Oliver Mannion (on his way out the door to school): See ya, Dad.
Me: Anything big going on today?
Oliver: We're almost finished with Macbeth.
Me: Oh. When will you finish? Today?
Oliver: I'm not sure.
Me: Tomorrow?
Oliver: Mayb...
Me: And tomorrow, and tomorrow? Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, and all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death...
Oliver: Dad?
Me: OUT! OUT brief candle, life is but a walking shadow, a strolling player...
Oliver: Dad!
Me: Who struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more.
Oliver: Bye, Dad.
Me: It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying...
Oliver (exits muttering): God, I hate having an English professor for a father.
Me: NOTHING! Have a good day, son!
Oh, so our destination, the last syllable of recorded time, that's just a minor footnote? Where do we get these guys???
Posted by: David Hertzig | Wednesday, June 11, 2014 at 07:01 PM
David, please forgive me. It was seven a.m. and I was operating on only one pot of coffee.
Posted by: Lance Mannion | Wednesday, June 11, 2014 at 07:40 PM
This... and Yeats 'The Second Coming'; my go to 'frames' for viewing the world when things are extra bad.
Posted by: David Hyland | Thursday, June 12, 2014 at 11:56 AM
All is forgiven. No one should be required to quote the Scottish Play until after at least 2 pots of coffee. My waspishness was no doubt triggered by me being only half-way through my first pot....
Posted by: David Hertzig | Thursday, June 12, 2014 at 06:07 PM