• Published 6th Jan 2016
  • 8,445 Views, 5,521 Comments

What If... - TheMajorTechie



A buncha stories based off of random "What if?" questions. Eight years old and one thousand chapters long. Holy crap. BROKE THE 1000 CHAPTER LIMIT WITH A 1001ST CHAPTER!!!

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the author accidentally wrote a portion of his homework in a chapter?

Author's Note:

Yes, this is seriously a portion of my English homework.

Dramatic reenactment of the class getting this for homework:

Teacher: Okay, so we're in the Shakespeare unit, and with how many ways Shakespeare came up with for insulting adversaries, it shouldn't be too hard for you all to write your own insult letter.

Class: *Crazed grinning*

Teacher: Now, just remember to keep the letter anonymous, and don't address it to anyone in particular.

Class: Aww

Me: Sure. Who needs invisible friends when you can insult an invisible enemy? I've got one that always wants me to slam my head on the keyboard to write horse words.

Dear Sir,

By my troth, is thoust empty-headed! Dost thou expect me to come hither to slave away at thee parchment? Nay! Prithee, perchance ye shall encounter a cutpurse, or some evil-eyed miscreant. Fie on thee for thou distempered demands, whelp! You, my peevish ruffian, are in fact, quite the shandy one. Thee common peddler may receive more respect, for ye have caused much confusion to myself. Now, I must ask, must you linger any longer? Aye, ye shall be discarded at a moment’s notice, for thou are unwelcome. I, however, must request from thee a single task; shog off. Thou is unwanted, and unneeded. Thee grammar is hideous, and I must imagine that thee mind is equally vacant. Even so, thou are nothing more than a mild nuisance in my life, and as one may forsake the irritation of the common housefly, I shall simply discard you from my life.

If ye seek to redeem himself, then ye must halt this foolishness at once. You are anything but jaded, and far from the ranks of the skills of a scribe. A mere lad may beat you in the arts, for ye haven’t found the truth in theeself yet. Forsooth, it is that thou is a simple eggshell of a ruffian. I mustn't ask for any less than thee, for I fear that any less may result in a queasy beast of a snudge. Though, if ye wishes to apologize, and perchance find a tutor in the arts of common grammar, than I shall once more open to your requests.

"WHAT DID YOU SAY TO ME?!" Pinkie screamed, literally bulldozing through the fourth wall.

Oh.

"YOU CALLED ME SIR!"

Miss.

Help.

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