LYSANDER: I have a widow aunt, a dowager
Of great revenue, and she hath no child,
And she respects me as her only son;
Her house from Athens is remov'd seven leagues,
There, gentle Hermia, may I marry thee,
And to that place--
HERMIA: Hold on. Back to your aunt. We need to talk.
LYSANDER: She's a dowager of great revenue.
HERMIA: Lysander, she's a chicken.
LYSANDER: A Polish chicken. There's a big difference.
HERMIA: So we're getting married in a chicken coop.
LYSANDER: Look, it's nice. I'm telling you. It's seven leagues from Athens. You'll love it when you get there.
HERMIA: Nope nope nope nope nope.
My name is Nasreen. I write micro essays, one-liners, and other small things. Most of them were funny at some point, at least to me.