Dr. Strange's book club: Fool

I was seven before I realized that you could eat breakfast with your pants on.

"Ydych chi'n cymryd cerdynnau credid?" said the highwayman, no doubt trying to frighten me further, his consonants chained like anal beads strung out of hell's own bunghole.

"You're certain?" said big hat. "We've been rehearsing a classic from antiquity, Green Eggs and Hamlet, the story of a young prince of Denmark who goes mad, drowns his girlfriend, and in his remorse, forces breakfast on all whom he meets. It was pieced together from fragments of an ancient Merican manuscript."
"No," said I. "I think it will be too esoteric for the king. He is old and nods off during longs performances."
"Shame," said big hat. "A moving piece. Let me do a selection for you. 'Green eggs, or not green eggs? That is the question. Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to eat them in a box, with a fox--'"
"Stop!" said I. "Go now, and quickly. War has come to the land and rumor has it that as soon as they've finished with the lawyers, they're going to kill all the actors."

Sarcasm will make your tits fall off.

"Pocket doesn't mean to be cruel, he doesn't understand how you feel. Still, we have to keep it to ourselves. It's not proper to dry-hump the deceased, love."