“I want to speak to a manager,” the middle-aged woman said in her stern I-used-to-be-a-soccer-mom-ten-years-ago voice, looking down at me over the top of her Gucci reading glasses.
A wicked grin split across my face and the gates of Hell opened up behind me, releasing a gust of hot wind that whipped my apron around my body and forced the woman to shield her face. Demons came forth, dancing around in flames with songs of, “She wants to speak to a manager. Did you hear that? She wants to speak to a manager!” before erupting into earsplitting shrieks of laughter, none louder than my own cackling.
I took in the woman’s look of utter horror before my eyes rolled back into my head and I growled,
“I am the manager.”
Banksy sees Trump serving McDonald’s in the White House and throws his hat on the floor and jumps on it repeatedly, cursing like an old timey gold prospector.
With mine own tears I wash away my balm, with mine own hands I give away my crown
Richard II (2013) [pt. 1] [pt. 3]
i want to study at a British university
i will spell color as colour and use degrees celcius. i would watch Sherlock on BBC all night while drinking a cuppa tea with my flatmates. i’ll have fish and chips every day that’s worth 5 quid. i would go to gaff parties every night. i am also more likely to meet chavs, One Direction, Ed Sheeran and the Queen.
i wish i was british :(
Saying there are no aliens in the universe is like scooping a cup of water out of the ocean and saying there are no fish.
google search how to recognise what you’re feeling when it’s not super intense or the Void
i can have a little unrealistic romantic fantasy. as a treat
remember when u were like “man. too bad we couldnt have real gay rep in the shakespeare era….. so sad that we’re confined to subtext……. well, at least theres the coriolanus speeches………” and then u read marlowe’s edward ii and ur head got blown off ur shoulders
mostly dark academia shitposting - any pronouns
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