Pickwick Papers? More like Dick Lick Papers.
I had Great Expectations once. They were thwarted.
Hey, I've got a good ending for Edwin Drood: "This book sucked. Sorry I didn't die sooner. The End."
Little Dorrit? Shit was 900 pages long, asshole.
I read A Tale of Two Cities. It was a far, far shittier book than any I had ever read.
I've got a blurb for Oliver Twist: Please, sir, may I have less?
Martin Chuzzlewit? More like Martin Guzzles Shit.
I just finished David Copperfield. Where the magic tricks at, fuckface?
We are now ready to tackle Dickens. We are now ready to embrace Dickens. We are now ready to bask in Dickens. In our dealings with Jane Austen we had to make a certain effort in order to join the ladies in the drawing room. In the case of Dickens we remain at the table with our tawny port.
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