After going through a few numeros with Winnie, we promptly made our way to the bus stop in a bid to avoid the squeeze-as-many-students-as-you-can-into-a-bus frenzy and (Oh-my-what-a-lovely-surprise!) bumped into four of our dearest lecturers, gathered together around that sexy hot thang.
HAHA THE TINY CUTE GENTLEMAN JUMPING ABOUT LIKE A LITTLE BOY AWWW
That’s Monsieur Abbas + 4/7 petite-Abbas versions for you. Double versions included.
O hell! what have we here?
A carrion Death, within whose empty eye
There is a written scroll! I’ll read the writing.
All that glisters is not gold;
Often have you heard that told:
Many a man his life hath sold
But my outside to behold:
Gilded tombs do worms enfold.
Had you been as wise as bold,
Young in limbs, in judgement old
Your answer had not been inscroll’d
Fare you well, your suit is cold.
Cold, indeed; and labour lost:
Then, farewell, heat, and welcome, frost!
Portia, adieu. I have too grieved a heart
To take a tedious leave: thus losers part.