A Midwinter Night's Dream
Act I, Scene I (Sorry dears, there isn't any more)
By Anne Hathaway Tierney

Here standeth I, yea and forsooth
on the verge of bedding the love of my youth,
who knowest all about me, yea, even my name
for Clarence and Clare are one and the same.
Born one score and one summer ago;
I am a boy, and yet a girl as thou well mayest know.

Issued forth yet alone from my father and mother;
I have no siblings; no sister, no brother,
Their own parents passed after four score
with offspring whom they had come to adore.

Matthew and Ardela had met one night.
E'en tho they were young it was love at first sight.
He was five and played football in school,
and she cheered him on; (takest I thee a fool!)
While no child of those ages sport will play
Yet in my story how ever I may
write anachronistic babble.
(This story mayest plod being hardly a drabble.)

Then dear Henry and his helpmeet Mary Anne
begat a young lad, Calvin...hardly a man.
He played games and other things as well
He loved to play as a girl doth, I had heard tell.

As our parents acquaintances made in haste,
I hardly had thought of him, I being so chaste.
But I took an immediate shine to him as some say
Having yet my first erection ere that day.

When he questioned my garb, "Why?” Said he,
"Wearest girls' clothes when it be plain for all to see
that thou art a boy, albeit fey?”
noting my brevity of stature save one bit ere that day.
“I am a girl,” says I, “you must know even as you yet stare;
I was born Clarence, but thou mayest call me Clare.”
Expecting horror upon his countenance I weep
When ere a look of acceptance across his face did creep.

“What sayest the GOOD BOOK regarding such a claim
that this boy prefereth not to be a man but a dame?”
Said his father with such love like no other,
save for the woman he married, Cal's mother.

"That Clare is GOD’S CHILD like me.
Ere he truly believeth that he is a she?
I am to accept him as a maid.
Be he a stone fox or be he yet staid?”
“Do you, son?” asked his father,“Yes,
verily Daddy. I love him, I really love him,” he did confess.

He hugged his son. "Yea and well said.
“A CHILD OF GOD!” spake he as he patted his head.

“Sweet child, have a care," said his mother... "I yet fear!
Our dear sweet daughter Isabella died last year.”
"Why?” asked I with a start like no other.
"She was like you, Clare. She was my brother
There were people who killed her for that sin;
Being different,” said Calvin as his hug drew me in!

“Those OTHER CHRISTIANS, that gang oh so mean
Killed her for her sin; she died at the scene.
Abused and tortured for being a boy,
Her death caused them no small joy
They saw her as folly as twisted;confused
and deserving of rape, she was abused!”

“But that's folly itself”, said the narrator, “Oh hell
A stereotype and a false notion as well.
People are raped by evil men who hate,
being a girl sealest not that fate, nor a boy
for they take pleasure no matter with joy!
“Wearing a dress meanest nothing I say e'en though
this foolishness is repeated day after day
by well-meaning souls by heck, perpetuating
These tales, these myths, this drek!”

(The reader was astonished, as yet once again
He cast the story aside and then
turned to the author as if in a scene.)
“Pardon me if I seem very mean?
You know not of what you speak, yes?"
“You got me; I knowest this not at all, " he did confess!”

“Yet thou art publishing ere yet again with
sight of this drivel ne'er coming to an end,
You continue to display swagger and pluck
yet I fear they enow be ne'er enough!
(What the fuck?)

“Your tales ere I surmise are
bereft of gravitas, left with mere size;
of fluff, of lint; since you choose not to borrow
any idea of sense, we'll see yet another tomorrow!”

So we ere now return to our drama at hand;
“The plays the thing,” thou mayest demand
but the tale went on and progressed to romance!
As Calvin and I enjoyed our dance
and he proposed to me then. I surely accepted.
As all who read may believe, present company excepted.

After the dance, I do now confess
I chose, albeit with fear to address
that which Calvin himself considered a mess!
So the following fortnight I had SRS
with much doubt. Thou mayest call me a fool,
but een' in now in a dress I miss my tool.

So, from a boy to a maid
to a woman, Yea it be true
my story and yours? Oh hearken, please do,
to be a SPECIAL GIRL, it workest now.
Workest even indeed also for thou?

The story will be broadcast both far and wide
Every site where thou goest thou mayest ne'er hide.
Another tale will arrive promptly
on the morrow, thou having no luck
And thou mayest speak yet again with aplomb,
"What the fuck?”