| GHH Shakespeare  Parodies of famous works of literature, GH style
Carly At The Bat
( with due acknowledgement to Ernest Thayer)
contributed by Scampicat
The outlook wasn't brilliant for the GH crew that day;
The score stood four to two with but one scene more to play.
And then when Tony faded at first, and OldTammy did the same,
A sickly silence fell upon the followers of the game.
A straggling few got up to go in deep despair.
The rest clung to that hope which springs eternal in the human breast;
They thought if only Carly could but get a whack at that--
We'd put up even money now with Carly at the bat.
But Chloe preceded Carly, as did Hannah, the fake,
And the former was a Lulu and the latter was a cake;
So upon that stricken multitude grim melancholy sat,
For there seemed but little chance of Carly's getting to the bat.
But Chloe showed emotion, to the wonderment of all,
And Hannah, the much despised, tore the cover off the ball;
And when the dust had lifted, and the fans saw what had occurred,
There was Hannah on at second and Chloe a-hugging third.
Then from 5,000 throats and more there rose a lusty yell;
It rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell;
It knocked upon the mountain and recoiled upon the flat,
For Carly, mighty Carly, was advancing to the bat.
There was ease in Carly's manner as she stepped into her place;
There was pride in Carly's bearing and a smile on Carly's face.
And when, responding to the cheers, she lightly doffed her hat,
No stranger in the crowd could doubt 'twas Carly at the bat.
Ten thousand eyes were on her as she rubbed her hands with dirt;
Five thousand tongues applauded when she wiped them on her shirt.
Then while the writhing pitcher ground the ball into his hip,
Defiance gleamed in Carly's eye, a sneer curled Carly's lip.
And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air,
And Carly stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there.
Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped--
"That ain't my style," said Carly. "Strike one," the umpire said.
From the benches black with people, there went up a muffled roar,
Like the beating of the storm-waves on a stern and distant shore.
"Kill her! Kill the "umpire"!" shouted some one on the stand;
And it's likely they'd have killed her had not Carly raised her hand.
With a smile of Christian charity great Carly's visage shone;
She stilled the rising tumult; she bade the game go on;
She signaled to the pitcher, and once more the spheroid flew;
But Carly still ignored it, and the umpire said, "Strike two."
"Fraud!" cried the maddened thousands, and echo answered fraud;
But one scornful look from Carly and the audience was awed.
They saw her face grow stern and cold, they saw her muscles strain,
And they knew that Carly wouldn't let that ball go by again.
The sneer is gone from Carly's lip, her teeth are clenched in hate;
She pounds with cruel violence her bat upon the plate.
And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go,
And now the air is shattered by the force of Carly's blow.
Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright;
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light,
And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout;
But there is no joy in GHer-ville--mighty Carly has struck out.
The Plot Already Written (a lighthearted spoof of Robert Frost's The Road Not Taken -- in honor of the Getting To Know You Woes of a new Power That Is, who needs a fair shake but is such a fun target for gentle ribbing.....) contributed by lightheart Two plots diverged on a yellow pad,
And sorry I could not scribble both
And be one soap producer, long I sat
And looked back at scripts as far as I could
To where the best ratings peaked in the past;
Then looked at other soaps, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because I knew all the people and had worked there; Though as for that the passing
there
Had worn out my welcome just the same, And both that morning equally lay
In ink many pens had trickled out before.
Oh, I kept the first plot for another day!
Yes, knowing how plot leads back to plots,
I knew doubtless, it would all be a tease.
I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two plots diverged on a legal pad, and I —
I took the one that happened already, and left all other loose plots flapping in the breeze, Not that it makes any difference. A Spoof of Walt Whitman’s "O Captain! My Captain!" contributed by Annie O Carly! Our Carly!
O Carly! Our Carly! Your tearful trip is done Your scripts have weather’d every change The Emmy you sought was won, Your Exit is near The dissention we hear The GHH-ers all posting While wondering if the contract talk is real The pro-Carlys are grim but caring But, o, her painted lips of bad girl red Where in The Penthouse our Carly lies Going...perhaps to Europe...perhaps, dead O, Carly! Our Carly! Go to Tinseltown and join the swells Go to Tinseltown For there, your Oscar dwells.
A Holiday Poem
(with due acknowledgement and thanks to Dr. Suess) Contributed by Scampicat
Every GHH-er Down in GHH-er-ville liked their Soap Opera a lot... But the TIIC Monster, who lived just north of GHH-er-ville, Did NOT! The TIIC Monster hated most storylines! Especially the whole Sweeps Month season! Now, please don't ask why. No one quite knows the reason. It could be his head wasn't screwed on just right. It could be, perhaps, that his shoes were
too tight. But I think that the most likely reason of all may have been that his heart was two sizes too small.
But, whatever the reason, his heart or his shoes, He stood there at the end of Sweeps Month, hating the GHH-ers. Staring down from his cave with a sour, TIIC Monster-ly frown, at the warm lighted windows below in their town. For he knew every GHH-er down in GHH-er-ville below, was busy banging their PC's, letting TPTB know. "And they're creating better storylines!" he
snarled with a sneer, "It's the last week of Sweeps Month! It's practically here!" Then he growled, with his TIIC Monster fingers nervously drumming, "I MUST find some way to stop these new storylines from coming!"
For tomorrow, he knew all the GHH-er girls and boys would wake bright and early. They'd rush for the characters that gave them such joys! And then! Oh, the noise! They'd cheer on their favorites! That's one thing he hated! The NOISE! NOISE! NOISE! NOISE! Then the GHH-ers, young and old, would sit
down to a feast. And they'd feast! And they'd feast! And they'd FEAST! FEAST! FEAST! FEAST!
They would feast on Annie 80-4's, and Suelb's rare roast beast - Which was something the TIIC Monster couldn't stand in the
least! And THEN they'd do something He liked least of all! Every GHH-er down in GHH-er-ville, the tall and the small, would stand close together, with the GH theme song ringing. They'd stand hand-in-hand. Led by the La-La's, the GHH-ers would start singing! They'd sing! And they'd sing! And they'd SING! SING! SING! SING!
And the more the TIIC Monster thought of this GHH-er-Sing, The more the TIIC Monster thought, "I must stop this whole
thing!" "Why, for too many years I've put up with it now!" "I MUST stop these new plots from coming! ...But HOW?" Then he got an idea! An awful idea! THE TIIC MONSTER GOT A WONDERFUL, AWFUL IDEA!
"I know just what to do!" The TIIC Monster laughed in his throat. And he made a quick Santy Claus hat and a coat. And he chuckled, and clucked, "What a great TIIC Monster-y trick!" "With this coat and this hat, I look just like Saint Nick!" "All I need is a reindeer..." The TIIC Monster looked around. But, since reindeer are scarce, there was none to be found. Did that stop the old TIIC Monster...? No! The TIIC Monster simply said, "If I can't find a reindeer, I'll make one instead!" So he called to the prop room and got this dog Foster. Then he took some red thread and he tied a big horn on the top of his head. THEN He loaded some sacks, and some old burlap bags on a ramshackle sleigh, and he hitched up the dusty, seldom used, old flea-bitten nag.
Then the TIIC Monster said, "Giddyap!" And the sleigh started down toward the homes where the GHH-ers lay a-snooze in their town. All their windows were dark. Quiet snow filled the air. All the GHH-ers were all dreaming sweet plot-twists without care - When he came to the first little house on the square. "This is stop number One," the old TIIC Monster Claus hissed.
And he climbed to the roof, empty bags in his fist. Then he slid down the chimney. A rather tight pinch. But, if Santa could do it, then so could this Grinch. He got stuck only once, for a moment or two. Then he stuck his head out of the fireplace flue - Where the little GHH-er pleas to TPTB all hung in a row. "These pleas," he grinned, "are the first things to go!" Then he
slithered and slunk, with a smile most unpleasant - Around the whole room, and he took every character present! Tony Jones! Mike Corbin! Amy Vining! Audrey Hardy! Dara Jensen! Mac Scorpio! OldTammy! Stefan Cassedine! And he stuffed them in bags. Then the TIIC Monster, very nimbly, stuffed all the
bags, one by one, up the chimney!
Then he slunk to the icebox. He took the GHH-ers' feast! He took the Annie 80-4's! He took Suelb's roast beast! He cleaned out that icebox as quick as a flash. Why, that TIIC Monster even took the last can of Luke's emergency hash! Then he stuffed all the food up the chimney with a gleam in his eyes.
"And NOW!" grinned the TIIC Monster, "I will stuff up the new storylines!" And the TIIC Monster grabbed the storylines, and he started to shove when he heard a small sound like the coo of a dove. He turned around fast, and he saw a small GHH-er! Little Dsmith GHH-er, who was under twenty-two. The TIIC
Monster had been caught by this tiny GHH-er, who'd got out of bed for a cup of cold water. He stared at the TIIC Monster and said, "Santy Claus, why, Why are you taking our characters and storylines? WHY?" But, you know, that old TIIC Monster was so smart and so slick. He thought up a lie, and he thought it up quick! "Why, my sweet little tot," the fake Santy Claus lied, "There's a glitch in Poor Tony, his character just shows one side." "So I'm taking him home to my workshop, my dear." "I'll fix him up there. Then I'll bring him back here." And his fib fooled the child. Then he patted his head and he got him a drink and he sent him to bed. And when Dsmith GHH-er went to bed with his cup, the TIIC Monster went to the chimney and stuffed the storylines up! Then the last thing he took was their PC analog wire! Then he
went up the chimney, himself, the old liar.
On their PC's he left nothing but empty chat rooms and Non-GH screen savers. And the one speck of story that he left in the house was a crumb that was even too small for a mouse. Then He did the same thing to the other GHH-ers' houses, leaving crumbs much too small for the other GHH-ers' mouses! It was
quarter past dawn... All the GHH-ers, still a-bed, All the GHH-ers, still a-snooze - when he packed up his sled. Packed it up with their characters, past and present! The ribbons! The wrappings! The wardrobe! The scenery! The plastic island trappings! Three thousand feet up! Up the side of Mt.
Crumpit, He rode with his load to the tiptop to dump it! "Pooh-Pooh to the GHH-ers!" he was TIIC Monster-ish-ly humming. "They're finding out now that no improvements are coming!" "They're just waking up! I know just what they'll do!" "Their mouths will hang open a minute or two. Then the GHH-ers down in GHH-er-ville will all cry Boo-Hoo!" "That's a noise," grinned the TIIC Monster, "That I simply MUST hear!" So he paused. And the TIIC Monster put his hand to his ear. And he did hear a sound rising over the snow. It started in low. Then it started to grow...
But the sound wasn't sad! Why, this sound sounded merry! It couldn't be so! But it WAS merry! VERY! He stared down at GHH-er-ville! The TIIC Monster popped his eyes! Then he shook! What he saw was a shocking surprise! Every GHH-er down in GHH-er-ville, led by the La-La's, was singing! Without any characters present at all! He HADN'T stopped GH fan's adoration from coming!
IT CAME! Somehow or other, it came just the same! And the TIIC Monster, with his TIIC Monster-feet ice-cold in the snow, stood puzzling and puzzling: "How could it be so?" "It came without new storylines! It came without Tags!" "It came without long time characters, fake scenery or Wyndom's
shopping bags!" And he puzzled three hours, till his puzzler was sore. Then the TIIC Monster thought of something he hadn't before! "Maybe GH," he thought, "doesn't come from a store." "Maybe GH...perhaps...means a little bit more!"
And what happened then...? Well...in GHH-er-ville they say that the TIIC Monster's small heart grew three sizes that day! And the minute his heart didn't feel quite so tight, he whizzed with his load through the bright morning light. And he brought back the revered characters! Decent storylines! And the food for the feast! And he... ...HE HIMSELF...! The TIIC Monster carved Suelb's roast beast!
The 12 Days of Christmas
Contributed by Scampicat On the first day of Christmas,
My GHH Cyberfriend gave to me,
An Axe to Chop Down Emily's Tree.
On the second day of Christmas,
My GHH Cyberfriend gave to me,
Two Teenage Loves
And An Axe to Chop Down Emily's Tree.
On the third day of Christmas,
My GHH Cyberfriend gave to me,
Three Ex-Wives,
Two Teenage Loves
And An Axe to Chop Down Emily's Tree.
On the fourth day of Christmas,
My GHH Cyberfriend gave to me,
Four Blackmail Schemes,
Three Ex-Wives,
Two Teenage Loves
And An Axe to Chop Down Emily's Tree.
On the fifth day of Christmas,
My GHH Cyberfriend gave to me,
Five False Arrests,
Four Blackmail Schemes,
Three Ex-Wives,
Two Teenage Loves
And An Axe to Chop Down Emily's Tree.
On the sixth day of Christmas,
My GHH Cyberfriend gave to me,
Six Bullets Flying,
Five False Arrests,
Four Blackmail Schemes,
Three Ex-Wives,
Two Teenage Loves
And An Axe to Chop Down Emily's Tree.
On the seventh day of Christmas,
My GHH Cyberfriend gave to me,
Seven Fugitives Running,
Six Bullets Flying,
Five False Arrests,
Four Blackmail Schemes,
Three Ex-Wives,
Two Teenage Loves
And An Axe to Chop Down Emily's Tree.
On the eighth day of Christmas,
My GHH Cyberfriend gave to me,
Eight Grown Kids Appearing,
Seven Fugitives Running,
Six Bullets Flying,
Five False Arrests,
Four Blackmail Schemes,
Three Ex-Wives,
Two Teenage Loves
And An Axe to Chop Down Emily's Tree.
On the ninth day of Christmas,
My GHH Cyberfriend gave to me,
Nine Paternity Tests Switching,
Eight Grown Kids Appearing,
Seven Fugitives Running,
Six Bullets Flying,
Five False Arrests,
Four Blackmail Schemes,
Three Ex-Wives,
Two Teenage Loves
And An Axe to Chop Down Emily's Tree.
On the tenth day of Christmas,
My GHH Cyberfriend gave to me,
Ten Lovers Meeting,
Nine Paternity Tests Switching,
Eight Grown Kids Appearing,
Seven Fugitives Running,
Six Bullets Flying,
Five False Arrests,
Four Blackmail Schemes,
Three Ex-Wives,
Two Teenage Loves
And An Axe to Chop Down Emily's Tree.
On the eleventh day of Christmas,
My GHH Cyberfriend gave to me,
Eleven Bodies Hiding,
Ten Lovers Meeting,
Nine Paternity Tests Switching,
Eight Grown Kids Appearing,
Seven Fugitives Running,
Six Bullets Flying,
Five False Arrests,
Four Blackmail Schemes,
Three Ex-Wives,
Two Teenage Loves
And An Axe to Chop Down Emily's Tree.
On the twelfth day of Christmas,
My GHH Cyberfriend gave to me,
Twelve Stars now Recurring,
Eleven Bodies Hiding,
Ten Lovers Meeting,
Nine Paternity Tests Switching,
Eight Grown Kids Appearing,
Seven Fugitives Running,
Six Bullets Flying,
Five False Arrests,
Four Blackmail Schemes,
Three Ex-Wives,
Two Teenage Loves
And An Axe to Chop Down Emily's Tree. The Laura of Shallnot Contributed by Lightheart
On either side of the river lie
Long piers of bars filled with whiskey and rye,
That sooth the heart and burn the eye;
And thro' the piers the docks run by
To many towered Charlesalot;
And up and down the people go,
gazing where the rich folk go
round a yacht there below
the yacht of Shallnot.
Willows whiten, aspens quiver,
Little breezes dusk and shiver
Thro' the wave that runs for ever
By the yacht in the river
Flowing down to Charlesalot.
Velvet bar stools, and whiskey sours,
Overlook a space of hours,
And the silent boat embowers
The Laura of Shallnot.
Only shoppers, shopping early,
In a Wyndam's hurley burley
Hear a wail that echos queerly
From the river winding clearly,
Down to towered Charlesalot;
And by the moon the shopper weary,
Burdened with bargains all to carry,
Listening, whispers, "Man, that's scary,
The Laura of Shallnot."
There she drinks by night and day
A magic brew with flavors gay,
She has heard the witch Helena say,
A curse is on her if she not stay
Far away from Charlesalot.
Laura knows not what the curse may be,
And so she drinketh steadily,
And little other care hath she,
The Laura of Shallnot.
And reading through the Daily Mirror clear
That is delivered to her through the year,
Shadows of the world appear.
There she sees the docks so near
Winding down to Charlesalot;
And sometimes thro' the news so blue
She sees Lukesalot and Flea walking two and two,
She hath no loyal man and true,
The Laura of Shallnot.
But in her scotch she still delights
To wash away the newspaper's sights,
For often thro' the silent nights
A trial with tvs and lights
And reporters went to Charlesalot;
Or when the moon was overhead,
Came Lukesalot and Flea, fresh from bed.
"I am half-SICK of being overlooked," said
The Laura of Shallnot.
Shouting distance from her room,
Lukesalot and Flea strode on their way home,
The sun came dazzling thro' Laura's moans,
And flamed upon the balded dome
Of bold Sir Lukesalot.
A former mayor for ever tied
To the Flea glued to his side,
Who imagined she could be his bride,
Beside remote Charlesalot.
Flea's long blond hair in sunlight glow'd;
On faded docks by his side she trode;
And underneath Luke's black jacket flow'd
A patchwork scarf cute Flea had sewed,
As he walked down to Charlesalot.
From the pier and from the river
Just like they looked in the Daily Mirror,
"Oh my darling" by the river
Sang Sir Lukesalot.
Laura left her booze, she left her moans,
She made three paces thro' her rooms,
She saw the bimbo who wrecked her home,
She saw the man for whom she'd roamed
She saw the scarf, and Helena's broom,
She look'd down to Charlesalot.
Out flew the broom and floated wide;
It swayed a bit from side to side;
"It is inviting me to ride,
I SHALL NOT more be pushed aside"
cried Laura of Shallnot.
In the stormy east-wind straining,
The pale yellow docks were waning,
The broad stream in his banks complaining.
Heavily the low sky raining
Over tower'd Charlesalot;
Laura hopped on the broom and fled the boat
Beneath the storm clouds left afloat,
And round and round the prow she rode
The Laura of Shallnot.
And down the rivers' dim expanse
Like some scorned avenger in a trance
Seeing all her own missed chance --
With a bottle of scotch still in her hands
Did she ride to Charlesalot.
And at the closing of the day
She cackled and cried as the scotch held sway;
The Witches' broom bore her far away
From the yacht of Shallnot.
Made a screeching, mournful, holy,
Chanted loudly, chanted lowly,
Till her blood was frozen slowly,
And her eyes were darkened wholly,
Turned the broom to Charlesalot.
For ere she reach'd upon the tide
The first house by the water-side,
Shrieking her wrath she arrived
"I SHALL NOT more be victimized!"
shouted Laura of Shallnot.
Under tower and balcony,
By penthouse and gallery,
Her gleaming, screaming shape flew by
Mad and pale 'tween skyscrapers high,
Howling into Charlesalot.
Out upon the wharfs they came,
Mobsters and Doctors, Sluts and Dames,
And round the docks they whispered her name,
Of her glory days and fame,
The Laura of Shallnot.
Who is this? And what is here?
And in the lighted Kelly's near
Died the sound of laughing cheer;
Teenage characters stared in fear,
And new citizens of Charlsealot;
But Lukesalot mused a little space
He said, "Flea, I remember that lovely face;
May the Headwriter in Mercy lend her grace,
The Laura of Shallnot."
The Refrigeration of Poor Dead Ted
Based on the poem, The
Cremation of Sam McGee by Robert Service.
a joint effort by ScampiCat and annie84
There are strange things done in the Port Charles vales
By the men who search for mates;
The Soap Opera trails have their secret tales
That would make you swear off eternal love;
Those exclusive estates have seen enough queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night in the caverns of Wyndemere
That they froze Poor Ted the po-leece.
Now Poor Dead Ted was was an undercover cop,
full of wit and guile and charm.
No one knows why he left the rave with Emily, her head ringing like a bell to end up at the motel with poor Em the one in harm.
He was always hot, but the land of PC
seemed to hold him like a spell;
Though he'd often say in his undercover way
that he'd "sooner live in hell".
On that 3rd of July the teens were moshing their way through this 'activity' known as a Rave.
Talk of the horror! through the disguises,
it stabbed like a parent's chore.
If their guard they let down, then the masses would frown
till some point they'd have to fess up;
It was no fun at all, but the only one to stand tall was that cop, Poor Dead Ted.
And that very night, as they stood round the rave in their garbs beneath the strobe,
the teens were high, the stars were nigh, and everyone dancing too and fro,
the copy said to Em, "Girl," says he, "I'll cash in this trip, I guess;
And if I do, I'm asking that you won't refuse my last request."
Well, he seemed so low that Em couldn't say no;
then he says with a sort of moan:
"It's the cursed hiding, and it's got right hold
till I'm chilled clean through to the bone.
I can't be dead -- it's my awful dread
of blowing my cover that pains;
So I want you to swear that, foul or fair,
you'll get rid of my last remains."
A cop's last request is a thing to heed, so Em swore she would not fail;
And they started on at the streak of dawn;
but God! he looked ghastly pale.
They passed out on the bed and slept through the night
of his motel from night to day;
And before daylight a corpse was all that was left of Ted the po-leece.
There wasn't a breath in that land of death,
and Nik and Lucky hurried, horror-driven,
With a corpse half hid that the couldn't get rid,
because of a promise gained;
It was lashed to the Jag, and it seemed to say:
"You may tax your brawn and brains,
But you promised true, and it's up to you
to get rid of these last remains."
Now a promise made is a debt unpaid,
and GH teen life has its own stern code.
In the days to come, though the teens lips were dumb,
in their heart how they cursed that load.
In the long, long night, by Kelly's neon light,
while the whiney teens, round in a ring,
Howled out their woes to us watching the show --
O God! how they loathed the thing.
And every day Ted's absence seemed to heavy and heavier grow;
And on they went, though the writers were spent
and the plotlines was getting low;
The trail was bad, and the teens felt half mad,
but they swore they would not give in;
And they'd often sing [at kelly's] of the hateful thing, and it hearkened with a grin.
Till the teen males came to the caverns of Wyndamere,
and an empty freezer there lay;
It was jammed full of ice, but the two saw in a trice
it was out of sight of Helena.
And the two hunks looked at it, and they thought a bit,
and to them looked at their dead chum;
Then "Here", said they, with a sudden cry,
"is his freez-a-tor-eum."
Some sheets they tore from the cavern floor,
and wrapped then around poor old Ted;
Some old ropes they found that were lying around,
tied him tight, ignoring their dread;
They prepared the fridge for its load,
and the servants were told --
not to touch this special appliance;
They opened the lid in a wink, and with nary a blink,
they stuffed in Ted the Po-leece.
Then they both took off, for they didn't want to get caught;
And the cops they did query,
and Juan let loose his fury,
and Gia entered the show.
It seemed like weeks had gone by,
but Ted stayed in his place,
the teens returned to the rave time and again;
And finally they determined
that Zander was the one they would frame.
Around and around and around on the show,
the teens wrestled with grisly fear;
But a plot they hatched out and tho they had some doubt,
To the fridge they ventured near;
they were sick with dread, but they bravely said:
"we'll just take a peep inside.
I guess he's froze, tho its not what I would have chose";. . .
then the door they opened wide.
And there sat Ted, looking cool and calm,
in the depth's of that fridge's hoar;
And he wore a smile you could see a mile,
and he said: "Please close that door.
It's fine in here, but I greatly fear
you'll let in the August blast --
Since I left the humidity of summer in good old PC,
I'm finally cool at last."
There are strange things done in the Port Charles vales
By the men who search for mates;
The Soap Opera trails have their secret tales
That would make you swear off eternal love;
Those exclusive estates have seen enough queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night in the caverns of Wyndemere
That they froze Poor Ted the po-leece.
THE CARLY TANGLEWOOD MOTEL SONNET
(from Shakespeare's Sonnet #117)
as interpreted by
annie84
Accuse me thugs: I have scammed you all
Sonny, I should your forty thousand repay.
Was not thinking when the Port Charles PD I did call
Whereto my airhead plans roped me in, this very day;
That I have frequent been with flibbertigibbet mind
And I speak now to you, Sorel, use your mobster's pate
And forgive that I have shot my big mouth off, to all the wind
Let me transport myself out of this closet, from this motel space.
Forgive, oh, Sonny and Sorel, forgive me for bringing this down. Taggart, just let Sonny go, and handcuff me in his place; Hannah, even bring me within the level of your FBI frown But shoot not at me with your almost-lovin' A.J. hate;
Doth not my wig and Bobbie attire say I did strive to prove
That, at last, Sonny, hear me, from The Brownstone I want to move!
bklyn59's contributions: a little Melville: Call me Luke. Some years ago-never mind how long percisely-having little or not money in my purse,and nothing particular to interest me or Laura on shore, we thought we would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world. It is a way we have of driving off the PCPD. Whenever I find myself accused of a crime I may or may not have committed, or pausing before coffee warehouses, then I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can. This is my subsitutite for the pistol and ball. With a philosophical flourish, Stefan throws himself upon his sword; I quietly take to the ship. There is nothing surprising in this.
Friends, Romans, Port Charlesians, lend me your ears I come to bury Ted, not to praise him. The evil men do lives after them; the good is oft interred in their freezer; so let it be with Stefan. The nobel Luke Hath told you Stefan was ambitious: if it were so, it was a grievous fault, and grievously hath Stefan answered it........
Lady Helena: So shall I love, sleek o'er your rugged looks; be bright and jovial among my guests to-night. Macandreas: So shall I madame and so I pray you;let your rememberence apply to Stefan Present him eminence, both with eye and tongue:unsafe the while that we must dropth the body in the flowing harbor and make our faces visards to our hearts disguising what we are Lady Helena: You must leave me dear Macandreas Macandreas: O, full of Scorpios is Pine Valley madame. thou know'st that Robert and his dear Anna lives. Macandreas: But in them nature's copy not eternel
Alas poor Ted........
annie84's contributions: | Lucky (to Liz and Nik): ..When shall we meet again...In Kelly's or the boxcar in the train?
Port Charles townspeople (mocking the fashions of Lady Bobbie & Ladyette Carly): ...What are these...So wither'd and so wild in their attire....
Macscorpio: ...Is this a Taggart which I see before me, ...Some evidence toward my hand? Come, let me search thee.
Chloe: ...Methought I heard a voice cry, "Sleep no more!"
A.J.: ...I drink to the general joy o' the whole table....
And a translation from a short play by John Lazarus ...... Lucky, Liz, Em & Nik (as in a Greek chorus): ....The body..what to do with the body...must get rid of the body..bury it in the backyard...no...the cellar...no...wait until midnight and drop it off the bridge...no....no....no....
"All Port Charles's a stage, and all the Quartermaines and the Cassadines merely players, they have their exits (Farewell, Sweet Jax) and their entrances (Gia, Gia's comin' to town), and one Carly in her time plays many parts."
Poor Dead Ted: "What a case am I in."
Carly" "Oh, how full of washers is the working-day world."
Chloe: "How bitter a thing it is to look into murder through another woman's eyes."
Brazen's contributions: Stefan says as he listens to the tape of Helana: Me thinks the lady doth protest to much! | The Comedy Of Errors Nik to lucky after Lucky tells him to take Liz Nik: Upon what bargain do you give it me? Liz: Because that I familiarly sometimes do use you for my fool, and chat with you, your sauciness will jest upon my love, and make a common of my serious hours. when the sun shines let foolish brothers make sport, but creep in crannies when they hide dead Ted. If you will jest with me, know my aspect, and fashion your demeanor to my looks, or I will beat this method into your brain.
Lee's contribution: | Elmo, Elmo...where art thou Elmo...?
(oft missed GHH family member)
carolyn's contributions: Juan & Emily: Emily: Goodnight, parting is such sweet sorrow. Juan: Woulds't thou leave me so unsatisfied? Emily: What satisfaction cans't thou have tonight? Juan: The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine. Emily: Oh, I gave thee mine before thou dids't request it (I mean, before your half naked body was all over that other girl!)
lightheart's contributions: | Carly and Liz from Bianca and Kate fighting in Taming of the Shrew: Bianca(Liz): Good sister, wrong me not, nor wrong yourself, To make a bondmaid and a slave of me - That I disdain. But for these other gawds, Stop calling me names, or I'll pull your lips off, Yea, both your lips, to your gums, or if you keep this up, I'll knock you teeth out the backs of your ears. Kate(Carly): Of all thy suitors, here I charge thee, tell whom thou lov'st best. See thou dissemble not (you little slut). Bianca(Liz): Believe me, sister, of all the men alive, I never yet beheld that special face which I could fancy more than Lucky. Kate(Carly): Minion, thou liest! Is't Jason? Bianca(Liz): If you affect him, sister, here I swear, I'll plead for you myself but you shall have him (when the moon is blue, and pigs fly, and right after I stand on my head and spit nickels, you delusional twit!) Kate:(Carly): O then, belike, you fancy riches more. You will have Sonny to keep you fair. Bianca(Liz): Is it for him you do envy me so? Nay then you jest, and now I well perceive you have but jested with me all this while. Because no one could seriously be as rude as you are, and everyone knows I am just friends with absolutely every handsome hunk in town. I prithee, sister Carly, untie my hands, so I can rip your jealous little head off. Kate(Carly): If that be jest then all the rest was so. (Strikes her. Enter Bobby) Baptista(Bobby): Why, how now, dame, whence grows this insolence? Liz, stand aside. Poor girl, she weeps. Go sit on the Bench at the Docks, Liz, (someone handsome is bound to come along to comfort you there), meddle not with Carly. For shame, Carly, thou hilding of a devlish spirit, why dost thou wrong her that did ne'er wrong thee? When did she cross thee with a bitter word? Kate(Carly): Will you not suffer me, Mama? Nay, now I see St. Liz is your treasure, she must have a husband; I must dance barefoot on her wedding day, and for your love to her lead apes in hell. Talk not to me, I will go sit and weep (on Roy's shoulder) till I can find occasion of revenge. (Exit) Baptista(Bobby): Was ever a mama thus grieved as I? | This is for Helena: "Full fathom fivethy Stefan does not lie, of his bones are not coral made, those are not pearls that were his eyes, and nothing of him that doth fade. But doth suffer a sea change into something rich and strange, French blondies hourly "ring his knell" (wink wink) -- Hark! now I hear Helena, on the tapes Andreas doth sell."
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