Hélas, There Is No Mercutio In Twelfth Night

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A/N: So, we're back. I (M), don't have much to say, except welcome to AirForceThree, our new, joint account!

M, J & P

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Capítulo Diez: Hélas, There Is No Mercutio In Twelfth Night

Benedict Cumberbatch’s Face Is A Niche Market Compass…?

J: admiring her new geometry set Wow! It even has a compass!

M: Your face is a compass. Of ugliness.

J: That doesn’t even make sense, M.

M: cackles madly

J: And now you’re going to say my face doesn’t make sense?

M: No. That would be unoriginal.

J: Ah. I see. Your face is a sticker.

M: Yeah? Your face is a NICHE MARKET.

J: Oh. Like Sherlock (note from M: nobody, not even J, knows how niche markets and Sherlock are related). And following, Mr. Cumberbatch. HA! You unwittingly compared me to Benedict (everyone has a crush on Benedict Cumberbatch, which is why J is happy)!

M: Well, unless you wish to be compared to a male with strange eyes and high cheekbones, I don’t see why you’re pleased with yourself.

J: lacking a comeback, and therefore abruptly changing subject Do you know what ‘llamarse’ means if you pronounce it with an ‘l’ instead of a ‘y’ (a double ‘l’ in Spanish is pronounced as a ‘y, and ‘llamarse’ is the verb ‘to be called’)

M: Llamas! sings song about llamas under her breath

J: You lick yourself.

M: You just want to rival my ‘f**k yourself with a frying pan’ comeback. Let me tell you hon, you are FAILING. abruptly changing subject I think P’s finally… you know. whistles and circles her finger around her temple

J: Yes, M. Am I agreeing with you here? Yes, yes I am. GET OFF, P!

M: frowns P isn’t on you. I’m sitting between the both of you.

J: She…touched me.

P: singing  She wants to touch me – OOH! She wants to love me – OOH! She’ll never leave me – OOH! OO-OO-O-OOH! stops Guess why they sing ‘OOH!’?! Think what could be happening… grins perversely

J: I love that song! But that doesn’t stop it being sick, P. Gosh, I’m already in love.

M: Nobody cares about your dreary little love life, J. Stop being so self centered.

END

Hélas, Je Me Suis Transfigure Mon Folder

M : Hélas, je me suis transfigure mes pieds. (Alas, I have transfigured my feet)

J: looking at M’s feet under the desk They look perfectly ordinary to me.

M: Yeah, well-stops and frowns How would you know?! They’re in my shoes.

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