Excerpt: Thirteenth Night; or, Malvolio's Revenge

Malvolio was in the cellar again. He was not entirely certain as to why he kept ending up there, especially as it was so dark. He hated the dark. It had become even more detestable since – that Unfortunate Incident. He still could not believe that he had been so gullible. Just the other day, in fact, that fool of a fool Feste had tricked him into thinking that "gullible" was not a word after all, but an acronym for "God's umbrella lacks lacy, irritable Briton-launching eagles." One would think that by now he would have figured out that it would be best to ignore most of what the jester said, discount what was not to be ignored, and prove wrong what was not to be ignored or discounted. It was a sad state of things indeed when one was so distracted that he could be so easily deceived by such a dry fool.