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Beowulf Version

Beowulf Version

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Published by Willem de Phoops
A version of the Beowulf epic. Dedicated to Seamus Heaney, RIP. First four parts only.
A version of the Beowulf epic. Dedicated to Seamus Heaney, RIP. First four parts only.

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Published by: Willem de Phoops on Aug 30, 2013
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial


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first part
shit. Danish bitches with spears, we know all about them fuckers. Princes were manly bitches, sure, killing bears and shit in battle. Shield the Shield-Dane — Didn’t have better names back then: Shield used to strip bitches from their benches where they were drinking mead, oggling wenches (You catch that rhyme?) Nobody liked him though, he was such a cocksuck Even cunts overseas who never saw him Hated the bow and scrape. Well, fuck ’im. After him he had a son they liked much more Beowulf was his name, and all those German-Danes looked like wolves anyway. Easier to like the son than the hateful dad. This made him famous. Which is to say, everybody loved the boy. Sooner or later, the dad shoved off. The boy had allies, and they showed themselves heartily. They went to war a couple of times on all sorts of fancy ships, some fitted out with jewels. Mind you, he’d only just gotten Hair on his balls, but no Hare Krishna was he. He slayed men like bitches. Bitches. But he was marked. And so he went.


second part
So people dug Beowulf, because they are fools, because he hadn’t fucked them yet being just a hairless boy He even lorded over Heorogar, Hrothgar, and Halga the good a bunch of fucks A lot of ’em had consorts and why not, if you were a Dane and a wolf and had bitches around Well, he was liked enough that they said, sure, let’s build another mead-hall, the thousandth one And they built it. And it was epic because it was memorable and nothing else was happening. And there was a wild orgy probably of nostalgia, and Beowulf bestowed gifts, on bitches that knowed no better Until sooner or later, Grendel came up, who was a real son of a bitch and who threatened the whole damn thing Being so strong, and so loathsome, that the ship might have sunk. All eyes looked to the king, who was Beowulf, more or less. And he said: I am the King. Fuck it. I will take care of it. Though he come from Abel himself, I am the King. The King is more bad-ass. Elves and giants and what have you ain’t got shit on a bad-ass King.

third part
Beowulf went out half-drunk one night — Cause he was King he felt the world had special safety for him And as his word was his deed he traveled quite a ways to get to the place where the rumored Grendel preyed On bitches — namely the living. Beowulf got to a place and heard the tales of woe. Well nigh thirty bitches armed with spears and balls on each got torn to bits, gutted By Grendel Who didn’t care for no bitch and just shredded cunts ohne mercy Beowulf the King heard the handwringing lament o’er Grendel, who fucked ’em all And Christ, Even Beowulf was afraid. But he was King. So he said: Fuck it. I’ll test that bitch, he said. I’ll find out where the cunt sleeps. I’ll track him and then When like any cunt his eyes are closed and he dreams a torrid sleep I’ll fuck that fucker’s liver to bits It don’t matter if it’s the Devil’s Hell, sayeth the King. If he breathes and if he sleeps, I’ll slay that nigger dead. Sure as shit.

So a lot of Danes and a lot of kinsmen and shit got up in arms. Beowulf was around, but these niggers wanted a part in the story, too. There was one song and negotation after another. Hrothgar was one noble fuck who had at least half a dozen silent pussies at his beck and call. He said: Beowulf, sainted liege, Slay that bitch. And Beowulf said, well, sure. Other cunts rose through the ranks, now knowing that a killing was on, said, sure, they’d do it, too. Beowulf, I hasten to motherfucking add, had hair on his balls by now. Because if you hadn’t noticed he is going to kill that motherfucking beast. No shorn-scrotum kid can do that. This ain’t David Copperfield. The British Empire ain’t around yet. Men can still blast one off in bitches without apology. So there it was. Beowulf was ready, steady. Bitches wanted their piece. A lot of folks said: Let’s go get that cunt. But here the story gets murky. A lot of fucking tribesmen named Geats acted like goats. More than one wore a bell round his neck. Hrothgar even, cunt that he is, Starts to assert himself as king in his own right, and half his clansmen say, yea, he fucked some relation of my wife’s, so he is King. Beowulf ends up asking some seamstress, or songstress, or magical party: what the fuck? That party says, all right. I’ll watch your boat. And your fucks, too. Come on down, I’ll lead you to the place of the latest sacrilege. And sure enough, Beowulf and his bad-ass bastards take the plunge.

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