Not at ALL What You Thought

Monday, April 23, 2007

LisaCurl's Curse

A friend reminded me today of this here thang, which is brilliantly gorgeous:

Forasmuch as thou hast offended me …

Mayest thou stub thy toe; yea, most grievously mayest thou stub it.

May the stars of heaven observe thee, and snicker. May thy knees swell mightily, even unto the size of watermelons. Mayest thou lisp.

May the telephone marketers of all the world be as a buzzing perpetually in thine ears. Mayest thou be the butt of the humour of small children.

Mayest thou develop a slight, nagging itch in thy crotch. As thou scratchest it, mayest thou realise that thou art being televised live to an audience of millions.

May typhoons strike thy home; may meteorites strike thy pets; and may hiccoughs strike thine aunt.

To the utmost ends of the world, yea, even unto Pittsburgh, may thy creditors pursue thee. If thou hast no creditors, mayest thou acquire creditors. May thy creditors be seven feet tall, and weigh two hundred and fifty pounds, and be named “Bo.”

Let the flowers that delight thy nose wither. May thy toaster always overcook thy bread. May thy cheese develop mould, and thy beans small, suspicious-looking hairs. May thy gherkins leak.

An hundred years after thy death, yea, even a thousand, may people hear thy name and think, “Verily, he was a right rutabaga.” May Congress pass laws against thee.

Drat thee.

Dear Jesus, my brother, remind us daily of the power of our words.


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