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  attitudechicka  
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Still getting calm and calamity confused.

*I make slice of life comics about my own life. Most of my comics are word-for-word conversations. Most.*

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by attitudechicka
10-07-03
Flourish of cornets. Enter Portia, with the Prince of Morocco and their trains.
There are three caskets over there/ Choose from them but beware/ To win my hand/ You must understand/ Only one will hold my care.
The first is made of pure gold/ "What men desire" the fortune told/ The silver serves/ For what I deserve/ The third is dull and old
He unlocks the golden casket.
Choose with your heart, good prince/ If you should find this evidence/ My photo is tucked inside/ Then I will be your bride/ And we shall live happily ever since.
I choose not the one of lead/ Nor the one with a silver bed/ Efficacious is the gold/ And from there my fortune told/ You are surely fucking with my head.
Exuent Morocco with train.
This all gave me such a fright/ Looks like my hand will bed me tonight/ I will sleep alone/ For it is a scroll/ Not a photo in my sight.
If only your heart led your way/ Instead of greed seen here today/ You only want money/ And not a honey/ You're a loser so go away.
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