Oh, brother, he groaned. Pretending for a moment that I’ll overlook your self indulgent flattery regarding one of my masterpieces, let me ask you something. Do you know what made it a tragedy?
Well, yeah. They died, I cleverly responded.
Oh, very good, Einstein. They died.’ How first-year-English of you.
No, I mean they died tragically.
He slowly shook his head. Pitiful. No wonder you people need me. You really need me, and you’re lucky I’ve taken an interest in you. He stopped dancing and stood on his tippy toes to reach up and place a surprisingly strong hand on my shoulder. I bent over so he could stand flat on his feet.
Listen dude, those two tragic little kids went off to fairyland way before their time and their only mistake was of one of bad timing, and that blew the whole deal for them. So, do you get the point yet, Little Brother? Life is long, circumstances change, full plates can become empty. So don’t be so quick to jump on the knife. Now give me that smoke.
Author’s Note: In light of the current questions regarding the definitive image of William Shakespeare, I thought it might be fun to drawn my own. In spite of what he considers to be unflattering portraits of him, he still visits me on a regular basis.