Fart, what wind through yonder lighthouse breaks!
Oh no, he’s at it again…
Tis the beast and chariots do run!
Do run, run, do run, run. Or better yet, don’t.
Arise, fair spoon, and scrape this envious dish,
Wake me when it’s over.
It is my jerky, O, it is my nom!
Wait, did you just jump ahead like six lines?
You don’t expect him to start making sense now, do you?
She speaks yet she says nothing: what of that?
Okay, that’s like the actual quote. There’s something wrong here.
Okay, that’s it, you’re done now. Don’t make me come in there…
O, claw again, cat angel! for thou art
vainglorious to this night, being o’er my head
With thanks to Matt and Mandy for the loan of the extra cats.