As the demigoddesslike (and deipnosophistic) annajroberts draws to a close her epic deconstruction of a certain popular novel (which magnum opus begins here), it is time once again to turn to your regularly scheduled lamentations that E L James is, for some unfathomable reason, remotely successful.
When you type SHA into Amazon's search engine the first predictive result is Shakespeare. The second is Shades of Grey.
I suppose it could be worse. Could be the other way round, but talk about opposite ends of the talent spectrum.
@ajrobertswrites I foresee a project.
@gominokouhai Ugh. Forget it. I've only just put one parody to bed and I only wrote that to get it off my chest.
@ajrobertswrites I'm just considrin the potential for proper rhetoric in the contract scene. I might do it if you won't.
@gominokouhai Do it! I won't - I've had more than enough of those mewling, worthless assholes, with their sex contracts and crap BSDM.
@ajrobertswrites I have four lines of stichomythia in iambic pentameter earworming me now. I may have to write this down to exorcize it.
You asked for it, you got it. (Okay, you didn't ask, but still. Nobody expressly forbade it.) I include the foregoing discussion as context, so you know who is to blame for the ensuing nonsense.
(A further disclaimer: no I've not read Fifty Shades of Grey. In fact I once had to discipline a staff member who I suspected of reading it. Turned out to be a false alarm. So having only read the parody version, and not having read Twilight either, I have no idea if this scene actually takes place, but I'm led to believe it does. So there.)
TEN AND TWOSCORE CHIAROSCUROES
Or, A Bardish Bawd for the Bored.
ACTUS SECUNDUS, Scaena Prima.
Chr. My lady, shall I tie thee up with ropes?
Ana. Yea, even with your cable ties withal.
Chr. O madam, wilt thou take it up the butt?
Ana. My lord, I never so had thought before.
Chr. Not e'en consider up the butt to take't?
Ana. Mayhap I shall consider it.
Chr. Dude, sweet.
Ana. But shall we speak not of emotional—
Chr. We'll not;
For thou art but a paltry Mary Sue
And I a ripoff vampire libertine.
No more than this we are, no more;
And poorly written are we both at that.
No sooner would I tear off both my stones
Than tarry long in such a perfect void.
But use thee shall I for my carnal aims,
For what this novel lacks in plot it shall
Repay with dirty bits in purple prose.
With organ perpendicular I'll search;
In pleasures horizontal shall I find
My consolation for thy lack of mind.
For surely there could be no woman dumber
Than one who seeks to romance such a—
Chr. I seest what thou didst there.
There, now it's out of my brain. And possibly into yours... sorry about that. I started off with two couplets I had to get out of my head, and ended up with a full-blown sonnet: there is a lesson here, I'm sure, but I'm damned if I want to know what it is.
 Bad Quarto editions have
probe here, but later editors bowdlerized it for the sake of their own sanity.