Partly Cloudy, 64°
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? No, thou art acting like a huge wench right now, and pissing me off.
Thou art aware how thou hast betrayed me. Thee stoodeth me up at Blue Room, and for that thou shalt never been forgiv’n. Thou sweater is lacking taste, and it dost not match thine gaskins. I shall nev’r again compare thee to a summer’s day, thou art more similar to a winters frost, or a huge arsehole.
Thou art the most colossal wench I have ever had the displeasure of know-
ing. Thee text me too much at which hour I’m asleep, but then at which hour I am awaketh thee apparitions me. I shall nev’r again compare thee to summ’r, thou art m’re liketh a wart cov’r’d toad.
Thou hast treated me as common swine, though it is you, I believeth, with the p’rsonality of a ingraft farm animal. Thou hast betrayed me for the final time, I shalt never agai’n give thee a chance to act like a monstrous wench in mine own visage.
At press time, thou were behaving ast though thou were the a rose among thorns, instead of a villain amongst commoners.
