“My dear friend, the amount of cells you have left in your brain doth equate to zero.”
Julian scoffed. “You call that Shakespearean? Homeboy was more, ‘thou art a foul, purple-appendixed peahen’.”
“‘Appendixed’ isn’t a word!”
“Shakespeare made up words!”
“Touché,” I replied, picking up my sword (fake, don’t freak out) from the table. “Can I try again?”
Marjorie shook her head, which made her ...