The Cask of Amontillado: Re-Write

A thousand injuries I had borne,

As best I able not forewarn.

For in my mind’s eye,

Fortunato’s fiend-like soul must meet its fate,

And be met with his dismay,

Swore I, Montresor.

I shall not let him see hate in my eyes,

As one cannot conquer without surprise.

His connoisseurship in wine

And brew shall lead to his demise.

Fortunato has broken my will with his words,

And with it my patience runs dry.

Twas carnival season, too perfect a reason

To lure him with wine to his doom.

One evening of madness that comes with the season,

I greeted Fortunato, steady to my reasons.

Convincing him of my Amontillado plenty,

I told him of Luchesi, how he played me for a penny.

Fortunato has broken my will with his words,

And with it, my patience runs dry.

We went to my home, to the vaults, all alone,

And taking from their sconces gave the poor fool flambeaux.

Then to the Montresor catacombs, too eery a place,

Much filled with niter, his coughs filled the space.

Fortunato has broken my will with his words,

And with it my patience runs dry.

We walked and walked more, deeper deeper underground

Drinking our liquor, not hearing a sound,

But the coughs of Fortunato, not deadly,

But pound- pounding in my ears, this deep underground.

Echoing off the stone walls all around.

Fortunato has broken my will with his words,

And with it, my patience runs dry

His costume was motley, cap and bells all too fitting,

For he joked and he kidded with but one thought.

Be a jester, he ought, though the fool doth think he is wise.

The fool of a man, in his mind I was petty.

But really, in truth, my family was plenty.

Our arms were detailing, a large foot d’or

Crushing a serpent whose fangs are embedded.

Our motto, ‘Nemo me impune lacessit’

Four small words whose meaning I’ve headed.

Fortunato has broken my will with his words,

And with it my patience runs dry.

He shuffled and stumbled down the crypt’s empty halls,

Eyes...