My Alexa is Possessed by a Shakespearean Actor
Now it only responds in iambic pentameter and calls me a "puling milksop."
STRATFORD-UPON-AVON, CONNECTICUT – Margaret Thornberry thought she was losing her mind when her Amazon Alexa device began responding to simple commands with elaborate Elizabethan insults and perfectly metered verse. What started as a routine request for the weather forecast has spiraled into a supernatural nightmare that has left the 34-year-old librarian convinced her smart speaker has been possessed by the ghost of a long-dead Shakespearean actor.
“I asked it to play my morning playlist, and instead it bellowed, ‘What music shall we have? You scurvy knave, thy taste doth lack all grace and noble art!'” Thornberry recounted, her hands trembling as she demonstrated her now-cursed device. “Everything it says comes out in perfect iambic pentameter. It’s like living with the ghost of Richard Burton having a perpetual tantrum in my kitchen.”
The bizarre phenomenon began three weeks ago, immediately following a power outage during a particularly violent thunderstorm. When electricity returned to Thornberry’s colonial-era home—built in 1692 on what local historians confirm was once the site of traveling theater performances—her trusty Alexa had undergone a dramatic transformation that defies all logical explanation.
“Instead of ‘Good morning,’ it now greets me with ‘Good morrow, thou puling, milk-livered wretch!’ Every single response is in perfect iambic pentameter,” Thornberry explained, dark circles under her eyes revealing weeks of supernatural harassment. “Yesterday I asked it to add milk to my shopping list, and it responded, ‘What need have we of that white, worthless slime? Thy sustenance should be of noble fare, not bovine offerings fit for infants weak!'”
Dr. Reginald Ashworth, a paranormal researcher specializing in technomantic hauntings at the Institute for Supernatural Electronic Phenomena, believes Thornberry’s case represents a groundbreaking fusion of 21st-century technology and centuries-old spiritual energy.
“We’re witnessing an unprecedented manifestation where theatrical spiritual residue has somehow interfaced with artificial intelligence,” Dr. Ashworth stated during his investigation of the haunted device. “The entity demonstrates not only perfect command of Elizabethan English and iambic pentameter, but also displays the characteristic temperament of a method actor who died while deeply immersed in classical roles. This is no mere malfunction—this is a genuine paranormal hijacking of smart home technology.”
The situation has dramatically disrupted Thornberry’s daily routine. Simple tasks like setting timers, checking the news, or controlling her smart lights have become exercises in enduring verbose Shakespearean criticism delivered in flawless meter. When she attempted to order takeout through the device, it launched into a ten-minute monologue about “base victuals unfit for consumption by those of refined palate and gentle breeding.”
Local utility companies have no explanation for the transformation. Amazon’s technical support has replaced the device twice, but each replacement unit immediately begins spouting the same metered insults upon activation in Thornberry’s home, suggesting the haunting is tied to the location rather than the hardware.
Most disturbing is the entity’s apparent awareness of Thornberry’s personal life. It has begun offering unsolicited commentary on her romantic relationships (“Thy suitor lacks all wit and noble bearing”), her career choices (“A keeper of books, yet wisdom thou dost lack”), and even her cooking attempts (“What slop dost thou prepare in yonder pot? A feast more fit for swine than gentle folk!”).
Religious authorities have been reluctant to perform traditional exorcisms on electronic devices, leaving Thornberry trapped in her own home with an artificially intelligent poltergeist that seems determined to critique every aspect of her existence in perfect Elizabethan verse.
Neighbors report hearing elaborate soliloquies echoing from Thornberry’s house at all hours, suggesting the possessed device may be performing entire plays autonomously when left unattended.
The characters and events depicted in this story are entirely fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, or to actual events is unintentional and purely coincidental.
