DESCRIPTION:
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Hey Beowulf - written by Mickey, Jon, Barry, and Alex.
Long, long ago on a stormy day just like this there lived a fabled and legendary man. Come closer, come closer to the light and listen to the story that I have to tell. No, child, do not be frightened by my leprosy. Come and bathe in tales of the past.

SO! Our story begins with a gigantic and perilous beast that was indeed...that was indeed...a big monster.

Please turn to page 25 lines 340-347.

"We are retainers from Hygelac's band. Beowulf is my name. If your lord and master, the most renowned son of Halfdane, will hear me out and graciously allow me to greet him in person, I am ready and willing to report my errand."

Hang in there Beowulf. Listen what I say-owulf. Times make look hard, but do it for Hrothgar. Hey Beowulf, no day but today-owulf. You put your life out on the line, then get drunk from all the wine...I mean mead. Hey Beowulf.

A great demon had descended from Cain's clan, Grendel was his name. He thrashed about and killed many of King Hrothgar's soldiers. Though it would appear that Grendel was a yellow-belly, he slaughtered them in their sleep while they slept sleeping in their beds. Grendel dare not touch the king himself, though, for that throne was protected by God and God is wrathful...wrathful as sin. And this is indeed where our hero sets sail, quite literally, on the sea to aid the king in his plight. Beowulf was his name, Beowulf the Great...no actually just Beowulf. He waits in Heorot with his men, pretending to sleep, the sly dog. But then Grendel comes, and as quickly as he does, bada bing bada Beowulf, the hero tears off his arm and Grendel rushes home sweet home, the safest place in times of suffering, and proceeds to die faster than a hungry Samoan man on sushi. All seemed well, but then Grendel's mom had to be that one annoying mom that has to come high tailing up in her minivan and ruin everything for everyone just cause her kid got hit in the face with a soccer ball. She proceeds to kill until Beowulf is like, "Hey, I'm done with this," and her head becomes a mythical entity...because it doesn't exist anymore.

Seamus Heaney, you're driving me crazy. Kennings and alliteration: a translation sensation. Do you write in prose or verse? I cannot quench my thirst for Anglo-Saxon narrative. I think it is imperative. Seamus, I am afraid. This horse is a color of a different shade. But Seamus, I think it's easy to see, the crux of the biscuit is the apostrophe.

Falsetto solo

Your name is Beowulf. Kneel down and pray-owulf. Your legacy will go forth, just keep looking towards the north. Hey Beowulf, to Grendel's dismay-owulf. Your will is very strong and your spirit will live on. Hey Beowulf.

And so, fifty years of bliss and cotton candy rain down upon Geatland. Little did Beowulf know that this freaking huge ass dragon was sleeping in his lair, and it took but one fool to end his slumber. Beowulf heard rumors of the ghastly beast and rounded up his finest thanes to fight the final fight. "Hello there great monster!" Beowulf says, but with a much more assertive tone and no English accent. "Come and fight me out in the open, not in the cave you repulsive lizard!" And the dragon said...and the dragon...said, "OK." Beowulf's pansy thanes run away with their tails between their legs. And Beowulf's sword and Dragon's claws alternate slashing and whipping: Slash whip slash whip slash whip slash...you get the point. Until Wiglaf makes his way to the fight back saying, "I got scared, I cave to peer pressure, I've got no self-esteem." So he and Beowulf fight gallantly side by side until things go sour for Beowulf. He dies right after a fatal thrust of his sword into the dragon due to the massive bite in his neck. So Wiglaf is left with a kingdom and lots of treasure. Pretty convenient for Wiglaf, but now Swedes are going to rape and pillage Geatland. What a shame. What a shame.

So Beowulf, hear me out mkay-owulf. Never had a girl to shag, is that cause you're a ___. And Beowulf, are you sure you're not gay-owulf. Never had a son, no oven for your bun.

You're the savior of the Danes, can I get an Amen. Amen.
You're the savior of the Danes, can I get an Amen. Amen.

Crazy flamenco style guitars here.

FIN