[ed note: how cool is this!?!!]


This is a pre-emptive strike poetry adaption. Because 
we're in a mytharc, and we ALL know that mytharc requires 
the blood of a major character to be legitimate. The speaker, 
just in case it's not glaringly obvious, is CC.

My apologies to Robert Browning, who should apologize to me 
for the length of Fra Lippo Lippi.

"My Last Mythrifice"
(My Last Duchess)

Los Angeles

That's my last mythrifice painted on the wall,
Looking as if he were alive. I call
That piece a wonder, now: Spotnitz's hands
Worked busily a day, and there he stands.
Will't please you sit and look at her? I said
"Spotnitz" by design, for never watched
Fan-folk like you that manicured countenance,
The depth and passion of its watery glance,
But to myself they turned (since none puts by
The curtain I have drawn for you, but I)
And seemed as they would ask me, if they dared,
How such a sneer came there: so, not the first
Are you to turn and ask thus. Sir, 'twas not
The mytharc's presence only, called that spot
Of blood into the Manicured-Man's cheek: perhaps
Spotnitz chanced to say "His "My God" laps
Over his filed nails too much," or "Paint
Must never hope to reproduce that faint
Half-explosion that kills every man in the car": such stuff
Was courtesy, he thought, and cause enough
For killing the man in the name of the project....
He blasphemed God-- whatever! but blasphemed
Somehow-- I know not how-- as if he ranked
The Syndicate's gift of a worldwide plague
With a grandson's leg. Who'd stoop to kill
This sort of trifling? Even had I skill
in speech-- which I have not-- to make my whim
Quite clear to such an one, and say, "Just this
"Or that will I sacrifice you for; Pendrell
Was a fluke-- you will exceed that mark"-- and if he let
Himself be lessoned so, nor plainly set
His wits to yours, forsooth, and made excuse,
--E'en then there would be some bleeding; and I chose
Always to kill. Oh sir, he died, no doubt,
Whene'er there is a mytharc; but who lives without
Much the same death? It grew; I made a muddle;
Then all sense stopped together. There he stands
As if alive. Will 't please you choose? We'll meet
The production company below, then. I repeat,
FOX your master's known munificience
Is ample warrant that no just pretense
Of mine for artifice will be disallowed;
Though another mytharc death, as I avowed
As starting, is my object. Nay, we'll go
Together down, sir. Notice Shiban, though,
Writing a good episode, thought a rarity,
Which Vince of Gilligan produces always for me!

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