[Penguin]

Dar: *quietly oofs*

Pengu: whomst'th'fk's oofen?

Shakespeare: By my troth! I doth hear an uncanny sound a-comst from afar. Perchance, someone is in danger... O but stricken by the hand of God we are, for we and us mere mortals canst and wont to that unto which cannot be given! Pray tell, O stranger, thou who art in need of assistance be it from oneself or above; what ails such a person so that they shouldst exclaim with such certainty at the treachors of their woe? Perchance 'tis trouble of the mind, or a paradox of the thought? Perhaps the happening of this happenstance has lead to a great grievance in thine daily living? Or, such as it may be, thou art in struggle against the fiery tongue of a rival? As it may be, my will cannot be realised for thou, for I knowst not where you are or with what thy struggle is with. Alas, I refrain, though it pains me so!