My name is Marigold and I am a buttaholic. Yes, it is true. Remember my former struggle and subsequent membership in the MBA (Myotonic Butters Anonymous)? I have fallen off the wagon. My friends, I am saddened to have you witness this setback. However, this morning I butted Watson - not once, but THREE times in a row. Twice in the side and once square in the goateus maximus. Naturally he fainted, but I was relentless, never allowing him time to fully recover before dealing the next crippling blow. In my defense, it is the holidays, and well, it is just SO difficult to remain 'on the wagon' during the holidays. It has happened time and time again. The parties. The Peanuts. You understand.
The goatmother came unglued and was in my face in an instant. Have you ever come nose to nose with an irate goatmother shaking a finger in your face and demanding cessation of any an all activity that you might even remotely be considering? Allow me to say it is the stuff nightmares are made of.
Okay, so maybe it wasn't just the holidays. I mean all this Shakespeare is beginning to grate on every resolve-challenged nerve I have left in my body. Why, even after the first time I butted him, Watson was still spewing forth lines like, "My words fly up, my thoughts remain below!", and, "The quality of mercy is not strained!", and even, " Beware the ides of those born in March!" OY. I lost it. I lost control. I was pushed to the jagged edge, teetering on the brink of madness.
Well, okay, maybe I am a little ashamed. At this time of year, I just hope Santa didn't notice. He is really busy just now. I can see it now - coal and burnt Peanuts in my stocking while everyone else enjoys large, succulent, carefully-roasted delectations. We'll hope Santa can forgive one small and unfortunate incident out of several months of solid constancy. Many's the time I've held myself in restraint.
Still, for all my good intentions, I feel I should impart one last counsel of wisdom and warning to young Mr. Watson. In the words of his very own hero, "There was never yet philosopher that could endure the toothache patiently." Wise words. Wise words, indeed, Mr. Shakespeare.