Thursday, November 18, 2010
Lo, it hath come to pass that Jake, the Elder Son, hath discovered ancient Avengers comics, which depict the Mighty Thor. And in these venerable tomes, Thor doth discourse in a much bastardized form of Elizabethan English, full of "thee" and "thou" and "thy" and "verily, forsooth!"
Much smitten is young Jake with this ludicrous patois, and armed with an inflatable hammer of vile chartreuse vinyl, he doth wander the house crying 'Yea, verily!' and smiting all and sundry. And if the son shall speak with the rolling tones of the Thunder God, shall not the father arise and perform alike?
Thus it is that Flinthart the father and Flinthart the son now do berate one another in most excessively elegant language. Indeed, so furious our verbal strivings wax that Younger Son hath himself betrayed a kindred interest. Yet the Younger Son hath not yet the fullest understanding of this older tongue, and for him, 'most everything is 'thy'. Which is not meet, but certes, doth much entertain.
Natheless, Jake and I hath laid a wager slight betwixt our selves, in secret. We dispute the length of days his mother's sanity can withstand our present amusement. Jake holds that she will split asunder within three days, at best, while I maintain she hath easily the stamina for five, perhaps as many as seven.
We shall see!