[ed note: how cool is this!?!!]

This is a pre-emptive strike poetry adaption. Because we're in a mytharc, and we ALL know that mytharc requires the blood of a major character to be legitimate. The speaker, just in case it's not glaringly obvious, is CC. My apologies to Robert Browning, who should apologize to me for the length of Fra Lippo Lippi. "My Last Mythrifice" (My Last Duchess) Los Angeles That's my last mythrifice painted on the wall, Looking as if he were alive. I call That piece a wonder, now: Spotnitz's hands Worked busily a day, and there he stands. Will't please you sit and look at her? I said "Spotnitz" by design, for never watched Fan-folk like you that manicured countenance, The depth and passion of its watery glance, But to myself they turned (since none puts by The curtain I have drawn for you, but I) And seemed as they would ask me, if they dared, How such a sneer came there: so, not the first Are you to turn and ask thus. Sir, 'twas not The mytharc's presence only, called that spot Of blood into the Manicured-Man's cheek: perhaps Spotnitz chanced to say "His "My God" laps Over his filed nails too much," or "Paint Must never hope to reproduce that faint Half-explosion that kills every man in the car": such stuff Was courtesy, he thought, and cause enough For killing the man in the name of the project.... He blasphemed God-- whatever! but blasphemed Somehow-- I know not how-- as if he ranked The Syndicate's gift of a worldwide plague With a grandson's leg. Who'd stoop to kill This sort of trifling? Even had I skill in speech-- which I have not-- to make my whim Quite clear to such an one, and say, "Just this "Or that will I sacrifice you for; Pendrell Was a fluke-- you will exceed that mark"-- and if he let Himself be lessoned so, nor plainly set His wits to yours, forsooth, and made excuse, --E'en then there would be some bleeding; and I chose Always to kill. Oh sir, he died, no doubt, Whene'er there is a mytharc; but who lives without Much the same death? It grew; I made a muddle; Then all sense stopped together. There he stands As if alive. Will 't please you choose? We'll meet The production company below, then. I repeat, FOX your master's known munificience Is ample warrant that no just pretense Of mine for artifice will be disallowed; Though another mytharc death, as I avowed As starting, is my object. Nay, we'll go Together down, sir. Notice Shiban, though, Writing a good episode, thought a rarity, Which Vince of Gilligan produces always for me!

Author: Bead

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