This is the Thread Where You Post a Literary Parody

It draws upon me, this thing, sometimes in the deep darkness of night, its foetid presence reeking of almost tangible, obscene villainy. I can -- although I know this is mere imagination -- literally feel its rank breath upon my cheek as I try in vain to sleep. The stench is beyond description. Its power to grip me in a state of terror knows no bounds.

It has no shape, no real form; it creeps and oozes and flows with a preternatural ease and swiftness that chills the blood.

If only it would set me free, I would tell my story to the world, or at least to anyone who would listen, so they might learn the folly of plunging into such unknowable waters. But it can not be.

I am the Internet's slave.

etc. etc.

That’s You Fucked Noo, Supercunt

Peyed aff, eh? Wisnae ma fault, ah telt thum ah couldnae see through fuckin’ lead, but naw, they made me go intae the room aw the same. Cunts.

Soas if ah couldnae see intae the place, how the fuck could ah huv known aboot thur fuckin’ kryptonite the Luthor gadge hud pit inside? The cunts in charge know that fuckin’ stuff pure takes aw ma powers away, so nae wonder ah couldnae stop that busload ay orphans crashin’ intae the Scott Monument… mind you, the wee cunts were fae Wester Hailes, eh, soas it wis probably a blessin’ in disguise for the puir wee bastards when they all goat kilt, saved thum fae a life ay misery oan the scheme wi some daft fuckin’ burd they’s knocked up jist soas they could produce even mair wee fuckin’ schemies for an already overburdened Welfare fuckin’ State.

Of which ah wis also a burden. That wis it eftir that, they gave us the heave. Fuck off Supercunt, that wanker McConnell sais tae us, we’ve goat fuckin’ Aquaman noo. He fits in better wi oor new trendy waterfront image here in Leith as well, ye’ll no see him scared ay fuckin’ kryptonite. Ah thoat ah wid try hard tae make a go ay ma writin’ gig at the Scotsman eftir that, but tae tell yis the truth ah wis nevir really ony guid at thon. Ah eywis made sure ah hud tae nip oot as Superman jist before a deadline or something, so ah dinnae think ah actually ever wrote owt for the cunts. Thur big gadge White kent all along ah wis Supes ah reckon, but he nevir let oan tae us. Ah’m pretty sure he was yasin’ it as prestige doon the old Jackies, no? Thur aw in each others poackits doon thayre, lookin’ fur something tae yase against each other, scratch ma back an’ aw that. Shame, wis a guid ticket that wan, let me spend aw day in the pub – when ah wisnae bein’ Supes, likes.

Ah’m fuckin’ Hank Marvin. Ah wonder if there’s anything tae eat in the kitchen? A wee use ay ma x-ray vision there… magic, a bit ay cauld kebab. Joys ay heat vision that, they get better when you reheat the fuckers.

Oh aye, so then thur Lois bitch fucked oaf tae once she’d found us oot. Ah’m no wastin’ ma time wi a dead end fuckin’ ex-hero, she sais, ah’m oaf tae get a real fuckin’ hero. Last ah heard she wis shacked up wi Palmer, The Atom, ken? Whit kind ay fuckin’ power is that, tae be able tae make yersel wee’er? Make yersel’ bigger ah could understand, a wee bit advantage whin yir oan the joab nevir does ony hairm, eh? Ah think she still hus a grudge against us fur that one time she let us dae her up the erchie. Ah said ah wis sorry, and the doctors made a barry joab ay the stiches, bit as ah says tae her at the time ah cannae ayways tell when ma super-speed’s gonnae kick in. She should be fuckin’ thankful ah wisnae the fuckin’ Flash, that cunt’s as quick it’s aw over before ye’ve even noticed he’s fuckin’ in, or at least that’s what ah’ve heard. How could she no have started tae play fur the other side and gone aff wi Wonder Woman? Wid’ve been a tidy wee wank fantasy that wan, let alone the fact ah could have watched them from a distance wi ma supervision.

Fuckin’ handy thing that vision, ah caught the Batman shaggin’ that Catwoman burd the other night. Eh’d jist yased a batarang tae make a wee hole in her costume and fuckin’ done her through that man! Nae fuckin’ joke! The costumes must be big thing fur him, eh? Must help him get wid. Funny thing that though, ah eywis thought the cunt wis a buftie, whit wi that wee cunt that yased tae follay him aboot dressed up like a wee fuckin’ lassie, and ah wisnae the only wan. That fuckin’ Joker gadge fur starters, ah yased tae think when he cried the cunt Batty Boy he wis jist tryin’ tae sound like yin ay they ragga cunts, ken.

Mibbes ah’ll try mah hand at a wee scam next, eh, see whit it’s like oan the other side. Ah kin take that cunt Aquaman, ah ken that, mibbes hook up wi wee Mixxy and gie McConnell whit’s comin’ tae um. He’s a tasty wee bastard, but a bit stupit, ken? Ivry cunt kens aw yis huv tae dae is get um tae say his name backwards and the cunt faws fur it ivry fuckin’ time.

Ah’ll jist watch ‘Inside Scottish Football’ then gie the wee cunt a bell…

FRAGMENT OF A GREEK TRAGEDY
by A. E. Housman

CHORUS: O suitably-attired-in-leather-boots
Head of a traveler, wherefore seeking whom
Whence by what way how purposed art thou come
To this well-nightingaled vicinity?
My object in inquiring is to know.
But if you happen to be deaf and dumb
And do not understand a word I say,
Then wave your hand, to signify as much.

ALCMAEON: I journeyed hither a Boetian road.
CHORUS: Sailing on horseback, or with feet for oars?
ALCMAEON: Plying with speed my partnership of legs.
CHORUS: Beneath a shining or a rainy Zeus?
ALCMAEON: Mud's sister, not himself, adorns my shoes.
CHORUS: To learn your name would not displease me much.
ALCMAEON: Not all that men desire do they obtain.
CHORUS: Might I then hear at what thy presence shoots.
ALCMAEON: A shepherd's questioned mouth informed me that--
CHORUS: What? for I know not yet what you will say.
ALCMAEON: Nor will you ever, if you interrupt.
CHORUS: Proceed, and I will hold my speechless tongue.
ALCMAEON: This house was Eriphyle's, no one else's.
CHORUS: Nor did he shame his throat with shameful lies.
ALCMAEON: May I then enter, passing through the door?
CHORUS: Go chase into the house a lucky foot.
And, O my son, be, on the one hand, good,
And do not, on the other hand, be bad;
For that is very much the safest plan.
ALCMAEON: I go into the house with heels and speed.

CHORUS

Strophe

In speculation
I would not willingly acquire a name
For ill-digested thought;
But after pondering much
To this conclusion I at last have come:
LIFE IS UNCERTAIN.
This truth I have written deep
In my reflective midriff
On tablets not of wax,
Nor with a pen did I inscribe it there,
For many reasons: LIFE, I say, IS NOT
A STRANGER TO UNCERTAINTY.
Not from the flight of omen-yelling fowls
This fact did I discover,
Nor did the Delphine tripod bark it out,
Nor yet Dodona.
Its native ingenuity sufficed
My self-taught diaphragm.

Antistrophe

Why should I mention
The Inachean daughter, loved of Zeus?
Her whom of old the gods,
More provident than kind,
Provided with four hoofs, two horns, one tail,
A gift not asked for,
And sent her forth to learn
The unfamiliar science
Of how to chew the cud.
She therefore, all about the Argive fields,
Went cropping pale green grass and nettle-tops,
Nor did they disagree with her.
But yet, howe'er nutritious, such repasts
I do not hanker after:
Never may Cypris for her seat select
My dappled liver!
Why should I mention Io? Why indeed?
I have no notion why.

Epode

But now does my boding heart,
Unhired, unaccompanied, sing
A strain not meet for the dance.
Yes even the palace appears
To my yoke of circular eyes
(The right, nor omit I the left)
Like a slaughterhouse, so to speak,
Garnished with woolly deaths
And many sphipwrecks of cows.
I therefore in a Cissian strain lament:
And to the rapid
Loud, linen-tattering thumps upon my chest
Resounds in concert
The battering of my unlucky head.

ERIPHYLE (within): O, I am smitten with a hatchet's jaw;
And that in deed and not in word alone.
CHORUS: I thought I heard a sound within the house
Unlike the voice of one that jumps for joy.
ERIPHYLE: He splits my skull, not in a friendly way,
Once more: he purposes to kill me dead.
CHORUS: I would not be reputed rash, but yet
I doubt if all be gay within the house.
ERIPHYLE: O! O! another stroke! that makes the third.
He stabs me to the heart against my wish.
CHORUS: If that be so, thy state of health is poor;
But thine arithmetic is quite correct.