part 18
...And the Men and Women Merely Players
by Nicole Colosimo
with Matthew Atanian
and with bits here and there by some guy named
William Shakespeare
©2000 by Nicole Colosimo and Matthew Atanian
Boy Scouts ½ created by Matthew Atanian
...And the Men and Women Merely Players
by Nicole Colosimo
with Matthew Atanian
and with bits here and there by some guy named
William Shakespeare
©2000 by Nicole Colosimo and Matthew Atanian
Boy Scouts ½ created by Matthew Atanian
21 Days before Opening Night...
Huddled around a lacquered table at Perfume’s Pizza, the cast and directors of Romeo and Juliet sat in gloomy silence. The once steaming pies of delectable pizza now sat cold and untouched. In unison, the group sighed.
“So,” Matt Atanian said, breaking the silence. “Not only are we lacking a set crew, but we’ve no sets. And then there’s the cataclysmic problem of one particularly nasty SPL.”
“Maybe SPL have nasty accident,” Perfume suggested not so vaguely, playing with a rather large butcher’s knife. Mike and Aaron, sitting on either side of the Amazon, visibly paled and scooted their chairs slightly further from her.
Sarah frowned. Perfume looked awfully familiar. Then it hit her. That was the girl she caught Matt making out with in the kitchen of The Church in the Acres! What was she doing here? Sarah wondered testily. Anger surged throughout her body and she didn’t bother to put together the fact that not only was Perfume present at their meeting, but she was also aware of the current problems of the play. Another wave of rage passed over her again when she concluded that Matt and the little strumpet were probably going to get a little action after the meeting.
“Typical male,” she growled under her breath.
Matt heard Sarah mutter something unintelligible but decided against asking her to repeat herself. The look on her face was enough to send a sane man screaming. Nope, better to remain living and intact than to bother Sarah Porter.
“Well.” Nicole cleared her throat. Bill Hughes smiled dreamily at the devious goddess disguised as a Girl Scout beside him. “’Work’ of that type is quite pricey, but attainable.”
“Nicole!” Kirsten exclaimed in horror.
“Well, it is!” Nicole retorted. “And I do have some friends who have some friends who know these people who ‘worked’ along with these ‘workers’ who have the reputation for being reliable.”
“Networking,” Becky Chambers, having spent most of last month working on her Entrepreneurship Patch, nodded in appreciation. Making contacts with people who knew people who were acquainted with people’s dry cleaners always led to something useful.
Nicole excelled at it.
“Can I help it if I have vision?” Nicole smiled innocently.
“But, I don’t relish the thought of spending the rest of my life behind bars,” Bill Gelinas added, grimacing.
“Well, these types of things usually have a way of not getting back to the source. But, I don’t see any of you coming up with anything else,” Nicole said, placing a hand over her mouth as she yawned delicately.
“Nicole Porter,” Sarah growled. Matt could have sworn there was steam seething from her ears. He sighed wistfully, a smile tugging at his lips. She was beautiful when she was enraged. “You and I are going to have a long talk when we get home.”
Nicole grimaced.
“So, any other plans?” Aaron sighed and then hunched over the table, using his arms as a pillow.
“Why don’t we just get Justy preoccupied with something else? Then, as always, he’ll get obsessed about that thing, thus forgetting the play and us,” Mike offered.
“Will it really work?” Kirsten asked.
“WHAT?!” Becker bellowed suddenly, startling the group and causing Matt Swett to promptly loose his balance and fall backwards onto the tiled floor.
“OOF. My jugular!”
“You okay, Swett?” Matt Atanian blinked.
“Ugh...uh, yeah.” Swett grunted painfully. “I’m... ah, I’m gonna go get some ice.” He stumbled to the drink station and pressed his glass to the lever for ice. Swett frowned as his eye caught a single drink can placed beside the Iced Tea dispenser. He hobbled closer and read the label.
“Kiwi/Mocha Fruit Juice,” he read and cringed. “That’s disgusting.” The can seemed to be covered with dents and...marks from someone’s teeth? The can seemed to bare these as badges of honor. It was regal in a sick sort of way.
Well, in the spirit of furthering the damage of the Kiwi/Mocha Fruit Juice, Swett staggered over to the can and decided that this can needed to be placed some where else, and where better than flung over his shoulder? Snatching the up the Kiwi/Mocha fruit juice, he flipped it in his hand and then lobbed it gracefully over his shoulder and out the window that had been somehow conveniently left open.
A yelp of pain came from outside, and then someone yelled, “RANMA!! THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!”
The group blinked a few times and then continued on with business.
“Well, what would best distract Justy from the glory of the spotlight?” Mike asked.
“Another spotlight,” Bill Hughes answered deadpan.
Everyone ignored Will Shmuler who had jumped onto the table, banging a pot with a large metal spoon. Perfume yawned and grabbed Will by the collar, dragged him to the supply closet, and locked him in.
“Correct! The only thing that would successfully draw Justy’s attention elsewhere would have to be an equally enticing proposition,” Mike declared, waving around his spoon. Why someone would need a spoon in an Amazonian pizza parlor with a moody, violent proprietor is anyone’s guess. Mike continued to wave his utensil excitedly.
“Hey!” Aaron exclaimed. “What if we invented some random Boy Scout conference someplace and convince Justy that he’s been selected as the Key Speaker! He’d drop the play for sure.”
“Hmm, yes. And we could insure it a little by getting some of Nicole’s ‘friends’ to keep Justy occupied,” Sarah nodded, then looked sternly to her smirking sister. “Nothing violent, mind you. We just want him preoccupied for a decent amount of time.”
“So, where should we send him?” Gelinas asked. “Abu Dhabi?”
“The place where Garfield always sends Neremal?” Aaron asked dubiously.
“Why not?”
“I don’t know. Neremal always makes it back. Do we really want Justy to make it back?” Mike asked, scrunching his nose in distaste.
“Where’s Abu Dhabi?” Swett interjected.
He was answered by silence.
Matt sighed. Right about now, Kenny would peek up from his latest tomb of knowledge and provide them with another brilliant answer. He had to admit it...he missed the adolescent genius.
“Right.” Matt sighed. “Well, why don’t we find out where it is and if it’s far enough away for Justy to be sent?”
“Pluto wouldn’t be far enough,” Hughes grumbled.
“Well, why don’t we get to work.” Sarah nodded. “Nicole, you get in touch with some people who can keep Justy...“
“And Proctor,” Mike added.
“And Proctor, busy. You guys see if you can’t come up with some believable conference someplace and get him hooked. And please, people, practice your lines!”
Huddled around a lacquered table at Perfume’s Pizza, the cast and directors of Romeo and Juliet sat in gloomy silence. The once steaming pies of delectable pizza now sat cold and untouched. In unison, the group sighed.
“So,” Matt Atanian said, breaking the silence. “Not only are we lacking a set crew, but we’ve no sets. And then there’s the cataclysmic problem of one particularly nasty SPL.”
“Maybe SPL have nasty accident,” Perfume suggested not so vaguely, playing with a rather large butcher’s knife. Mike and Aaron, sitting on either side of the Amazon, visibly paled and scooted their chairs slightly further from her.
Sarah frowned. Perfume looked awfully familiar. Then it hit her. That was the girl she caught Matt making out with in the kitchen of The Church in the Acres! What was she doing here? Sarah wondered testily. Anger surged throughout her body and she didn’t bother to put together the fact that not only was Perfume present at their meeting, but she was also aware of the current problems of the play. Another wave of rage passed over her again when she concluded that Matt and the little strumpet were probably going to get a little action after the meeting.
“Typical male,” she growled under her breath.
Matt heard Sarah mutter something unintelligible but decided against asking her to repeat herself. The look on her face was enough to send a sane man screaming. Nope, better to remain living and intact than to bother Sarah Porter.
“Well.” Nicole cleared her throat. Bill Hughes smiled dreamily at the devious goddess disguised as a Girl Scout beside him. “’Work’ of that type is quite pricey, but attainable.”
“Nicole!” Kirsten exclaimed in horror.
“Well, it is!” Nicole retorted. “And I do have some friends who have some friends who know these people who ‘worked’ along with these ‘workers’ who have the reputation for being reliable.”
“Networking,” Becky Chambers, having spent most of last month working on her Entrepreneurship Patch, nodded in appreciation. Making contacts with people who knew people who were acquainted with people’s dry cleaners always led to something useful.
Nicole excelled at it.
“Can I help it if I have vision?” Nicole smiled innocently.
“But, I don’t relish the thought of spending the rest of my life behind bars,” Bill Gelinas added, grimacing.
“Well, these types of things usually have a way of not getting back to the source. But, I don’t see any of you coming up with anything else,” Nicole said, placing a hand over her mouth as she yawned delicately.
“Nicole Porter,” Sarah growled. Matt could have sworn there was steam seething from her ears. He sighed wistfully, a smile tugging at his lips. She was beautiful when she was enraged. “You and I are going to have a long talk when we get home.”
Nicole grimaced.
“So, any other plans?” Aaron sighed and then hunched over the table, using his arms as a pillow.
“Why don’t we just get Justy preoccupied with something else? Then, as always, he’ll get obsessed about that thing, thus forgetting the play and us,” Mike offered.
“Will it really work?” Kirsten asked.
“WHAT?!” Becker bellowed suddenly, startling the group and causing Matt Swett to promptly loose his balance and fall backwards onto the tiled floor.
“OOF. My jugular!”
“You okay, Swett?” Matt Atanian blinked.
“Ugh...uh, yeah.” Swett grunted painfully. “I’m... ah, I’m gonna go get some ice.” He stumbled to the drink station and pressed his glass to the lever for ice. Swett frowned as his eye caught a single drink can placed beside the Iced Tea dispenser. He hobbled closer and read the label.
“Kiwi/Mocha Fruit Juice,” he read and cringed. “That’s disgusting.” The can seemed to be covered with dents and...marks from someone’s teeth? The can seemed to bare these as badges of honor. It was regal in a sick sort of way.
Well, in the spirit of furthering the damage of the Kiwi/Mocha Fruit Juice, Swett staggered over to the can and decided that this can needed to be placed some where else, and where better than flung over his shoulder? Snatching the up the Kiwi/Mocha fruit juice, he flipped it in his hand and then lobbed it gracefully over his shoulder and out the window that had been somehow conveniently left open.
A yelp of pain came from outside, and then someone yelled, “RANMA!! THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!”
The group blinked a few times and then continued on with business.
“Well, what would best distract Justy from the glory of the spotlight?” Mike asked.
“Another spotlight,” Bill Hughes answered deadpan.
Everyone ignored Will Shmuler who had jumped onto the table, banging a pot with a large metal spoon. Perfume yawned and grabbed Will by the collar, dragged him to the supply closet, and locked him in.
“Correct! The only thing that would successfully draw Justy’s attention elsewhere would have to be an equally enticing proposition,” Mike declared, waving around his spoon. Why someone would need a spoon in an Amazonian pizza parlor with a moody, violent proprietor is anyone’s guess. Mike continued to wave his utensil excitedly.
“Hey!” Aaron exclaimed. “What if we invented some random Boy Scout conference someplace and convince Justy that he’s been selected as the Key Speaker! He’d drop the play for sure.”
“Hmm, yes. And we could insure it a little by getting some of Nicole’s ‘friends’ to keep Justy occupied,” Sarah nodded, then looked sternly to her smirking sister. “Nothing violent, mind you. We just want him preoccupied for a decent amount of time.”
“So, where should we send him?” Gelinas asked. “Abu Dhabi?”
“The place where Garfield always sends Neremal?” Aaron asked dubiously.
“Why not?”
“I don’t know. Neremal always makes it back. Do we really want Justy to make it back?” Mike asked, scrunching his nose in distaste.
“Where’s Abu Dhabi?” Swett interjected.
He was answered by silence.
Matt sighed. Right about now, Kenny would peek up from his latest tomb of knowledge and provide them with another brilliant answer. He had to admit it...he missed the adolescent genius.
“Right.” Matt sighed. “Well, why don’t we find out where it is and if it’s far enough away for Justy to be sent?”
“Pluto wouldn’t be far enough,” Hughes grumbled.
“Well, why don’t we get to work.” Sarah nodded. “Nicole, you get in touch with some people who can keep Justy...“
“And Proctor,” Mike added.
“And Proctor, busy. You guys see if you can’t come up with some believable conference someplace and get him hooked. And please, people, practice your lines!”
16 Days before Opening Night...
“Proctor!”
Within a blink of an eye, Proctor was beside Justy’s side.
“Yes, Captain?” he inquired, dusting an invisible piece of lint off of Justy’s eternally taut uniform.
“What are those?!” Justy demanded, pointing to the green pile of spherical vegetables on his dinner plate.
Proctor leaned over and inspected the pile. “Those are peas, Captain.”
“OF COURSE THEY ARE, IDIOT!” Justy whapped Proctor upside the head with his baton.
Mrs. Yung smiled adoringly at her son as she washed the dishes. It was so nice to see Justy interacting with kids his own age. Proctor was such a sweet child. Of course, it never crossed her mind why Proctor never went home.
“I hate peas, Proctor!” Justy shrieked.
“Yes, Captain.”
“Well, don’t just stand there! Eat!” Justy commanded.
Proctor, detesting peas himself, dutifully took a spoon from the table and began to shovel peas into his mouth. Anything for his Captain.
“Justy dear,” Mrs. Yung cooed, “something came in the mail for you today.” She handed him an envelope, which he promptly handed to Proctor. Proctor fumbled with his spoon for a moment, and then withdrew his Industrial sized Swiss Army Knife, complete with a letter opener, a stapler, and a fax machine! In seconds, the envelope was opened and Justy was examining the contents.
A single sheet of Boy Scouts of America letterhead with a formal letter neatly typed on the crisp white sheet.
Justy coolly surveyed the first couple of lines until his beady little eyes caught the word, “congratulations”. It seemed the Senior Patrol Leaders of certain troops across the nation had been chosen to participate in a retreat that was being held someplace called Abu Dhabi. For a single moment, common sense grabbed a hold of his brain. Since when did the Boy Scouts of America start holding retreats in foreign countries?
As quickly as it came, the common sense dissipated. Justy Yung had been selected for his wit, brilliance, charm, and diligence! It was glorious!!!
“Proctor! Quick! Pack my bags! We’re off to Abu Dhabi!” Justy leapt to stand on his chair, laughing maniacally and waving his baton about.
“Right Sir. Do you want me to finish these first?” Proctor asked, still chomping on the vile peas.
“Proctor!”
Within a blink of an eye, Proctor was beside Justy’s side.
“Yes, Captain?” he inquired, dusting an invisible piece of lint off of Justy’s eternally taut uniform.
“What are those?!” Justy demanded, pointing to the green pile of spherical vegetables on his dinner plate.
Proctor leaned over and inspected the pile. “Those are peas, Captain.”
“OF COURSE THEY ARE, IDIOT!” Justy whapped Proctor upside the head with his baton.
Mrs. Yung smiled adoringly at her son as she washed the dishes. It was so nice to see Justy interacting with kids his own age. Proctor was such a sweet child. Of course, it never crossed her mind why Proctor never went home.
“I hate peas, Proctor!” Justy shrieked.
“Yes, Captain.”
“Well, don’t just stand there! Eat!” Justy commanded.
Proctor, detesting peas himself, dutifully took a spoon from the table and began to shovel peas into his mouth. Anything for his Captain.
“Justy dear,” Mrs. Yung cooed, “something came in the mail for you today.” She handed him an envelope, which he promptly handed to Proctor. Proctor fumbled with his spoon for a moment, and then withdrew his Industrial sized Swiss Army Knife, complete with a letter opener, a stapler, and a fax machine! In seconds, the envelope was opened and Justy was examining the contents.
A single sheet of Boy Scouts of America letterhead with a formal letter neatly typed on the crisp white sheet.
Justy coolly surveyed the first couple of lines until his beady little eyes caught the word, “congratulations”. It seemed the Senior Patrol Leaders of certain troops across the nation had been chosen to participate in a retreat that was being held someplace called Abu Dhabi. For a single moment, common sense grabbed a hold of his brain. Since when did the Boy Scouts of America start holding retreats in foreign countries?
As quickly as it came, the common sense dissipated. Justy Yung had been selected for his wit, brilliance, charm, and diligence! It was glorious!!!
“Proctor! Quick! Pack my bags! We’re off to Abu Dhabi!” Justy leapt to stand on his chair, laughing maniacally and waving his baton about.
“Right Sir. Do you want me to finish these first?” Proctor asked, still chomping on the vile peas.
14 Days before Opening Night...
Aaron gulped and looked at the young, blonde girl before him. She was a mirror reflection of Kirsten, but every fibre of her being screamed Nicole Porter.
Nicole was looking at him oddly, noting his nervous behaviour. She smiled knowingly for a moment and then cocked her head to the side.
“Say Aaron,” she said, “about this kiss thing. What do you say we just settle on a peck on the cheek? I don’t think I’d be too comfortable kissing another guy while I’m with Jason, acting or not. Okay?”
Aaron’s eyes lit up. “Okay! I mean, ahem, if you think it’s best,” he stammered.
Nicole smiled and nodded, glancing over to Kirsten who had been watching the exchange with apprehension. She watched her sister sigh in relief as Aaron quickly accepted her proposition.
That one’s on the house, sis, she thought and smiled softly.
Suddenly, she shook herself. I’m becoming soft! Darting her eyes around the room, she searched for some sort of scheme that would rid her of the warm, fuzzy feeling in her tummy.
Spotting Becker, her mind quickly unfolded a lovely, productive scheme.
“Oh, Bec-ker!” she called in a voice that was almost sickeningly sweet.
Aaron gulped and looked at the young, blonde girl before him. She was a mirror reflection of Kirsten, but every fibre of her being screamed Nicole Porter.
Nicole was looking at him oddly, noting his nervous behaviour. She smiled knowingly for a moment and then cocked her head to the side.
“Say Aaron,” she said, “about this kiss thing. What do you say we just settle on a peck on the cheek? I don’t think I’d be too comfortable kissing another guy while I’m with Jason, acting or not. Okay?”
Aaron’s eyes lit up. “Okay! I mean, ahem, if you think it’s best,” he stammered.
Nicole smiled and nodded, glancing over to Kirsten who had been watching the exchange with apprehension. She watched her sister sigh in relief as Aaron quickly accepted her proposition.
That one’s on the house, sis, she thought and smiled softly.
Suddenly, she shook herself. I’m becoming soft! Darting her eyes around the room, she searched for some sort of scheme that would rid her of the warm, fuzzy feeling in her tummy.
Spotting Becker, her mind quickly unfolded a lovely, productive scheme.
“Oh, Bec-ker!” she called in a voice that was almost sickeningly sweet.
13 Days before Opening Night...
Matthew Atanian watched the cast of Romeo and Juliet and smiled. Some things were still being worked out, but over all, they were in excellent shape. They had abandoned the use of scripts about a week ago and to his delight, they were doing splendidly. People knew their lines and were quick to fall into character.
Perry hadn’t made anymore attempts on the lives of the cursed Scouts, but the boys were still wary of the volatile Amazon. To the surprise of the scouts, Perfume (or Perry) seemed to be enjoying life in the spotlight a little too much.
Matt grimaced. Of course, there was little problem of her speech patterns. Perry couldn’t seem to grasp proper grammar that existed within the English language. Her recitations were often choppy and dragging. The good thing was that Perry seemed to infuse everything with this utter hatred of Romeo and his pals. Of course, he attributed it to the fact that Perry (or Perfume) wanted to kill them. Well, at least the anger in Perry’s voice made up for the halting lines that were seemingly forced from his mouth.
Will Shmuler was still locked in Perfume’s supply closet.
Sarah had seen to their publicity. All of Springfield knew of this play and they were hoping for a good turnout. Although he had Sarah and Kirsten’s word that everything was ok, Matt had his doubts about allowing Nicole and Becky to handle the admission charges. Last night at practice, Nicole had presented an argument that had almost convinced Matt Swett to sell his spleen! Matt shuddered, making a mental note to never be persuaded to discuss financial matters with Nicole Porter.
Matt returned his attention to the scene that was currently being practiced. It was the scene where the Nurse goes to see Romeo. Aaron and Kirsten were exchanging words rapidly, going through the practiced dialogue with ease. He smiled and rolled his eyes. He wished those two would just admit it to themselves that there was more than friendship going on. Of course, whenever confronted the two would just turn beet red and stammer out denials. It was rather amusing in a way, but more frustrating than anything.
His thoughts turned once more to more pressing matters.
Namely, they had no sets.
Matt frowned worriedly and wondered where the smeg Kenny and the Juniors were. They had disappeared without at trace and had taken the sets for the play with them, leaving a note that assured Matt and Sarah that they’d return before Opening Night. Matt groaned inwardly. He wanted to trust Kenny, but he had to be practical. At a loss for ideas and funds, Sarah had suggested performing the play without the use of sets, unless Kenny and the Juniors somehow miraculously appeared.
Opening night was quickly approaching, and a miracle was all they had time for.
At least they had gotten rid of Justy and Proctor.
Matthew Atanian watched the cast of Romeo and Juliet and smiled. Some things were still being worked out, but over all, they were in excellent shape. They had abandoned the use of scripts about a week ago and to his delight, they were doing splendidly. People knew their lines and were quick to fall into character.
Perry hadn’t made anymore attempts on the lives of the cursed Scouts, but the boys were still wary of the volatile Amazon. To the surprise of the scouts, Perfume (or Perry) seemed to be enjoying life in the spotlight a little too much.
Matt grimaced. Of course, there was little problem of her speech patterns. Perry couldn’t seem to grasp proper grammar that existed within the English language. Her recitations were often choppy and dragging. The good thing was that Perry seemed to infuse everything with this utter hatred of Romeo and his pals. Of course, he attributed it to the fact that Perry (or Perfume) wanted to kill them. Well, at least the anger in Perry’s voice made up for the halting lines that were seemingly forced from his mouth.
Will Shmuler was still locked in Perfume’s supply closet.
Sarah had seen to their publicity. All of Springfield knew of this play and they were hoping for a good turnout. Although he had Sarah and Kirsten’s word that everything was ok, Matt had his doubts about allowing Nicole and Becky to handle the admission charges. Last night at practice, Nicole had presented an argument that had almost convinced Matt Swett to sell his spleen! Matt shuddered, making a mental note to never be persuaded to discuss financial matters with Nicole Porter.
Matt returned his attention to the scene that was currently being practiced. It was the scene where the Nurse goes to see Romeo. Aaron and Kirsten were exchanging words rapidly, going through the practiced dialogue with ease. He smiled and rolled his eyes. He wished those two would just admit it to themselves that there was more than friendship going on. Of course, whenever confronted the two would just turn beet red and stammer out denials. It was rather amusing in a way, but more frustrating than anything.
His thoughts turned once more to more pressing matters.
Namely, they had no sets.
Matt frowned worriedly and wondered where the smeg Kenny and the Juniors were. They had disappeared without at trace and had taken the sets for the play with them, leaving a note that assured Matt and Sarah that they’d return before Opening Night. Matt groaned inwardly. He wanted to trust Kenny, but he had to be practical. At a loss for ideas and funds, Sarah had suggested performing the play without the use of sets, unless Kenny and the Juniors somehow miraculously appeared.
Opening night was quickly approaching, and a miracle was all they had time for.
At least they had gotten rid of Justy and Proctor.
10 Days before Opening Night...
Justy looked around him in disgust.
He was in the middle of a Pakistani bazaar. People donned long white, black, or multicolored robes swarmed around him. Merchants and customers shouted back and forth, haggling in a foreign tongue. More than once he was shoved aside by a cow or herd of goats, driven by a young boy.
There was dust everywhere.
Including on Justy’s usually spit spot uniform. The combination of camel and cattle dung, dead fish rotting in the sun, pungent overripe fruits, and other unknown smells was overwhelming. Justy paled, feeling that all too familiar sense of nausea that had become a constant during this trip, creep over him.
Justy’s stomach gurgled unhappily and then was suddenly emptied into a nearby alleyway. Vomit joined the cache of stenches in the city street.
“Proctor!” Justy croaked.
“Yes, Captain!”
Proctor wet his handkerchief with his canteen and washed Justy’s face clean of the vomit. While Justy leaned against the mud brick wall, Proctor procured a toothbrush and paste from Justy’s pack (which of course he was carrying) and proceeded to squeeze the gel from the tooth and pat it down with his tongue.
“Here you are, Captain.”
Justy took the offered item and proceeded to brush his teeth, staring despondently at the crowd milling just beyond the mouth of the alley.
Proctor took a deep breath of air and smiled brightly. “Isn’t this exciting, Captain? It’s a marvelous day to be at the bazaar!”
Justy stared at Proctor, weak from his battle with his stomach’s innards. He feebly raised his baton and batted it against Proctor’s head.
“Quiet, idiot,” he said weakly.
“Yes, sir.”
Justy looked around him in disgust.
He was in the middle of a Pakistani bazaar. People donned long white, black, or multicolored robes swarmed around him. Merchants and customers shouted back and forth, haggling in a foreign tongue. More than once he was shoved aside by a cow or herd of goats, driven by a young boy.
There was dust everywhere.
Including on Justy’s usually spit spot uniform. The combination of camel and cattle dung, dead fish rotting in the sun, pungent overripe fruits, and other unknown smells was overwhelming. Justy paled, feeling that all too familiar sense of nausea that had become a constant during this trip, creep over him.
Justy’s stomach gurgled unhappily and then was suddenly emptied into a nearby alleyway. Vomit joined the cache of stenches in the city street.
“Proctor!” Justy croaked.
“Yes, Captain!”
Proctor wet his handkerchief with his canteen and washed Justy’s face clean of the vomit. While Justy leaned against the mud brick wall, Proctor procured a toothbrush and paste from Justy’s pack (which of course he was carrying) and proceeded to squeeze the gel from the tooth and pat it down with his tongue.
“Here you are, Captain.”
Justy took the offered item and proceeded to brush his teeth, staring despondently at the crowd milling just beyond the mouth of the alley.
Proctor took a deep breath of air and smiled brightly. “Isn’t this exciting, Captain? It’s a marvelous day to be at the bazaar!”
Justy stared at Proctor, weak from his battle with his stomach’s innards. He feebly raised his baton and batted it against Proctor’s head.
“Quiet, idiot,” he said weakly.
“Yes, sir.”
8 Days before Opening Night...
Kenneth E. Pendrell looked up from the large tome he was engrossed in and set his pencil down. With a quick look at his watch for confirmation, the young genius nodded.
Slowly, he closed the book and stacked the papers before him neatly.
He stood up, attracting the attention of the Juniors scattered about the well-lit room.
“It is time we go.”
The Juniors nodded and performed the same actions as he had. One by one, they stood and straightened their green uniforms.
Kenny shined his glasses and set them again on his face, pushing them up by the nose-bridge. He looked the group over and nodded, walking slowly from the room.
The Juniors looked at one another, nodded simultaneously, and followed.
Kenneth E. Pendrell looked up from the large tome he was engrossed in and set his pencil down. With a quick look at his watch for confirmation, the young genius nodded.
Slowly, he closed the book and stacked the papers before him neatly.
He stood up, attracting the attention of the Juniors scattered about the well-lit room.
“It is time we go.”
The Juniors nodded and performed the same actions as he had. One by one, they stood and straightened their green uniforms.
Kenny shined his glasses and set them again on his face, pushing them up by the nose-bridge. He looked the group over and nodded, walking slowly from the room.
The Juniors looked at one another, nodded simultaneously, and followed.
4 Days before Opening Night...
The five cursed Scouts smiled at one another, sweaty, tired, and satisfied with their work in transforming the hall into a splendid looking theatre.
The stage consisted of a nicely made raised platform, thick curtains complete with a working pulley system and sand bags, a pretty decent lighting system, a small but workable back stage, and even a couple of dressing rooms.
The seats for the audience were in neat rows that softly curved around their stage.
“Now, if we only had the sets,” Aaron mussed.
“Kenny will come back,” Mike said solemnly. “He’s a trustworthy kid.”
“We can count on him,” Bill Hughes added.
“He will.” Matt nodded in agreement, looking at the finished work before them. “Well, you guys,” he said looking at his watch. “We’d better get going. Don’t forget Dress Rehearsal tomorrow from 3 to 8.”
The others groaned but obediently turned to leave the building.
Just as they were leaving the building, a large, black cloud suddenly covered the sun.
And then the heavens opened and it poured down rain.
A red headed girl, a duck, a squirrel, a cat, and a dog stood beneath the pelting raindrops in piles of clothing and felt the all too familiar feeling of frustration settle upon them.
“Come to think of it guys,” Matty said, “it’d be a good idea to keep lots of hot water on hand on Opening Night, just in case.”
The five cursed Scouts smiled at one another, sweaty, tired, and satisfied with their work in transforming the hall into a splendid looking theatre.
The stage consisted of a nicely made raised platform, thick curtains complete with a working pulley system and sand bags, a pretty decent lighting system, a small but workable back stage, and even a couple of dressing rooms.
The seats for the audience were in neat rows that softly curved around their stage.
“Now, if we only had the sets,” Aaron mussed.
“Kenny will come back,” Mike said solemnly. “He’s a trustworthy kid.”
“We can count on him,” Bill Hughes added.
“He will.” Matt nodded in agreement, looking at the finished work before them. “Well, you guys,” he said looking at his watch. “We’d better get going. Don’t forget Dress Rehearsal tomorrow from 3 to 8.”
The others groaned but obediently turned to leave the building.
Just as they were leaving the building, a large, black cloud suddenly covered the sun.
And then the heavens opened and it poured down rain.
A red headed girl, a duck, a squirrel, a cat, and a dog stood beneath the pelting raindrops in piles of clothing and felt the all too familiar feeling of frustration settle upon them.
“Come to think of it guys,” Matty said, “it’d be a good idea to keep lots of hot water on hand on Opening Night, just in case.”
3 Days before Opening Night...
Justy Yung stood in the middle of a desert, the scorching sun unleashing its savage rays without mercy. His uniform was torn, he was covered with dust and sand, and smelled worse than a pile of manure sunbathing in the middle of a garbage heap. His right hand was clenching and unclenching around the slim baton that had been a gift from Proctor. A slight twitch appeared spasmodically next to his left eye and a large vein was pulsing in his forehead.
Justy was far from happy.
“Uh, Captain?” Proctor called timidly from behind him. “I think we’ve been had, sir.”
If Justy was bad, Proctor was horrendous. He hadn’t bathed well over a week (giving Justy all the spare water), he was dressed in the scraps that hadn’t been used to mend Justy’s uniform, and his skin resembled the colour of a lobster.
Justy calmly turned to Proctor, fixed him with a glare that would put a basilisk to shame, and spoke in an eerily calm manner.
“When I get back to Springfield, their hearts and spleens will be mine. They shall fear the wrath of JUSTY YUNG!” He threw his hands to the sky and let forth a sputtering, maniacal laughter that was sure to have created a good-sized earthquake somewhere around the southern half of California.
“Uh, sir?”
Laughter.
“Sir?”
More laughter.
“Right sir.” Proctor sighed and sat down to wait out his Captain’s latest break from sanity.
Justy Yung stood in the middle of a desert, the scorching sun unleashing its savage rays without mercy. His uniform was torn, he was covered with dust and sand, and smelled worse than a pile of manure sunbathing in the middle of a garbage heap. His right hand was clenching and unclenching around the slim baton that had been a gift from Proctor. A slight twitch appeared spasmodically next to his left eye and a large vein was pulsing in his forehead.
Justy was far from happy.
“Uh, Captain?” Proctor called timidly from behind him. “I think we’ve been had, sir.”
If Justy was bad, Proctor was horrendous. He hadn’t bathed well over a week (giving Justy all the spare water), he was dressed in the scraps that hadn’t been used to mend Justy’s uniform, and his skin resembled the colour of a lobster.
Justy calmly turned to Proctor, fixed him with a glare that would put a basilisk to shame, and spoke in an eerily calm manner.
“When I get back to Springfield, their hearts and spleens will be mine. They shall fear the wrath of JUSTY YUNG!” He threw his hands to the sky and let forth a sputtering, maniacal laughter that was sure to have created a good-sized earthquake somewhere around the southern half of California.
“Uh, sir?”
Laughter.
“Sir?”
More laughter.
“Right sir.” Proctor sighed and sat down to wait out his Captain’s latest break from sanity.
Opening Night...
5 hours before Curtain Call...
Matt Atanian walked through the main door to the Church in the Acres and felt his stomach tense. He adjusted his trench coat and pulled at his fedora.
“Great,” he grumbled. “Five hours to go and I’m already nervous.”
“Honestly, Atanian,” Sarah’s voice called to him from behind, “you’ve got to learn some control.” She strode past him.
Matt was about to make a reply when he noticed the unnaturally tight grip she had on her purse. The straps looked like they were about to be torn to bits. He smiled to himself, shaking his head as he followed her in.
Well, at least he wasn’t the only one who was nervous, even if she wouldn’t admit to it.
Matt followed Sarah into the auditorium and then his jaw dropped.
He blinked a couple of times and then rubbed his eyes in disbelief.
It was still there.
On their makeshift stage, was a realistic looking scene of a sixteenth century Italian city square. Shops, stalls, wagons of wares, and other random props dotted the platform, even a working fountain that bubbled with sparkling clear water.
Matt, his jaw slack, stumbled to the stage for a closer inspection. Sarah quickly followed him, her eyes bulging.
The makes of this set had seen to every single detail. The walls of the “shops” and the tiles on the “roofs” had small traces of erosion, flowers and vines dotted the windowsills, and there was a faint chirping sound in the background that was followed up by a slight breeze.
“We tried to make it as realistic as possible, Mr. Atanian,” a quite voice said from behind him. “Is it suitable?”
Matt twirled about to find Kenny and his crew of Juniors standing silently before him. Kenny smiled and pushed his glasses up on his nose. The Juniors nodded toward Matt as one and then in unison smiled at Sarah.
Matt smiled in relief and rushed forward to grasp the young boy’s hand. “It’s better than suitable, Kenny! It’s fantastic!” he said exuberantly, clapping his hand on Kenny’s back. “I’m so glad you’re back!”
“It’s magnificent Kenny!” Sarah said, matching Matt’s excitement. She gave the boy a brief hug and then moved off to greet her Juniors.
The group was momentarily distracted by the arrival of the rest of the cast.
“Would ya' look at that!”
“Great googely moogely!!”
“WHAT?!”
“Awesome!”
“Hey Kenny!”
“KENNY!” the entire group bellowed, rushing over to welcome the boy and the girls back.
5 hours before Curtain Call...
Matt Atanian walked through the main door to the Church in the Acres and felt his stomach tense. He adjusted his trench coat and pulled at his fedora.
“Great,” he grumbled. “Five hours to go and I’m already nervous.”
“Honestly, Atanian,” Sarah’s voice called to him from behind, “you’ve got to learn some control.” She strode past him.
Matt was about to make a reply when he noticed the unnaturally tight grip she had on her purse. The straps looked like they were about to be torn to bits. He smiled to himself, shaking his head as he followed her in.
Well, at least he wasn’t the only one who was nervous, even if she wouldn’t admit to it.
Matt followed Sarah into the auditorium and then his jaw dropped.
He blinked a couple of times and then rubbed his eyes in disbelief.
It was still there.
On their makeshift stage, was a realistic looking scene of a sixteenth century Italian city square. Shops, stalls, wagons of wares, and other random props dotted the platform, even a working fountain that bubbled with sparkling clear water.
Matt, his jaw slack, stumbled to the stage for a closer inspection. Sarah quickly followed him, her eyes bulging.
The makes of this set had seen to every single detail. The walls of the “shops” and the tiles on the “roofs” had small traces of erosion, flowers and vines dotted the windowsills, and there was a faint chirping sound in the background that was followed up by a slight breeze.
“We tried to make it as realistic as possible, Mr. Atanian,” a quite voice said from behind him. “Is it suitable?”
Matt twirled about to find Kenny and his crew of Juniors standing silently before him. Kenny smiled and pushed his glasses up on his nose. The Juniors nodded toward Matt as one and then in unison smiled at Sarah.
Matt smiled in relief and rushed forward to grasp the young boy’s hand. “It’s better than suitable, Kenny! It’s fantastic!” he said exuberantly, clapping his hand on Kenny’s back. “I’m so glad you’re back!”
“It’s magnificent Kenny!” Sarah said, matching Matt’s excitement. She gave the boy a brief hug and then moved off to greet her Juniors.
The group was momentarily distracted by the arrival of the rest of the cast.
“Would ya' look at that!”
“Great googely moogely!!”
“WHAT?!”
“Awesome!”
“Hey Kenny!”
“KENNY!” the entire group bellowed, rushing over to welcome the boy and the girls back.
3 hours before Curtain Call...
“It’s completely computerized, Mr. Atanian,” Kenny was saying as he patiently explained the workings of the set to Matt and Sarah. “One of the Juniors and myself shall be at the main console while the others stand by to ensure a smooth precedence of the sets on and off the stage. The computer has been programmed to allow for some minor time delays here and there, otherwise there shall be a steady changing of sets.“
“Oh Kenny, this is better than we could have ever hoped for!” Sarah breathed, staring at the console in amazement. “Thank you so much.”
“You’re quite welcome, Miss Sarah.” Kenny smiled and bowed his head modestly. “The Juniors and I are honored to have worked for you and are looking forward to a spectacular show.”
“It’s completely computerized, Mr. Atanian,” Kenny was saying as he patiently explained the workings of the set to Matt and Sarah. “One of the Juniors and myself shall be at the main console while the others stand by to ensure a smooth precedence of the sets on and off the stage. The computer has been programmed to allow for some minor time delays here and there, otherwise there shall be a steady changing of sets.“
“Oh Kenny, this is better than we could have ever hoped for!” Sarah breathed, staring at the console in amazement. “Thank you so much.”
“You’re quite welcome, Miss Sarah.” Kenny smiled and bowed his head modestly. “The Juniors and I are honored to have worked for you and are looking forward to a spectacular show.”
1 hour before Curtain Call...
“Well, the lights are on, the refreshments are set out, the cast is getting ready, and the directors are pacing nervously,” Bill Hughes said, watching Matt and Sarah muttering to themselves as they strode back and forth at the foot of the stage.
“I think we’re set,” Aaron nodded.
“All we need now is an audience.” Mike sighed.
As if answering Mike’s comment, three cars pulled into the parking lot of The Church in the Acres. Several more followed. It seemed like people were intent on getting a good seat for the show.
“Uh, check on that last one Mike,” Matt Swett said joining them.
“Well then!” Mike grinned and rubbed his hands together. “Let’s get back and finish getting ready!”
“Well, the lights are on, the refreshments are set out, the cast is getting ready, and the directors are pacing nervously,” Bill Hughes said, watching Matt and Sarah muttering to themselves as they strode back and forth at the foot of the stage.
“I think we’re set,” Aaron nodded.
“All we need now is an audience.” Mike sighed.
As if answering Mike’s comment, three cars pulled into the parking lot of The Church in the Acres. Several more followed. It seemed like people were intent on getting a good seat for the show.
“Uh, check on that last one Mike,” Matt Swett said joining them.
“Well then!” Mike grinned and rubbed his hands together. “Let’s get back and finish getting ready!”
Curtain Call...
The lights flickered, announcing the beginning of the play.
“Girl Scout Troop 42 and Boy Scout Troop 192 are proud to present Shakespeare’s all time thrilling tragedy, Romeo and Juliet.”
The audience applauded and some of the casts’ names were called out, ceasing when the curtains parted to reveal a small girl, no older than ten.
Matt and Sarah watched in nervous excitement as a Brownie Girl Scout sauntered on stage, the feather in her velvet cap dancing atop her head.
She was quite for a moment, causing Matt and Sarah to wince in the painful silence.
“Two houses!” She strongly called out. She continued her speech, reciting the lines perfectly.
The small girl smiled, a bottom front tooth missing, bowed and swept grandly off the stage.
Matt looked at Sarah.
Sarah looked at Matt.
“So far,” Matt said.
“So good,” Sarah added.
The show went rather smoothly. The cast remembered their lines perfectly, the sets were amazing, and the audience absolutely loved it.
Aaron smiled smugly to himself as he prepared to stroll onstage for the next scene. Nicole was up on the balcony, and Aaron walked onstage and delivered the opening monologue to the scene.
Then Nicole spoke. “Ay me!” she said.
“She speaks,” Aaron said, speaking more to the audience then to his co-star. “O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art As glorious to this night, being o'er my head As is a winged messenger of heaven Unto the white-upturned wondering eyes Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds And sails upon the bosom of the air.” As he spoke, he failed to notice movement from just off stage.
“O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name; Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, And I'll no longer be a Capulet.”
“Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?”
“'Tis but thy name that is my enemy; Thou art thyself, though not a Montague. What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot, Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part Belonging to a man. O, be some other name! What's in a name? that which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet; So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd, Retain that dear perfection which he owes Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name, And for that name which is no part of thee Take all myself.”
“I take thee at thy word: Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized; Henceforth I never will be Romeo.”
Aaron was startled as someone came out onto the stage shouting, “You no be Romeo, you be dead!”
Aaron turned and was then further startled to see Perry moving towards him, hefting a large pointed stick and as the distance closed between them Aaron could see ‘death’ in the Amazon’s eyes. Aaron gasped in horror.
Nicole, unsure how what was going on, went on with her next line.
“What man art thou that thus bescreen'd in night So stumblest on my counsel?”
Aaron forgot his next line.
Aaron panicked and forgot his line.
But that wasn’t what was making his stomach churn with fear.
He gulped and glanced nervously toward the Backstage, in hopes that Matt or Sarah would be watching and ready.
They were watching all right, but they were far from ready.
“Oh no! Not now! Not now! What the hell is Perry doing?!” Matt exclaimed.
“What about the play?” Sarah asked.
“Line, line, line,” Matt chanted, flipping quickly through the script.
“Go back! You missed it!” Sarah hissed.
Suddenly, Bill Gelinas appeared behind Matt and Sarah. “Hey, you two, Aaron and Mike are in a life-or-death situation here, and you’re worried about lines in the play?”
Matt looked at Sarah. Sarah looked at Matt. They both turned to Bill.
“SHUT UP, BILL!!!”
They turned back to the script. Bill wandered away.
“This play book isn’t big enough for the two of us,” Matt muttered under his breath.
Sarah visibly restrained herself from snatching it from Matt and smashing it over his head. Meanwhile, the audience was staring in disbelief as Tybalt appeared on stage and ran towards Romeo.
“Got it!” Matt whooped triumphantly.
This time Sarah did snatch the book away and brushed haughtily past Matt.
"By a name I know not how to tell!” she hissed to Aaron.
Aaron’s face flooded, not with relief, but with horror.
"By a name I know not how to tell thee who I am: My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself, Because it is an enemy to thee; but forgive me for now I must flee, for there is a mad Amazon after me!”
“That’s not the line!” Sarah frowned and flipped through the playbook, engrossed in the pages.
The audience was on the edge of their seats as the play took a most unexpected turn.
Aaron tried to run but Petty caught up to him and blocked his escape. Mike suddenly came onto the stage from the opposite side and tossed Aaron a sword and shield. Aaron smiled gratefully and caught the aforementioned items.
For the second time that day, Aaron gasped in horror. He looked down to his hands in the sort of numb disbelief that accompanies a realization that one’s life is in danger.
He was holding cardboard props while a very angry and violent Amazon with a pike bore down on him. “What is this, History of the World?” he exclaimed.
Mike was similarly armed and turned to Perry. “Thy head is as fun of quarrels as an egg is full of meat, and yet thy head hath been beaten as addle as an egg for quarrelling: thou hast quarrelled with a man for coughing in the street, because he hath wakened thy dog that hath lain asleep in the sun: didst thou not fall out with a tailor for wearing his new doublet before Easter? with another, for tying his new shoes with old riband? and yet thou wilt tutor me from quarrelling!”
“Romeo find Tybalt apt to that, Romeo give occasion,” Perry responded, a smile on his face. He turned to Aaron. “Romeo, hate Tybalt bear thee can afford No better term than this, –art villain. All villains. All die!!”
Perry lunged, barely missing Aaron. The audience applauded. Back stage, Matt and Sarah looked at each other, bewilderment on their faces.
“You know,” Matt said.
Sarah finished his thought. “I think we could pull this off,” she said.
They hastily grabbed some paper and some pencils and set to work.
Back on stage, Aaron and Mike avoided another attack, although Perry managed to take a chunk out of Mike’s shield. “I do protest, I never injured thee,” Aaron said to the Amazon. “And so, good Capulet, –which name I tender As dearly as my own, –be satisfied.”
“Tybalt not satisfied!” Perry hollered. “Tybalt cursed because of Romeo and friends!”
“Romeo, Mercutio, I prey thee be careful!” Nicole shouted in encouragement.
Suddenly Mike saw something flying towards him from off stage. He caught it, and was surprised to see it was a rather sturdy handle taken from one of the Church in the Acre’s brooms. He glanced off stage and saw Hughes and Gelinas both offer him thumbs up.
Mike took a step towards Perry. “O calm, dishonourable, vile submission! Alla stoccata arries it away.” He held the broom handle out in front of him, trying to hold it like a quarterstaff. He hoped all the times that he had watched Robin Hood: Men in Tights would serve him well. “Tybalt, you rat‑catcher, will you walk?”
“What have with Tybalt?” Perry responded.
“Good king of cats, nothing but one of your nine lives; that I mean to make bold withal, and as you shall use me hereafter, drybeat the rest of the eight. Will you pluck your sword out of his pitcher by the ears? make haste, lest mine be about your ears ere it be out.”
Perry stepped towards Mike. “I for you.”
Aaron was concerned. Was Mike crazy? As inept as she... he... may be, Perry was still an Amazon warrior where as Mike was... Mike was Mike. “Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up.”
Mike paid him no heed. For some reason, being on stage gave him a bravado greater then he might normally possess. He sneered at Perry. “Come, sir, your passado.”
A fight immediately began between the two. The audience began cheering as Mike and Perry moved back and fourth, each gaining ground and then loosing it.
Aaron could not help but still be concerned for his friend’s safety, and of course for his own, as well. “Gentlemen, for shame, forbear this outrage! Tybalt, Mercutio, the prince expressly hath Forbidden bandying in Verona streets: Hold, Tybalt! good Mercutio!”
Of course, Perry didn’t listen, and thus Mike could not afford to listen. The two of them kept beating their weapons together, Mike’s broom handle and Perry’s pointed stick. Occasionally, Perry tried thrusting the pointed end at Mike, but he continually deflected it away. However, on the seventh or eighth try, the deflection was not entirely successful.
Mike heard a tearing sound and saw a large rip in one of his pant legs. A thin red line was visible on his skin. Filled with adrenaline, he felt nothing.
The audience gasped. “What realistic effects!” someone commented.
“Mercutio!” Aaron and Nicole both called out.
“Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch,” Mike responded.
“Courage, man,” Aaron said, “the hurt cannot be much.”
Perry, however, smiled. “Time you die,” he said. He swung his stick around and hit Mike in the side of the head. Mike fell, and Aaron ran to his side.
He was alive, and while he’d have a hell of a headache and the mother of all bruises, it seemed like he’d be fine. At the moment, however, he was unconscious. Aaron took the broom handle from Mike and gripped it tightly. “This day's black fate on more days doth depend; This but begins the woe, others must end.”
He rose and faced Perry. “Alive, in triumph! and Mercutio slain! Away to heaven, respective lenity, And fire-eyed fury be my conduct now! Now, Tybalt, take the villain back again, That late thou gavest me; for Mercutio's soul Is but a little way above our heads, Staying for thine to keep him company: Either thou, or I, or both, must go with him. “
“Wretched boy, consort him here, Shalt with him hence,” Perry spat back.
Aaron smiled slightly, his grip on the broom handle tightening. “This shall determine that.”
He charged.
Perry brought up the stick to block Aaron’s attack, but the broom handle snapped the stick clean in two. Aaron swung again, sweeping Perry’s feet out from underneath him. Perry fell hard and Aaron pinned him to the ground.
“Hark!” Aaron said. “Here comes Paris and Benvolio with some rope!”
Off stage, the Bills glanced at each other, confused.
“Hark!” Aaron said again. “The rope!”
The Bills glanced at each other again, and then ran off to find some rope. They returned moments later and helped Aaron tie Perry up.
The audience, who had been enthralled during the fighting, now seemed to be loosing interest and starting to wonder why the play seemed to have taken this odd turn. Nicole, determined to get things moving again, hoped Gelinas wouldn’t mind if she pinched one of his lines.
“Romeo, away, be gone!” she said. “The citizens are up, and Tybalt slain. Stand not amazed: the prince will doom thee death, If thou art taken: hence, be gone, away!”
Aaron took this queue to heft Perry up and drag him off of the stage. “O, I am fortune’s fool!” he commented as he went. The Bills tended to Mike, treating him with more care then Aaron showed Perry as their removed him from the stage.
Matt and Sarah looked up at the proceedings and then looked at each other. They nodded. Without even needing to vocalize their thoughts to one another, they knew that now was the time.
“Kenny! Do it!” Matt quietly called out.
From the control booth, Kenny lowered the curtain. Then a series of lasers lowered itself from the ceiling behind the audience and beams shot fourth, hitting the curtain and moving rapidly to form a single word: Intermission.
The lights flickered, announcing the beginning of the play.
“Girl Scout Troop 42 and Boy Scout Troop 192 are proud to present Shakespeare’s all time thrilling tragedy, Romeo and Juliet.”
The audience applauded and some of the casts’ names were called out, ceasing when the curtains parted to reveal a small girl, no older than ten.
Matt and Sarah watched in nervous excitement as a Brownie Girl Scout sauntered on stage, the feather in her velvet cap dancing atop her head.
She was quite for a moment, causing Matt and Sarah to wince in the painful silence.
“Two houses!” She strongly called out. She continued her speech, reciting the lines perfectly.
The small girl smiled, a bottom front tooth missing, bowed and swept grandly off the stage.
Matt looked at Sarah.
Sarah looked at Matt.
“So far,” Matt said.
“So good,” Sarah added.
The show went rather smoothly. The cast remembered their lines perfectly, the sets were amazing, and the audience absolutely loved it.
Aaron smiled smugly to himself as he prepared to stroll onstage for the next scene. Nicole was up on the balcony, and Aaron walked onstage and delivered the opening monologue to the scene.
Then Nicole spoke. “Ay me!” she said.
“She speaks,” Aaron said, speaking more to the audience then to his co-star. “O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art As glorious to this night, being o'er my head As is a winged messenger of heaven Unto the white-upturned wondering eyes Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds And sails upon the bosom of the air.” As he spoke, he failed to notice movement from just off stage.
“O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name; Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, And I'll no longer be a Capulet.”
“Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?”
“'Tis but thy name that is my enemy; Thou art thyself, though not a Montague. What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot, Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part Belonging to a man. O, be some other name! What's in a name? that which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet; So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd, Retain that dear perfection which he owes Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name, And for that name which is no part of thee Take all myself.”
“I take thee at thy word: Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized; Henceforth I never will be Romeo.”
Aaron was startled as someone came out onto the stage shouting, “You no be Romeo, you be dead!”
Aaron turned and was then further startled to see Perry moving towards him, hefting a large pointed stick and as the distance closed between them Aaron could see ‘death’ in the Amazon’s eyes. Aaron gasped in horror.
Nicole, unsure how what was going on, went on with her next line.
“What man art thou that thus bescreen'd in night So stumblest on my counsel?”
Aaron forgot his next line.
Aaron panicked and forgot his line.
But that wasn’t what was making his stomach churn with fear.
He gulped and glanced nervously toward the Backstage, in hopes that Matt or Sarah would be watching and ready.
They were watching all right, but they were far from ready.
“Oh no! Not now! Not now! What the hell is Perry doing?!” Matt exclaimed.
“What about the play?” Sarah asked.
“Line, line, line,” Matt chanted, flipping quickly through the script.
“Go back! You missed it!” Sarah hissed.
Suddenly, Bill Gelinas appeared behind Matt and Sarah. “Hey, you two, Aaron and Mike are in a life-or-death situation here, and you’re worried about lines in the play?”
Matt looked at Sarah. Sarah looked at Matt. They both turned to Bill.
“SHUT UP, BILL!!!”
They turned back to the script. Bill wandered away.
“This play book isn’t big enough for the two of us,” Matt muttered under his breath.
Sarah visibly restrained herself from snatching it from Matt and smashing it over his head. Meanwhile, the audience was staring in disbelief as Tybalt appeared on stage and ran towards Romeo.
“Got it!” Matt whooped triumphantly.
This time Sarah did snatch the book away and brushed haughtily past Matt.
"By a name I know not how to tell!” she hissed to Aaron.
Aaron’s face flooded, not with relief, but with horror.
"By a name I know not how to tell thee who I am: My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself, Because it is an enemy to thee; but forgive me for now I must flee, for there is a mad Amazon after me!”
“That’s not the line!” Sarah frowned and flipped through the playbook, engrossed in the pages.
The audience was on the edge of their seats as the play took a most unexpected turn.
Aaron tried to run but Petty caught up to him and blocked his escape. Mike suddenly came onto the stage from the opposite side and tossed Aaron a sword and shield. Aaron smiled gratefully and caught the aforementioned items.
For the second time that day, Aaron gasped in horror. He looked down to his hands in the sort of numb disbelief that accompanies a realization that one’s life is in danger.
He was holding cardboard props while a very angry and violent Amazon with a pike bore down on him. “What is this, History of the World?” he exclaimed.
Mike was similarly armed and turned to Perry. “Thy head is as fun of quarrels as an egg is full of meat, and yet thy head hath been beaten as addle as an egg for quarrelling: thou hast quarrelled with a man for coughing in the street, because he hath wakened thy dog that hath lain asleep in the sun: didst thou not fall out with a tailor for wearing his new doublet before Easter? with another, for tying his new shoes with old riband? and yet thou wilt tutor me from quarrelling!”
“Romeo find Tybalt apt to that, Romeo give occasion,” Perry responded, a smile on his face. He turned to Aaron. “Romeo, hate Tybalt bear thee can afford No better term than this, –art villain. All villains. All die!!”
Perry lunged, barely missing Aaron. The audience applauded. Back stage, Matt and Sarah looked at each other, bewilderment on their faces.
“You know,” Matt said.
Sarah finished his thought. “I think we could pull this off,” she said.
They hastily grabbed some paper and some pencils and set to work.
Back on stage, Aaron and Mike avoided another attack, although Perry managed to take a chunk out of Mike’s shield. “I do protest, I never injured thee,” Aaron said to the Amazon. “And so, good Capulet, –which name I tender As dearly as my own, –be satisfied.”
“Tybalt not satisfied!” Perry hollered. “Tybalt cursed because of Romeo and friends!”
“Romeo, Mercutio, I prey thee be careful!” Nicole shouted in encouragement.
Suddenly Mike saw something flying towards him from off stage. He caught it, and was surprised to see it was a rather sturdy handle taken from one of the Church in the Acre’s brooms. He glanced off stage and saw Hughes and Gelinas both offer him thumbs up.
Mike took a step towards Perry. “O calm, dishonourable, vile submission! Alla stoccata arries it away.” He held the broom handle out in front of him, trying to hold it like a quarterstaff. He hoped all the times that he had watched Robin Hood: Men in Tights would serve him well. “Tybalt, you rat‑catcher, will you walk?”
“What have with Tybalt?” Perry responded.
“Good king of cats, nothing but one of your nine lives; that I mean to make bold withal, and as you shall use me hereafter, drybeat the rest of the eight. Will you pluck your sword out of his pitcher by the ears? make haste, lest mine be about your ears ere it be out.”
Perry stepped towards Mike. “I for you.”
Aaron was concerned. Was Mike crazy? As inept as she... he... may be, Perry was still an Amazon warrior where as Mike was... Mike was Mike. “Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up.”
Mike paid him no heed. For some reason, being on stage gave him a bravado greater then he might normally possess. He sneered at Perry. “Come, sir, your passado.”
A fight immediately began between the two. The audience began cheering as Mike and Perry moved back and fourth, each gaining ground and then loosing it.
Aaron could not help but still be concerned for his friend’s safety, and of course for his own, as well. “Gentlemen, for shame, forbear this outrage! Tybalt, Mercutio, the prince expressly hath Forbidden bandying in Verona streets: Hold, Tybalt! good Mercutio!”
Of course, Perry didn’t listen, and thus Mike could not afford to listen. The two of them kept beating their weapons together, Mike’s broom handle and Perry’s pointed stick. Occasionally, Perry tried thrusting the pointed end at Mike, but he continually deflected it away. However, on the seventh or eighth try, the deflection was not entirely successful.
Mike heard a tearing sound and saw a large rip in one of his pant legs. A thin red line was visible on his skin. Filled with adrenaline, he felt nothing.
The audience gasped. “What realistic effects!” someone commented.
“Mercutio!” Aaron and Nicole both called out.
“Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch,” Mike responded.
“Courage, man,” Aaron said, “the hurt cannot be much.”
Perry, however, smiled. “Time you die,” he said. He swung his stick around and hit Mike in the side of the head. Mike fell, and Aaron ran to his side.
He was alive, and while he’d have a hell of a headache and the mother of all bruises, it seemed like he’d be fine. At the moment, however, he was unconscious. Aaron took the broom handle from Mike and gripped it tightly. “This day's black fate on more days doth depend; This but begins the woe, others must end.”
He rose and faced Perry. “Alive, in triumph! and Mercutio slain! Away to heaven, respective lenity, And fire-eyed fury be my conduct now! Now, Tybalt, take the villain back again, That late thou gavest me; for Mercutio's soul Is but a little way above our heads, Staying for thine to keep him company: Either thou, or I, or both, must go with him. “
“Wretched boy, consort him here, Shalt with him hence,” Perry spat back.
Aaron smiled slightly, his grip on the broom handle tightening. “This shall determine that.”
He charged.
Perry brought up the stick to block Aaron’s attack, but the broom handle snapped the stick clean in two. Aaron swung again, sweeping Perry’s feet out from underneath him. Perry fell hard and Aaron pinned him to the ground.
“Hark!” Aaron said. “Here comes Paris and Benvolio with some rope!”
Off stage, the Bills glanced at each other, confused.
“Hark!” Aaron said again. “The rope!”
The Bills glanced at each other again, and then ran off to find some rope. They returned moments later and helped Aaron tie Perry up.
The audience, who had been enthralled during the fighting, now seemed to be loosing interest and starting to wonder why the play seemed to have taken this odd turn. Nicole, determined to get things moving again, hoped Gelinas wouldn’t mind if she pinched one of his lines.
“Romeo, away, be gone!” she said. “The citizens are up, and Tybalt slain. Stand not amazed: the prince will doom thee death, If thou art taken: hence, be gone, away!”
Aaron took this queue to heft Perry up and drag him off of the stage. “O, I am fortune’s fool!” he commented as he went. The Bills tended to Mike, treating him with more care then Aaron showed Perry as their removed him from the stage.
Matt and Sarah looked up at the proceedings and then looked at each other. They nodded. Without even needing to vocalize their thoughts to one another, they knew that now was the time.
“Kenny! Do it!” Matt quietly called out.
From the control booth, Kenny lowered the curtain. Then a series of lasers lowered itself from the ceiling behind the audience and beams shot fourth, hitting the curtain and moving rapidly to form a single word: Intermission.
Intermission...
Matt and Sarah called the cast and crew together back stage. Well, most of the cast and crew. Perry had been put into a utility closet.
“Okay, here’s the plan,” Matt said. “We think we can salvage the play.”
“How?” Aaron asked, miffed. “Thanks to Perry, we jumped straight from Act 2 Scene 2 to Act 3 Scene 1. Bit of a jump.”
“Yes, well, Matt and I did some hasty re-writes. I hope Shakespeare won’t mind much...”
Matt coughed. “Yes... Well, most of your lines are the same... Some of their placements have been re-arranged.” He and Sarah handed out papers to everyone. “These outline the changes.”
The cast flipped through the revised script.
“This is quite mad, you know that?” Mike said moments later.
“Mad enough that it may just work,” Nicole added.
“It’s certainly better then giving up,” Kirstin said. “Let’s do it.”
“Let the show go on!” Aaron decreed.
It was ten minutes before the intermission was to end when Nicole approached Kirstin. “Hey, sis, can I see you in the dressing room for a moment?”
Kirstin followed her sister to the “dressing room,” which was one of the smaller meeting rooms on the lower level of the Church’s building. “Yes, what is it?” she asked. She then noticed they were not alone.
“Jill? What are you doing here?” Kirstin asked. She could not help but notice that her fellow Girl Scout seemed to be getting into a costume... the same costume, in fact, that Kirstin herself was wearing.
“Hi, Kirstin!” Jill Valentine simply responded.
“Jill owed me a favor,” Nicole said, “and something just came up last minute that I have to tend to. I hope you don’t mind. But hey, business is business.”
Kirstin was confused. “That’s as may be, but why is she getting into the costume of the Nurse?”
“We don’t have much time,” Nicole said, getting out of costume and handing important bits of it to her sibling. “Here, put these on.”
“Sis?” Kirstin prodded, wanting an answer.
“I’m sorry, Kirstin,” Jill said. “I couldn’t learn Juliet on such short notice, and I already knew the Nurse from having read the play in school.”
“And I know you know Juliet,” Nicole said to her sister. “How many times have you read this play? It really is the only solution. You don’t mind, do you?”
“Well, I...”
“Thanks!” Nicole said before her sister could say more. She headed out of the door, saying, “I knew I could count on you!”
Kirstin sat motionless, staring at the door, for a personal eternity. After a long while (fortunately Juliet was not required for the next few scenes) she let out a sigh and began preparing for her new roll.
Matt and Sarah called the cast and crew together back stage. Well, most of the cast and crew. Perry had been put into a utility closet.
“Okay, here’s the plan,” Matt said. “We think we can salvage the play.”
“How?” Aaron asked, miffed. “Thanks to Perry, we jumped straight from Act 2 Scene 2 to Act 3 Scene 1. Bit of a jump.”
“Yes, well, Matt and I did some hasty re-writes. I hope Shakespeare won’t mind much...”
Matt coughed. “Yes... Well, most of your lines are the same... Some of their placements have been re-arranged.” He and Sarah handed out papers to everyone. “These outline the changes.”
The cast flipped through the revised script.
“This is quite mad, you know that?” Mike said moments later.
“Mad enough that it may just work,” Nicole added.
“It’s certainly better then giving up,” Kirstin said. “Let’s do it.”
“Let the show go on!” Aaron decreed.
It was ten minutes before the intermission was to end when Nicole approached Kirstin. “Hey, sis, can I see you in the dressing room for a moment?”
Kirstin followed her sister to the “dressing room,” which was one of the smaller meeting rooms on the lower level of the Church’s building. “Yes, what is it?” she asked. She then noticed they were not alone.
“Jill? What are you doing here?” Kirstin asked. She could not help but notice that her fellow Girl Scout seemed to be getting into a costume... the same costume, in fact, that Kirstin herself was wearing.
“Hi, Kirstin!” Jill Valentine simply responded.
“Jill owed me a favor,” Nicole said, “and something just came up last minute that I have to tend to. I hope you don’t mind. But hey, business is business.”
Kirstin was confused. “That’s as may be, but why is she getting into the costume of the Nurse?”
“We don’t have much time,” Nicole said, getting out of costume and handing important bits of it to her sibling. “Here, put these on.”
“Sis?” Kirstin prodded, wanting an answer.
“I’m sorry, Kirstin,” Jill said. “I couldn’t learn Juliet on such short notice, and I already knew the Nurse from having read the play in school.”
“And I know you know Juliet,” Nicole said to her sister. “How many times have you read this play? It really is the only solution. You don’t mind, do you?”
“Well, I...”
“Thanks!” Nicole said before her sister could say more. She headed out of the door, saying, “I knew I could count on you!”
Kirstin sat motionless, staring at the door, for a personal eternity. After a long while (fortunately Juliet was not required for the next few scenes) she let out a sigh and began preparing for her new roll.
The Play Resumes...
The cast assembled backstage just before the end of the intermission. “Okay,” Matt said to them all, “this is where we either succeed or die. And today is not a good day to die.”
“Most inspirational,” Sarah said dryly.
“So, we’re picking up with what was originally Act 3, Scene 3,” Matt continued.
Aaron clapped his hands, getting ready to return to the roll of Romeo. It was then that he noticed something.
“Jill?” he said. “Where’s Kirstin?”
Jill smoothed out the skirt of her Nurse’s costume and grinned. “Something urgent had come up and she had to go home,” she explained. “She said she’d call you later.”
She went home without even saying good-bye, Aaron thought. He sighed.
“Places, everyone!” Sarah called out. Aaron shook his head, determined to clear it. The play must go on.
Matt Swett went out onto the stage, which had been dressed as Friar Laurence’s cell. Aaron waited just off stage as the curtain rose to the applause of the audience.
“Romeo, come fourth,” Matt said after the applause had died down, “come forth, thou fearful man: Affliction is enamour'd of thy parts, And thou art wedded to calamity.”
Aaron made his entrance, and the play continued.
Off stage, Matt and Sarah exchanged looks once more, and once more they shared an unspoken thought. This was going to work!
The play had progressed smoothly, and the time had come for the final scene of Act 3... The last scene that the two leads had together before the tragedy would begin in earnest.
Kirstin emerged from the dressing room at last, butterflies making quite a ruckus within her abdomen. She made her way towards the stage and spotted Aaron.
“Hey, Nicole,” he said to her. “Time for our big scene.” He grinned lopsidedly. “Don’t worry,” he assured her. “On the cheek, like I promised.”
“Um, Aaron...?” Kirstin said. “There’s something I need to... something you have to...”
“Okay, you two, its show time!” Matt said from behind them, ushering them towards the stage.
There was no more opportunity for Kirstin to say anything. Anything, that is, other then, “Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day: It was the nightingale, and not the lark, That pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear; Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate-tree: Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.”
“It was the lark, the herald of the morn, No nightingale,” Aaron responded. “Look, love, what envious streaks Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east: Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops. I must be gone and live, or stay and die.”
“Yon light is not day-light, I know it, I: It is some meteor that the sun exhales, To be to thee this night a torch-bearer, And light thee on thy way to Mantua: Therefore stay yet; thou need'st not to be gone.“
“Let me be ta'en, let me be put to death; I am content, so thou wilt have it so. I'll say yon grey is not the morning's eye, 'Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow; Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat The vaulty heaven so high above our heads: I have more care to stay than will to go: Come, death, and welcome! Juliet wills it so. How is't, my soul? let's talk; it is not day.”
Kirstin turned to Aaron. “It is, it is: hie hence, be gone, away! It is the lark that sings so out of tune, Straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps. Some say the lark makes sweet division; This doth not so, for she divideth us: Some say the lark and loathed toad change eyes, O, now I would they had changed voices too! Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray, Hunting thee hence with hunt's-up to the day, O, now be gone; more light and light it grows.”
“More light and light; more dark and dark our woes!”
Jill walked in, and said to Kirstin, “Madam!”
“Nurse?” Kirstin responded.
“Your lady mother is coming to your chamber: The day is broke; be wary, look about.” And with that, Jill made her exit.
Kirstin gazed towards the window, and thus towards the audience. “Then, window, let day in, and let life out.” She turned back to Aaron once more.
“Farewell,” Aaron said, “farewell! one kiss, and I'll descend.”
He leaned towards Kirstin, or rather Nicole as far as he knew, and stopped suddenly.
The audience looked on, not daring to breathe.
Aaron regarded Juliet... Her gaze was cast downward, her hands at her sides... she seemed positively nervous.
And then Aaron knew. Without a doubt, he knew.
Aaron opened his mouth to speak, but it was at that point that Kirstin looked up. She placed a finger to her lips. “Shhhh,” she whispered. “The play must go on.”
She closed her eyes and leaned forward.
Likewise, Aaron leaned towards her, his eyes closed.
Their lips met. As brief as it may have been in actual time, by their perspectives they lingered for an infinitely long sweet moment. Then, just as softly as they had touched, their lips came apart.
Aaron, smiling, made his way down from the window.
“Art thou gone so? love, lord, ay, husband, friend!” Kirstin called after him. “I must hear from thee every day in the hour, For in a minute there are many days: O, by this count I shall be much in years Ere I again behold my Romeo!”
“Farewell!” Aaron shouted in response. “I will omit no opportunity That may convey my greetings, love, to thee.”
“O think'st thou we shall ever meet again?”
“I doubt it not; and all these woes shall serve For sweet discourses in our time to come.”
“O God, I have an ill-divining soul! Methinks I see thee, now thou art below, As one dead in the bottom of a tomb: Either my eyesight fails, or thou look'st pale.”
“And trust me, love, in my eye so do you: Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu, adieu!”
And with that, Aaron departed from the stage.
In the back of the audience, inconspicuously watching the proceedings on the stage, Nicole smiled to herself. “That’s another on the house, sis.”
Of course, everything went down hill from there. Fortunately, it was meant to. Basically a bunch of people died and no one lived happily ever after.
Tragedy at it’s finest.
Nothing went down hill production wise. The play finished perfectly and was met by unanimous acclaim from those who had come to watch it.
Matt and Sarah were hopping with rapture. “We did it! We did it!” they exclaimed together as they fell into a joyful embrace. “We did it! We did it!”
It then occurred to them both what it was that they were currently doing. Sarah shoved Matt away and stormed off in a huff, and Matt found new interest in the floorboards.
The cast assembled backstage just before the end of the intermission. “Okay,” Matt said to them all, “this is where we either succeed or die. And today is not a good day to die.”
“Most inspirational,” Sarah said dryly.
“So, we’re picking up with what was originally Act 3, Scene 3,” Matt continued.
Aaron clapped his hands, getting ready to return to the roll of Romeo. It was then that he noticed something.
“Jill?” he said. “Where’s Kirstin?”
Jill smoothed out the skirt of her Nurse’s costume and grinned. “Something urgent had come up and she had to go home,” she explained. “She said she’d call you later.”
She went home without even saying good-bye, Aaron thought. He sighed.
“Places, everyone!” Sarah called out. Aaron shook his head, determined to clear it. The play must go on.
Matt Swett went out onto the stage, which had been dressed as Friar Laurence’s cell. Aaron waited just off stage as the curtain rose to the applause of the audience.
“Romeo, come fourth,” Matt said after the applause had died down, “come forth, thou fearful man: Affliction is enamour'd of thy parts, And thou art wedded to calamity.”
Aaron made his entrance, and the play continued.
Off stage, Matt and Sarah exchanged looks once more, and once more they shared an unspoken thought. This was going to work!
The play had progressed smoothly, and the time had come for the final scene of Act 3... The last scene that the two leads had together before the tragedy would begin in earnest.
Kirstin emerged from the dressing room at last, butterflies making quite a ruckus within her abdomen. She made her way towards the stage and spotted Aaron.
“Hey, Nicole,” he said to her. “Time for our big scene.” He grinned lopsidedly. “Don’t worry,” he assured her. “On the cheek, like I promised.”
“Um, Aaron...?” Kirstin said. “There’s something I need to... something you have to...”
“Okay, you two, its show time!” Matt said from behind them, ushering them towards the stage.
There was no more opportunity for Kirstin to say anything. Anything, that is, other then, “Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day: It was the nightingale, and not the lark, That pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear; Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate-tree: Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.”
“It was the lark, the herald of the morn, No nightingale,” Aaron responded. “Look, love, what envious streaks Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east: Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops. I must be gone and live, or stay and die.”
“Yon light is not day-light, I know it, I: It is some meteor that the sun exhales, To be to thee this night a torch-bearer, And light thee on thy way to Mantua: Therefore stay yet; thou need'st not to be gone.“
“Let me be ta'en, let me be put to death; I am content, so thou wilt have it so. I'll say yon grey is not the morning's eye, 'Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow; Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat The vaulty heaven so high above our heads: I have more care to stay than will to go: Come, death, and welcome! Juliet wills it so. How is't, my soul? let's talk; it is not day.”
Kirstin turned to Aaron. “It is, it is: hie hence, be gone, away! It is the lark that sings so out of tune, Straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps. Some say the lark makes sweet division; This doth not so, for she divideth us: Some say the lark and loathed toad change eyes, O, now I would they had changed voices too! Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray, Hunting thee hence with hunt's-up to the day, O, now be gone; more light and light it grows.”
“More light and light; more dark and dark our woes!”
Jill walked in, and said to Kirstin, “Madam!”
“Nurse?” Kirstin responded.
“Your lady mother is coming to your chamber: The day is broke; be wary, look about.” And with that, Jill made her exit.
Kirstin gazed towards the window, and thus towards the audience. “Then, window, let day in, and let life out.” She turned back to Aaron once more.
“Farewell,” Aaron said, “farewell! one kiss, and I'll descend.”
He leaned towards Kirstin, or rather Nicole as far as he knew, and stopped suddenly.
The audience looked on, not daring to breathe.
Aaron regarded Juliet... Her gaze was cast downward, her hands at her sides... she seemed positively nervous.
And then Aaron knew. Without a doubt, he knew.
Aaron opened his mouth to speak, but it was at that point that Kirstin looked up. She placed a finger to her lips. “Shhhh,” she whispered. “The play must go on.”
She closed her eyes and leaned forward.
Likewise, Aaron leaned towards her, his eyes closed.
Their lips met. As brief as it may have been in actual time, by their perspectives they lingered for an infinitely long sweet moment. Then, just as softly as they had touched, their lips came apart.
Aaron, smiling, made his way down from the window.
“Art thou gone so? love, lord, ay, husband, friend!” Kirstin called after him. “I must hear from thee every day in the hour, For in a minute there are many days: O, by this count I shall be much in years Ere I again behold my Romeo!”
“Farewell!” Aaron shouted in response. “I will omit no opportunity That may convey my greetings, love, to thee.”
“O think'st thou we shall ever meet again?”
“I doubt it not; and all these woes shall serve For sweet discourses in our time to come.”
“O God, I have an ill-divining soul! Methinks I see thee, now thou art below, As one dead in the bottom of a tomb: Either my eyesight fails, or thou look'st pale.”
“And trust me, love, in my eye so do you: Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu, adieu!”
And with that, Aaron departed from the stage.
In the back of the audience, inconspicuously watching the proceedings on the stage, Nicole smiled to herself. “That’s another on the house, sis.”
Of course, everything went down hill from there. Fortunately, it was meant to. Basically a bunch of people died and no one lived happily ever after.
Tragedy at it’s finest.
Nothing went down hill production wise. The play finished perfectly and was met by unanimous acclaim from those who had come to watch it.
Matt and Sarah were hopping with rapture. “We did it! We did it!” they exclaimed together as they fell into a joyful embrace. “We did it! We did it!”
It then occurred to them both what it was that they were currently doing. Sarah shoved Matt away and stormed off in a huff, and Matt found new interest in the floorboards.
The Morning After...
The next morning, Kirstin began to clear the table and clean the dishes before she and her sister had to leave for school.
“You know,” Nicole said to her, “that was some scene between you and your boyfriend last night.”
“Boyfriend?” Kirstin blinked. “What? Good lord, no, you know we’re just friends.” Kirstin blinked again. “You saw?” she asked. “What happened to this business of yours? Did you set me up?”
Nicole laughed. “Come on now, sis... I saw the way you two kissed. There’s no denying it.”
“Are you finished with your plate?” Kirstin asked.
Nicole sighed. Well, she thought, you may be able to deny it to Aaron, he may be able to deny it to you, and you may both even be able to deny it to
yourselves... but it’s sure as hell clear as day to anyone else!
A lone figure sat bound and gagged within a storage closet at Perfume’s Pizza. As Will Shmuler continued to sit there, the effects of sensory deprivation began to spawn within his mind new and crazier things for him to do in the future.
A lone figure sat bound and gagged within one of the Church in the Acre’s utility closets, shaking in rage. That it! Now Perfume really mad! Now you all really, really die!!!
The next morning, Kirstin began to clear the table and clean the dishes before she and her sister had to leave for school.
“You know,” Nicole said to her, “that was some scene between you and your boyfriend last night.”
“Boyfriend?” Kirstin blinked. “What? Good lord, no, you know we’re just friends.” Kirstin blinked again. “You saw?” she asked. “What happened to this business of yours? Did you set me up?”
Nicole laughed. “Come on now, sis... I saw the way you two kissed. There’s no denying it.”
“Are you finished with your plate?” Kirstin asked.
Nicole sighed. Well, she thought, you may be able to deny it to Aaron, he may be able to deny it to you, and you may both even be able to deny it to
yourselves... but it’s sure as hell clear as day to anyone else!
A lone figure sat bound and gagged within a storage closet at Perfume’s Pizza. As Will Shmuler continued to sit there, the effects of sensory deprivation began to spawn within his mind new and crazier things for him to do in the future.
A lone figure sat bound and gagged within one of the Church in the Acre’s utility closets, shaking in rage. That it! Now Perfume really mad! Now you all really, really die!!!
Notes from Nickie
Well, I apologize for taking so blasted long to finish this part. I had a terrible case of writer’s block. And dear Matt was good enough to finish it up for me. Bravo! Anyway, I do hope you liked it. Happy reading & now it’s time to bug Mike for the next part. ::grins evilly::
Notes from Matt and Disclaimer
Well, here’s part 18. I hope you all enjoyed it.
Well, as I hope is obvious, some text in this story comes from the play Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare. Also, some story elements may be inspired by Rumiko Takahashi’s Ranma ½. Lastly, this story was written without the consent of, and is not endorsed in any way by, the Boy Scouts of America.
Have a nice day.
Well, as I hope is obvious, some text in this story comes from the play Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare. Also, some story elements may be inspired by Rumiko Takahashi’s Ranma ½. Lastly, this story was written without the consent of, and is not endorsed in any way by, the Boy Scouts of America.
Have a nice day.