Twitterature (8 page)

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Authors: Alexander Aciman

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Faith shmaith: How could an inexperienced farmer-slave-runaway survive when the professional sailors drowned?
 
 
Hmm. No, I think itʼs best to become really religious - and then raid the boat for everything thatʼs inside it.
The best possible solution now is to make a pro and con list about the island. Pro: Iʼm not dead. Con: I might as well be.
 
Incredible. Everything one might EVER need to survive on an island was in that ship. Guns, food, bread, books, you name it.
 
What if there are cannibals on the island? No, probably not. But what if there are? Nah, there ainʼt . . . SHIT. A FOOTPRINT. CANNIBALS!
 
Hereʼs whatʼs odd: Iʼve been here so many years and havenʼt thought about pussy once. Go ahead, call me introspective.
 
Youʼd think in a diary about solitude Iʼd write something emotional, but nah, thatʼd be so emo. Iʼm not in the mood.
 
Iʼve rescued a cannibal. Iʼll call him Friday, because after all this time I still know what day it is, and canʼt think of anything better.
 
Friday, you shall be my slave, you owe me your life. Do what I say. Donʼt bite me. Arenʼt you glad I found you?
 
Hey, more people on the island. Letʼs party! Whoʼs got the rum? I should open a bar, call it Islands!!!
 
 
DRUNNNNNKKKKKKK! Beach limbo!
 
Iʼm preparing to attack a pack of wolves. I havenʼt seen wolves in thirty years, now thereʼs a billion. Maybe Iʼm still drunk.
 
Ahoy. A pirate ship comes to rescue me. What, the editors want a sequel? I guess itʼs time to go to Asia.
Romeo and Juliet
by William Shakespeare
@DefNotAHomeo
@JulieBaby
 
My family wonʼt stop fighting the Capulets. Life should be a party. Make love, not war!
 
Here comes my benevolent cousin Mercutio.
 
 
Ah, how I love women! No, not that OLD woman. A new woman. I shall have no fun at this party, thinking of this woman I love . . .
 
But the crew ʼtis in want of drink. We must crash this ball!
 
WTF is Mercutio talking about? Everyone knows fairies donʼt exist! Whoa. Hot babe cometh near. Must try the uninvited grind.
 
She totally digs it! Ah, sin! Sin again! Iʼm such a wit, and such a pimp.
 
 
Uh-oh. Sheʼs a Capulet. Methinks this can go nowhere good, but why stop now?
 
Later: Maybe if I stick around I can get a glimpse of her titties through the window.
 
D DefNotAHomeo: Psst. Wherefore art thou?
D JulieBaby: What do you mean ʻwhere am Iʼ? Iʼm right under the balcony! Does no one understand English anymore?
 
Her nurse asketh if I want to marry Juliet. She is the sun but this is waaay too fast. Am I being punkʼd? Whereʼs Ashton?
 
D Tybalt: Why are you hitting me? I can barely direct message the question with your sword up my ass.
 
Mercutio, you horse dropping. Whyʼd you have to die?@PrinceofCats: One of us is joining him . . . NOT IT!
 
Sometimes you kill your wifeʼs cousin in a duel, and then you have to go to Mantua to hide out. Yeah, life sucks.
 
What? Juliet is dead? No. Orders to kill me on the spot? No! Curse the stars that led me to believe in Hollywood endings!
 
I have my poison, will return to Verona, take care of business.
 
Found fair Juliet. Sheʼs dead, and definitely not faking it! (Didnʼt move when I poked her there.) Alas, I must drink this terrible brew.
 
ʻO, I am fortuneʼs fool!ʼ Maybe just a tool. And so I die. BTW that other woman I was into before Juliet? Wouldʼve been a safer bet.
 
D DefNotAHomeo: Wake up, my love. Cʼmon. Funʼs over. Wake up. Quit it! Not funny. Whereʼs Ashton? Oh shit. Bottoms up.
 
@Montague, @Capulet: Canʼt we all just get along?
Anna Karenina
by Leo Tolstoy
@DoTheLocomotion
 
My sister-in-law wants to divorce my brother. I have to go to Moscow to stop that nonsense. Might as well party while Iʼm there.
 
Some gentleman danced with me the whole night. We got a little grinding on, but not too much. This is formal Russian society, mind you.
 
 
Apparently by dancing with Vronsky I pussy-blocked a girl called Kitty. I suppose thatʼs ironic. Youʼd think with a name like that . . .
 
LOL, Kitty had a nervous breakdown and had to leave the country. Takes her out of the picture.
 
 
Is it irresponsible to start a pretty obvious love affair with Vronsky?
 
 
After all, my husband is a geezer. Do you know what it feels like to have old AARP balls on your face? I shudder at the thought.
 
 
My husband doesnʼt seem to mind as long as I donʼt make a fool of him in public. Talk about spineless. Maybe itʼs all the herniated discs.
 
Alexei Vronzarelli - da Vronz - is my lover now. I missed my period. I may be pregnant with his baby.
My husband caught us in the house. We werenʼt fucking, just playing Yahtzee, but still, I guess having him around was a bit inappropro.
 
My husband peaced. He says he canʼt ʻdeal with this whoreʼ. I guess Iʼm too much woman for him.
 
I almost died giving birth. Boy, you never really consider what itʼs like popping an eight-pound thing out of you. Itʼs really quite scary.
 
My husband returned when he heard the news. I told him he was a father. His eyes lit up. Then I told him the truth. He started crying, lol.
 
He has forgiven me for infidelity (and the tasteless joke) and has offered me a divorce. I kinda feel bad taking it though.
 
 
I decided Iʼm gonna treat him well, and not divorce him. Instead Iʼll continue cuckolding him. Yeah, that sounds better.
 
 
Whew! Glad I cleared my conscience on that one.
 
Iʼm moving in with Vronsky.
 
Life is so boring. Letʼs play a game to see how quickly the perfect married lover can turn into the girlfriend from hell.
 
HEʼS CHEATING ON ME. I know it. He says he went to visit his mom. Yeah, sure, if by mother he means some WHORE.
His mother wants him to marry a princess. She says he shouldnʼt be living in sin with a married woman. Fuckinʼ in-laws.
 
I canʼt take this anymore. Iʼm going out to find him. If I find him in bed with his mother Iʼll be really pissed. Iʼm on my way.
 
 
Alright, twenty rubles says that I can toss my bag in the air, run across the tracks, and catch it before the train arriv—
 
This userʼs account has been deactivated.
Sherlock Holmes
by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
@KeepDiggingWatson
 
Ah, sitting in my study on Baker Street. Wearing my new velvet dressing gown. Taking some, uh . . . snuff. What a relaxing evening.
 
Puffing the pipe. A pounding at the door. Go away. Woman in distress, crying. Watson terrorizing fair sex again? No. Perhaps a mystery.
 
Why do people ask me to solve their problems? Let me enjoy my high. Watson says itʼs a bad habit, but what does he know? Iʼm the detective.
 
I have to investigate a factory where this womanʼs lover was the foreman. She thinks the companyʼs trying to knock him off.
 
Doing a few lines before I start the job. Canʼt solve a mystery without my miracle powder. By which I mean cocaine.
 
 
Asked clever questions. I could tell all were lying. No mention of the valuable metals hidden beneath the factory. Moriarty involved?
 
 
In the water closet doing a bump. Watson says Iʼm paranoid. Says the nose candy affects my work. Fine. Let him buy his own.
Continuing investigation. Made brilliant deductions on many snorts and very little evidence. Notice salt deposits on factory ownerʼs brogues?
 
Watson says I only THINK Iʼm smart because Iʼm high. Does that mean heʼs not gay, only thinks he is?
 
Need opiates to restore calm. And another gram of Colombian marching powder. Itʼs hard to be the River Phoenix of nineteenth-century England.
 
 
Damsel came back; something afoot at the factory. Broke out the bushbait so I could wake up. She wants a hit. Elementary.
 
 
We stripped off. I did lines off her tits. Couldnʼt get it up and know not why. Smoked an entire pouch of tobacco instead.
 
 
A working girl in Staines gave me a clue about the factory owner. Heʼs a regular customer. Pays in gold coin. High roller.
 
Why are the lights at 221 Baker Street so damn bright in the morning? Why does Watson talk so loud? Elementary, my dear STFU!
 
The foreman/lover discovered a precious metal. The salt deposits were cyanide crystals to poison people who got in the way. Like him.
 
Note to self: Donʼt snort the crystals NO MATTER WHAT!
Itch. Bugs in my skin. Need a line and a drink. Have the culprits poisoned me to keep me from foiling their dastardly plot? Nose bleeding.
 
Decided to call in the bobbies because confronting criminals is scary. I just like books, long walks on the beach, and deductive reasoning, you know?
 
Another case solved. Iʼm the Batman of Britain.
 
Robert Downey Jr playing me in a film? Totally cool. Perfect.
Eugene Onegin
by Alexander Pushkin
@MrDandyMan
 
Life is pretty boring when all you do is bag bitches, take names, and kick ass. Also I rock and roll all night. And every day.
 
Well almost as a magical cure for my boredom, my uncle is dead, and left me his house. Party in the countryside? Iʼll say.
 
Thereʼs a poet here, heʼs rather kind, Iʼm going to meet his family.
 
 
I always think the best way to get the ladies is to affect mystery and apathy.
 
 
His wifeʼs sister is a bookworm, but wants me. Iʼm getting a clinger vibe from her. She would marry me in thirty seconds if I were into down.
 
 
I got a really awkward love letter from the bookworm sister while I was walking around town.
 
Iʼm not going to dignify this hussy with a response. Iʼll just scare the shit out of her in the street. Or I can shun her.
 
Do I
have
to see this girl again? Sheʼll go
Fatal Attraction
on me. Iʼd rather have a concussion. Will she bother me, I wonder?
Everyone told me I was very polite, but condescending. How can you both be polite and condescend? Irony? Hypocrisy?
 
Iʼve been invited to a ball by the poet. I dressed for three hours. Itʼs a miserable time because it reminds me of the damned aristocracy!
 
Iʼm so furious. I wanted to leave society and here I am again! The poet and his party are awful. Iʼll torment him by flirting with his wife.
 
He left in a rage. I got the best of that engagement. Does this sort of manipulative, demonic behavior work in real life?
 
 
Wanna hear something really funny? I try to sleep with his wife, he challenges me to a duel, I shoot him and he dies!
 
No, seriously, pumped some lead into him, spilled that lyrical blood. I messed him up, no surprise!
 
The lunatic damsel who I turned down rifled through my documents and thinks Iʼm nothing but an amalgam of literary heroes!
 
 
This place is crap, Iʼm leaving. I probably shouldnʼt have shot the poet. Bad, bad news. Iʼm a wicked person. Woah!
 
Remember that girl who wanted me, the clinger? Well I met her again, and she got really fine. I was such a fool!
She says she canʼt love me just because she is married? Is she trying to gaslight me? What a tool.
 
She gave me a whole speech, like the one I gave her, about why she canʼt sleep with me.
 
Life kind of sucks, leave it to irony and selfishness to come back and bite me in the ass. Iʼm bored. Leave me be!
The Crying of Lot 49
by Thomas Pynchon
@WASTEdEnergy
 
Been made executor of my ex-boyfriendʼs estate. I guess thereʼs no such thing as a free gold-dig. Heading down to San Narciso tomorrow.
 
From hilltop, the city looks like a giant circuit board. I feel like this image might stick with me.
 
A circuit board is something that conveys information. Information seems like an important thing, but perhaps Iʼm missing something.

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