At the round table I will feast upon the scraps of humble beginnings while the king flings suffering from his trusty silver spoon encrusted with family jewels at the bumbling fools babbling satirically about the absurdity of his rules.

The royal court's still serving sentences to the remnants of the members of the Pent-up Armageddon Club getting their writing fingers bent up as penance, thus rendering them useless as wordsmiths so now the quill permanently sticks to the well all dried and crusty with no sense of purpose.

I fumble with the remote for control of this vice that tightens around my larynx, suppressing my sense of choice. I'm sorry, that's ad-vice suppressing my voice. No, I'm not mad, that's just my voice. You're really in no place to talk to anyone about respect, boys.

The movie is cringe-worthy, but the one playing out in the room is even  harder to watch. It's like an episode of Friends written by a monkey drinking scotch. Look at this! Look at me! Digest all of these empty calories! Check this post! It's super funny! Watch this video! I can stream it to the T.V! Look at the screen! Look at the screen! Look at the screen! My life is a meme!

It's taking every ounce of strength I have in me not to ******* scream.
Your plot is spoiled and your scheme is boiling over.
She said what he said that she said that he said that she's dead in his bed and I just can't pretend that it's okay to breathe
When you excuse your actions with pop-culture morality and plausible deniability.