Last page's mystery artist chimes in with another alternate look at situations we've already witnessed and moved on from. Wow: Paris was bombed and that was devastating. Also: what about that squire and his quest to return the manure-filled Uni-balle to Jolly Olde Englandde? I hate to distract from the amazing sideshow, but, uh, the main plot is calling and it wants a slice of its comic back.
With the blackeſt of ſtuffs the pen now iſ packed
To England's fair ſhores we muſt now fly
Let uſ depart this blaſted land, pen in hand.
Little does the squire realise that Shakespeare is no longer on Stratford-on-Avon, but situated somewhere in the domain of Princess Insipid. Of course, who knows how long it will take him to get back there anyhow. I suspect the route back may well be less direct than his trip there.
I also found a first draft of the loose blank verse:
Nice copping of a Shakespearian lingo, down to the notorious "long s".