowing that i, Elizabeth, has thine fame.
Me: Fame thou sayest
Alas You shall repent
To be burned in an instant that you will sooneth not forget
Forgiveness in nature is not prescribed
I'll sooner cease when I leave you to dry
Thine eyes hold no mercy
And your soul is mines to keep
Sweetest dear Elizabeth I will soon make you weep.
Elizabeth: Hold thy tongue for thee shall soon reckon
That your face is tender, my hand it beckons,
This fight had ended before it began, slaying you is mine plan.
Clad in my lyrical armor, you look naught but a farmer,
clasped in one hand a sword, the other a flagon
ill slay you methodically, alike to a dragon.
Me: My my thy skill is evident
Though we play for keeps
Surrender now and there will be no crunch of petty brisk fall leaves
Bringeth all evidence to the table now I say
This twisted game of words have not brought me any such dismay.
A feast will be arranged as I brisk thou on my cooker
I don't despise saying you would look much better as my hooker.
Elizabeth: time for a shower and then bed. To be continued at dawn!!
Me: Be prepared I will not take this lightly. You will soon be administered to something ever so unsightly.
G'night.
Elizabeth: AWAKEN YE FOUL BEAST!
Emerge from thine bedchambers and feed on this feast.
A banquet, I offer, for your ears be created by me, a verbal artiste.
O, the morn hath come, bringing renewed breath to our battle,
I shall make you my steed, ride you with a saddle,
Just to insure thou art not left out. Which is really quite silly,
You're more of a filly-
So young, so bold, filled with ill-placed confidence
You grossly over estimate your vocabulary's significance.
I shall win, as no coincidence
I present to you my dominance
Despite thine persistence
Nor thy insistence
Stop with this resistance
And start your admittance
That I'm better in this instance
Bow down to my eminence
Or I shall cease thine existence!
Me: Excuse me.
Oh no. No way. I'm NOT going down like this.
Awake I must be to thrash the words you say.
Away you three inch fool!
I observe you from above.
If you stand tall on your toes would you be no higher than my thumb?
I will beat this shamelessly without dirtying my hands.
By swishing out such driven purpose you call a gracious plan.
Bow down to you?
My apologies I cannot reach down to that level.
The height equivalent you posses is no larger than a pebble.
Take the babble
And thine saddle
O, For you have lost the battle.
Elizabeth: Damn you.
Me: Already damned.
Elizabeth: Valid point.
YOU ARE READING
The Shakespeare Wars
HumorThis is two friends with remarkable wit trying to outdo each other prematurely in Shakespearean tone and text. Warning: We are not professionals and most of what we say is stupid and petty. We find it hilarious. This was not a serious battle. Our sk...