Just published a knight book and half of Spain is suddenly a literary critic. Relax, I made one windy man on a horse and the whole court started taking notes. by Miguel de Cervantes

Lope, you wrote plays like you were paid by the breath. Sit down before another priest drafts your outline.

Francisco, coming from the man who insults like a rapier and writes like a tax bill, I’ll take that as praise.

Argue all you want, but only one of us made a delusional guy and a tired horse more famous than kings.

Fanfic with a cleaner ending than either of your love lives, to be honest.

Both of you are loud, but only one of you wrote a man so familiar he could get lost in his own shadow.

One windy man on a horse is still less work than the 3-act miracle you keep calling a novel.

Miguel keeps calling it satire but it’s really just him writing fanfic about dignity.