What’s good y’all?
This week we sip sip sippin with "The Cask of Amontillado" by Edgar Allan Poe, my man.
Da narrator of this story got major beef with some fool named Fortunato.
He been burned so bad by this cat dat he ain’t bout to let it slide.
Dat hater has got to go.
Da narrator wanna get revenge, but he ain’t gonna just ghost a brutha in broad daylight.
So he start thinkin, “If there’s one thing I know bout dat bitch, it’s that he love to get his drink on.”
So he decide to use Fortunato’s mad love for wine to GIT DAT SUCKA.
So da narrator roll up to Fortunato while he shit-faced at a carnival.
Boy like, “Say dawg. I got a bottle of da cleanest wine you ever seen back at my place — might even be Amontillado.
If you don’t want a taste, I guess I could sip wit my boy Luchesi...”
“Yo hold up playboy — Luchesi don’t know Amontillado from his assh*le. Let's do this."
So da narrator take Fortunato to his family crypt, where he keep his stash of expensive bottles.
But da place all full of nitre, and Fortunato start coughin like a little ol' bitch.
Da narrator like, “Look if you can’t hang, we can just forget about it.”
But Fortunato like, “Naw bruh — I'm straight.”
Fool straight fiendin fo that Amontillado.
As they go deeper into da catacombs, da narrator make sure he keep Fortunato nice and liquored up.
These vaults got dead bodies from da narrator’s bloodline, AKA the Montresor fam, by the stack.
He start talkin bout his people's coat of arms and their hard-ass motto: “No one attacks me with impunity.”
Lata, Fortunato throw up a mason gang sign, but Montresor don’t recognize what da hell he doin.
Fortunato like, “Oh, you ain’t a mason?”
Montresor: “Oh fo sho, fo sho I’m a Mason.”
But when Montresor can’t prove he legit, he start feelin like a real scrub.
Eventually, they roll up on a little hole in the wall, and Montressor like,
“Well, there it is. Go in there and po up some Amontillado.”
Since Fortunato's wasted as hell by now, he ain’t even trip when Montresor chain his body to da damn wall.
Then brutha start layin bricks, trapping Fortunato in dat baby-sized room.
At first, Fortunato don’t know what da hell goin on.
Just as Montresor lay dat last brick, he hear da bells on Fortunato’s hat.
And fo fifty years after, Fortunato’s body still chillin in dem chains.
May he rest in peace... I guess?
The realest scholars be all up on this text’s nuts, sayin it’s Poe’s most perfect short story, since its strapped with irony.
Fo one, there’s some dramatic irony at the core of the plot:
Da reader know that Fortunato bout to get wrecked, but Fortunato ain’t got a clue what’s coming.
On top of dat, Poe slangin verbal irony like he don’t give a f**k.
Da name Fortunato means “da fortunate one,” and dat cat is far from lucky —
unless gettin tho’d and buried alive is yo thang.
Almost everything dat come outta Montresor’s mouth when he conversatin with Fortunato
got a different meaning from what he actually say.
Even though he want Fortunato to keep sippin his juice and cruisin deeper in to the vaults, he always saying sh*t like,
“Nah, bruh — let’s go back.”
“‘Come,’ I said, with decision, ‘we will go back; your health is precious.
You are rich, respected, admired, beloved; you are happy as once I was.
You are a man to be missed.
For me it is no matter. We will go back; you will be ill, and I cannot be responsible...’”
But he know damn well dat Fortunato ain’t gonna back down, since he jonesin fo dat sweet Amontillado.
Even Fortunato’s stupid ass hat got irony to it.
Da last thing Montresor hear after he hole dat hater up is da jingle of them damn bells.
See, back in Poe’s day, peeps would put bells on da limbs of dead rich folk
so they don’t accidentally bury them alive.
'Cept this time, when da bells start jinglin, ain’t nobody comin to help — specially not God.
The last words Montresor say before he finish the wall?
“Yes for the love of God!”
But he sho as hell ain’t doin it for da love of God.
What he is doin it for, though, is revenge.
Sh*t, dat lust fo vengeance might even run through his veins.
I mean, da family motto is, "No one provokes me with impunity,” or in real talk:
"Don’t f**k wit me or it ain’t gonna be pretty."
Actually, da hell did Fortunato even do?
Montresor never give us the lowdown.
I mean, it gotta be something whack if he came up with such a crazy-ass plan to kill him.
Then again, maybe Fortunato actually didn’t do sh*t.
Maybe Montresor just hatin to rep them family values.
Check out what some scholarly hood named Thompson say:
“Montresor's lack of remorse, then, even after fifty years, should not be a wonder to us...
He has an obligation to his family; he carries it out, with relish, and savors deeply the satisfaction that success
in carrying out this obligation brings him. ... [W]hat he did, he is convinced, was justified.
He was carrying out an obligation to his family as he saw it — as he was culturally conditioned to see it.
Now, fifty years after the event, he can recount it with pride.”
All I know is dat if some fool named Montresor come trippin to yo face, just walk away, homie.
Cuz dem cats don’t play.
Yo, if you're feelin your boy Poe, then take a minute to click on this dumbass bird to be taken to my episode on "The Raven."
Catch ya later playas.
Peace!