Blogging Wuthering Heights: Part 16

This is Coffinmaker's hilarious blog, yo. —Sparkitors

Guess what number I wrote today for the musical version of Wuthering Heights? It's my favorite number so far, because in it, a bunch of little munchkins climb out from behind Wuthering Heights and start singing.

Munchkins: Ding dong, the Cathy's dead! The Crabby Cathy? The Flabby Cathy!
Ding dong, the evil Cathy's dead!

Kenneth: As parish, sir, I must aver, I thoroughly examined her,
And she's not only merely dead, she's really most sincerely dead!

Chapter XV

That's right, Cathy's dead. And she didn't even ask her husband for one last favor—such as a baby to shake or something like that—before she died. It was all summed up in one sentence; "About twelve o'clock that night was born the Catherine you [Lockwood] saw at Wuthering Heights: a puny, seven-months' child; and two hours after the mother died, having never recovered sufficient consciousness to miss Heathcliff, or know Edgar."

Oh shoot. I just read that sentence a second time and realized—

ARRRRRGH! BRONTE! You're trying to get me to jump in a river, aren't you? Why can't you just kill Cathy and let her be dead, without bringing a Cathy II into the world? I bet this one is the advanced prototype, with extra sassiness and two sets of arms for advanced baby-shaking. What a little monster.

The next morning, Nelly leaves Linton sleeping next to the corpse of his wife (ew) and goes out to tell Heathcliff about Nelly. Heathcliff, you remember (you'd better remember), was waiting outside all night to hear how Cathy was doing. But he already knows that Cathy is dead, and he gets all nostril-flarey when Nelly starts to cry. He says that Cathy doesn't need Nelly's tears.

Which is silly, because everyone knows that tears are for the living people, not the dead ones. They're to help get over the grief—they don't help the spirits at all. It's not like they compare their tear collections to each other.

Spirit Bob: Whew! Look how many people cried for me! That measures up to just about three liters!
Spirit Jim: Three liters? What a joke. I have at least five liters right here.
Spirit Nokotok: My vat of tears is frozen over, because I was Inuit.
Spirit Michael Jackson: Hey, does anybody have a forklift? I need to bring in my third load.

Then Heathcliff gets all emo; when Nelly says she hopes Cathy is safe in heaven, Heathcliff cries in "a sudden paroxysm of ungovernable passion" the following: "May she wake in torment!" He starts in again on the soul stuff, creepily asks Cathy's ghost to haunt him for the rest of his days, etc. and so on. I just hope he doesn't run into the house and start french kissing her corpse.

Oh. Linton is pretty sad too, by the way.

Smeyer's thoughts after reading this chapter: After reading this chapter, Stephenie Meyer DIED. And when she got to heaven, Spirit Bob, Spirit Jim, Spirit Nokotok, and Spirit Michael Jackson all laughed at her because there wasn't a single tear in her vat.

My thoughts after reading this chapter: Someone last week pointed out that I haven't mentioned the knife-gun for two chapters now. This is true. This is because the knife-gun decided to switch dimensions for a little while and is currently saving an Earth in another dimension from destruction by black hole.

In Chapter XVII: Heathcliff and Linton start fighting over Cathy's corpse. They're each so possessive of it that Nelly finally has to settle their feud by slashing the body in half down the middle with the knife-gun. Heathcliff holds his half passionately against his body, saying "I always did love your left half better, Cathy." Linton isn't a hundred percent sure what to do with his half, since it seems to be giving him dirty looks.

Who do you think should have the biggest vat of tears?

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