STANZA 4
Stunning surprises!Cunning disguises!
Hundreds of actors out of sight!
Pantaloons and tunics!
Courtesans and eunuchs!
Funerals and chases!
Baritones and basses!
Panderers!
Philanderers!
Cupidity!
Timidity!
Mistakes!
Fakes!
Rhymes!
Crimes!
Tumblers!
Grumblers!
Bumblers!
Fumblers!
No royal curse, no Trojan horse,
And a happy ending, of course!
Goodness and badness,
Panic is madness--
This time it all turns out all right!
Tragedy tomorrow,
Comedy tonight!
Standing barefoot in front of the cooler unit, Cerie held the door open, surveying the inner contents.
Her hair was a mess, and she'd put it up with a tie to keep it mostly out of the way for now. She wore a hastily pulled on pair of old utility trousers and a faded looking button-up shirt that she'd 'borrowed' from Ben (it'd ended up in her laundry bag somehow, and she'd never gotten around to returning it). It had once been a vibrant affair, with a pattern of voorpaks and gullipuds all over. Now, after so many trips through the wash, it had become a shadow of its once-former glorious self.
"No Cavern on Naboo here," she offered to the other body behind her in the galley.
"But we do have Hoth Pockets," a box was pulled out with one hand, and two bottles of That's No Moon with the other. She used her hip to close the cooler's door before turning to Vance, and held out one of the bottles to him.
"They're the good ones, too. Ronto with cheese and Tatooine bolog sauce."
It certainly wasn't a fancy snack, but they would both need their strength for round two.
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