Chapter one.

Caius Cassius looked around; where was he?

The sun shone on his face, he blinked, squinting as he opened his eyes for a second time. As the brightness of the dazzling light seemed to fade a little, he opened his eyes again, properly. He couldn't seem to place where he was (as said in the first line. Saying this again in case you haven't grasped it yet- Cassius is somewhat lost.) The cloud he was standing on seemed a little too puffy. He looked down, expecting to see solid ground, but was surprised to see what seemed like an endless blue, stretching as far as his eyes could go. He then noticed his clothes; they were white, but then, they always were, so no big deal. He scratched his head confusedly.

'Oh ye Gods,' he whispered, mostly to himself. Shakespeare's characters always had this irritating habit of talking to themselves.

Hadn't he just committed suicide? But then how-?

'Good morning, Mr. Cassius,' said a voice, which was not talking to itself but to Cassius, 'I see, or rather you see, that your time has come. So, I think its hell for you.'

'Peace! Art thou Saint Peter? Answer me directly! '

'Don't be stupid. Christianity hasn't been founded yet. That's good for you, heaven it is then. It's so difficult keeping track of the time. I'm so confused, I am.' The 'I'm so confused, I am,' part of the sentence had been directed from the saint to himself. Total Shakespeare.

'Good,' said Cassius and on entering the gates yelled back, 'I art Shakespeare's Cassius, with a heart deeper than Pluto's mine. Real Cassius hath lived looooooong back. Christianity has been foundst but I'm here now. Good bye, person.' And he ran like hell.

Many years later.

Brutus rubbed his eyes. Another morning in heaven.

Portia groaned. Another cup of tea to make for Mark, who still insisted on calling himself Marcus Brutus.

Portia looked at him grumpily, 'Good morning, Mark.'

'Good morrow gentle Portia,' -Portia rolled her eyes-, 'I awake to your gentle face again.'

'I am NOT gentle,' said Portia, 'Move with time. It's 2006.'

'But sweet Por-'

'I am not sweet. I am a man in a woman's body. Man's mind, woman's might in your language, not that you have heard about anything like that, you narrow-minded man.'

'Um,' said Brutus, 'Thou art strong? Like a man?'

'YOU STUPID SEXIST!'

'Sexist?' this word was new to Brutus.

'You're a sexist, yea, that you are! I mean you're a sexist, yeah, that's what you are! Mark, get a life. Women are strong.'

'But thou art man's mind, woman's might,' argued Brutus.

'Even so,' said Portia, 'maybe I should get a hormone transplant.'

Brutus nodded, completely unaware of the meaning of those two words, 'what you will, gentle Portia.'

'That's right,' said Portia and then realized the extent of what Brutus had said, even though he hadn't, 'Ohhhh my gaaaaaaaawd, you mean you agree? Oh, Brutus, I so love you!'

'Gentle Po-,' Brutus called out, but she had gone yelling, 'Sexist! I am NOT gentle! But, bye!'

He went outside, for a walk. He was in for a surprise.

Caesar's home

'Calphurnia,' said Caesar.

'Calphurnia, oh seriously Julius, you can just call me Cal. I mean Cal-Phur-Nia is soooooooo long.'

'Sorry,' apologised Caesar, 'I'm bored.' This was Caesar, who was ruler of the world. Once upon a time.

'Go for a walk.'

'Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine. But only because you say so.'

Cassius

Cassius smiled. Heaven rocked. Lots of fruits, lots of puffy white clouds and lots of soliloquy. What more could a man ask for? He was cute and single; he had broken up with his wife ages ago. He was also the most popular guy in heaven. Everyone knew him or had at least heard of him, almost everyone that is. Where was Brutus? He had met Caesar, but that was loooooong back. Caesar had just told him to shut the hell up and get lost and away from his sight, and that had been about it.

Cassius walked, he walked at this time everyday; he had to keep himself fit (and sexy).

Tatatatatatata,' he sang, a pair of headphones was attached to his ears, he was wearing a torn pair of jeans, a loose T-shirt, and a pair of sunglasses even though it was just six in the morning. He looked terribly cool.

Brutus walked a few metres in front of him, wondering what his wife was up to. He wasn't upset since being upset in heaven simply isn't allowed. It is against the rules.

He kept his head down and continued walking. Portia had gone nuts, she had. Man's mind, woman's might. Whatever. Maybe she really was a man. Maybe she had some kind of mental problem. Maybe she just wanted him to do something, and it was below her dignity to tell him what. He'd ask her out to dinner; perhaps that would solve it. These weren't his thoughts though. Translate this into that old typa English, and those were his thoughts.

'Mark?'

'Why, fellow, thee knows me?'

'Uh, I suppose I do, I just said "Mark", and that's your name. Still always stating the obvious, are we?'

'I know not.'

Cassius raised an eyebrow. He tilted his head sideways to look at Brutus more properly. Then, as if remembering something, he smiled.

'What?' Brutus asked.

'I was remembering your lines. "Why, if we do meet again, we shall smile". Act 5 scene I. line 117. Why aren't you smiling?'

"Brother!' Brutus cried out, 'when-'

Cassius raised a hand to stop him, 'Two things Mark, one, its brother-in-law, not brother. We don't share the same parents, now do we? Live in the present. And two, I've broken up with your sister, so I'm not even your brother-in-law. And that was ages ago. Is this the first time you're coming out in years?'

Brutus didn't say anything, and his silence answered Cassius' question.

'Really Mark, it's good this is heaven, or you would've gained lots of weight. Lots and lots of weight. Like millions, maybe. And kilos, not pounds.'

Brutus stared at Cassius, after wondering for a moment where he had heard those words before and what they meant. He figured out the answer only to the former and said, 'You talk like Portia.'

Cassius knew that name, but wasn't quite aware of its relation to Brutus, 'I know Portia,' he said, 'Hadn't she, like, died? Swallowed what?'

'Fire-', began Brutus.

'You can't swallow fire,' said Cassius wisely, 'coals maybe, not fire. It's too, erm, unswallowable.'

'Thou art dead too,' Brutus pointed out. This was the closest he had ever gotten to normal English. He felt terribly proud of himself for a moment, and smiled.

'So have you recognized me yet? What's my name? "Brother" does not count. So who am I? ', Cassius asked hopefully, noticing Brutus' smile.

'Hmmmmmmm…..'

'Helllllllllllllllllllllllllo, Brrrroooooooooooooooooooooooooooooootus! It's me!' Cassius waved his arms around desperately.

'Uh, brother. I hath already said, a minute ago.'

'I mean my NAME! All this brother crap won't do, I already told you. And I WAS your brother-IN-LAW. Law law law!'

Brutus racked his brain and searched his head for his brother's, who insisted on not being called his brother's name.

'Ca-ca-aaaaa,' hinted Cassius, 'S-s-s-s-s-s-sssssssss,'

'Casca?'

'NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!'

'Caesar.'

'Tyranny! Autocracy! We will walk the streets and yell, "Freedom! Liberty-'

'And the water of Tiber shall flood her banks.'

Cassius narrowed his eyes, 'You copied that dialogue; it was Marullus'.'

'Sorry,' said Brutus and then he realized the truth. How could he not have noticed it before?

'Nay, Flavius.'

'Whatever, some tribune. Now guess my name. Ca-aaaaa-sssssssssssssss.'

'Metullus Cimber,' said Brutus timidly.

'Ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss.'

'Serpent?'

'No, think again. Freedom, liberty, republicanism…these words seem familiar?'

'Uh, Calphurnia?'

'She was tyranny's wife, for Pete's sake, Bru.'

'Octavius?'

'Great-nephew.'

'Marcus Antonius.'

'Oh, pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease!'

'Lucius?'

'Your boy-servant? You know that's child labour?'

'Thou art Lucius then?'

'NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, Brutus, Caaaaaaaaaaaassssssssssssssssssssssssssssss.'

'Casca?'

'You've already guessed Casca.'

'I apologise to thee.'

'Thee rhymes with tea, or sea. Cool, huh?'

'Cicero?'

'He was OLD.'

'Harry Potter?'

'Maybeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee,' veiled Cassius.

'I'm right! Peace, ho!'

'No, but uh…ho? Ho? Excuse me? What are you, Santa?'

'Perhaps,' said Brutus, 'thou art Santa. Answer me directly.'

'You live in heaven and you don't know who Santa is. Santa, hello? What did you get for Christmas last year?'

'Christmas! Thou callst thyself Christmas!'

'Drop that funny accent. And improve your grammar. We could go to grammar school together, like Shakespeare did.'

'Shakespeare?'

'For how many years have you been living here? Several thousand? And you don't know who the big boss here is?'

'Ye gods.'

'No, that's for real people. Everyone goes to their creator in the end. Our creator, Will, and all his creations live here. To think that you are the hero of one of his famous tragedies.'

'Wasn't Julius, who doth bleed for justice's sake, the hero?'

'Hellllllllllo? But who was the noblest Roman of them all? Brutus!'

'Uh,' Brutus was running out of good dialogues.

'Antony said that, if you care.'

'I didn't hear that. I was dead,' said Brutus, in his most normal English, he hadn't said it purposefully though; it had been a slip of tongue.

'Your English is improving,' Cassius noticed, 'and I just met you two minutes ago.'

'I thank thee.'

'Not again,' Cassius moaned, 'but forget that, guess my name now.'

'He comes!' gasped Brutus (anything to avoid bro's stupid question), as a man walked past them. He was somewhat bigger than the rest of them, bald but with a nice long beard. He had a bright aura surrounding him, and he looked terribly pleased with himself.

'Thank you all,' he smiled, as everyone present on the street had started clapping, 'it's me, Will. Shakespeare. The man.'

'Yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah,' everyone shouted.

'Brutus,' said Will, turning to look at him, 'ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh,'- he paused to create the impression that he was very, very, very wise. And why not? He was the great god guy in this heaven, -'I knew you would come; I had written it down. I am a famous playwright after all. How are you? I understand that you cannot adapt to these, erm'-he waved his arms carelessly around, 'conditions. And clouds. And stuff. I understand because I wrote it down.'

'Excuse me, sir, Mister Shakespeare,' Cassius butted in, 'don't mean to be rude but that would mean that you rule us all. We are at your mercy. You are, um, dictator.' The very idea seemed to trouble Cassius to such a great extent that his hair stood on their ends, like he had spikes. But then, they always were and he could have gotten that artificially done at his favourite beauty parlour-"Wigs, soliloquy, hair cuts and styles, make-up and stuff for men pretending to be women, (Will's women were played by men, as we all know) who pretend to be men (Like in "Twelfth night/what you will", or "the Merchant of Venice" or "As you like it" or any of his other plays.) and free plastic-surgeries if you're ugly enough"

'Think me as a serpent's egg/which, hatch'd would, as my kind grow mischievous/and kill me in the shell,' said Shakespeare in a bored way.

No one spoke and everyone stared at the man. There was silence for a long long time. Everyone looked nervously at each other as Cassius' hand itched for the dagger in his jeans' pocket, only to realize that his dagger had been replaced with a big-fat gun many years back. Should he take it out? Should he? Shouldn't he? The conflict in his mind irritated him; wasn't it usually Brutus who had all these stupid problems? If he did shoot Will, the bullet would only go through him, which would look horribly uncool and extremely lame. But he also wanted to show his love for republicanism (and his nice gun, which was decorated with pink flowers which all looked really pretty) off.

Which was why he was relieved when Will said, "I am only joking of course.'

Cassius grinned, took his gun out (which was actually a bubble-gun), flashed it around, heard a lot of "oooooooooooh"s and "aaaaaaaaah"s and kept it back rather cheerfully.

'Joke?' Great-immortal Caesar had appeared out of nowhere.

'Peace! Ho! Caesar speaks!'

'Shut up, Casca.' yelled everyone who was on that street, 'Everyone knows you were one of the conspirators.'

'Sorry.'

'Joke,' explained Will, 'I can be funny when I want.'

'Then why kill me?' asked Caesar.

'Thou art revenged. Isn't that good enough for you? Not everyone gets that.'

Caesar seemed to be thinking, 'Erm.'

'Peace! Ho! Caesar speaks!'

'Shut up, Casca!'

'Sorry,' Casca apologised again

'I win,' said Shakespeare, 'thou art revenged. I mean, you ought to be satisfied with that. I am sure Brutus would love to be revenged-.'

'My love for Caesar-,' began Brutus, but Shakespeare cut him of with a wave of his hand and said, 'let me continue. Aaaaaah, where was I? Brutus would love to be revenged, but I didn't give it to him-.'

'Why on earth would Mark want revenge?' asked Cassius, but Shakespeare wasn't listening to him, probably because he didn't know how to reply to his stupid questions. They bugged him and went against everything he had written down. Cassius had free will. Lots and lots and lots of it. Instead Shakespeare continued, 'did I give it to him?'

'He didn't need it,' Cassius boldly pointed out, 'We killed Julius. Mark killed himself. He'd have to "revenge'd himself", wouldn't he?'

'He thinks too much,' said Caesar, 'such men are dangerous. Act I scene 2. Line, um, forgotten. Can't remember everything and repeat it forever. I'm not a parrot. But as I was saying, such men are dangerous.'

'Yes,' agreed Shakespeare.'

'Oh, so because I am not fat and am an insomniac,' Cassius cried, his voice filled to the brim with emotion, 'you will discriminate against me, refuse to answer my queries, and call me dangerous? You are simply MEAN. And I have good hair now, see, spikes?'

'I had said sleek-headed men in my speech,' said Julius.

'You are too much, Mr. Parrot, and the rest of you are no less! I am leaving! Goodbye all!'

With these words, Cassius left the scene.

Back to Portia

'So, um how do I get a hormone transplant?' Portia asked nervously. She had always wanted this, and had always been too afraid to ask Mark, not quite sure of what his answer would be, afraid that he would leave her, scared of being alone. She had friends, of course, but they weren't the same as Mark. She did love him, but for how long could she keep her sexuality a secret? I am sure you can all understand how excited she is about this, dear readers.

'Many girls come to us with that question,' said the old man she was talking to, 'Many many many. And you know why?'

'How would I know?'

'Ever noticed you girls dress up as men?'

'Uh?'

'It's because you ARE men,' saying this, the old man Portia was talking, stretched his arm and pulled Portia's wig out.'

She (he) only stared at him, eyes wide open.

'Shakespeare's women are played by men. You, young man, are a man.'

'How nice,' said Portia, 'I never knew.'

'It's a man's world out there.'

'I've noticed.'

'So, wanna revolt?'

'For what?'

'Women rights of course.'

'We need women to fight for women rights.'

'Young man, Portia. I've noticed you. You believe that women are as strong as men, but are forced to be as they are, weak underlings. You and I can stand very strong together. Men are incomplete without women. We must stand up for what we believe in. We need females. We need people to cook our dinners-that part was a joke, don't stare me so. -That last line was old English, cool huh? –but forget that, we will get women, and we will fight for their rights.'

'Uh. Question,' Portia raised his hand dully, 'how?'

'We will need people to join our movement. Hahahahahahahahahahaha!'

'Shakespeare's characters were played by young boys by the way, not men.'

'Ever heard of the process of aging?'

'Ohhhh-kay. My husband's crazy, he won't join. But I think I know someone who will. May I know your name?'

The man stared at her, stretched his hand for Portia to shake and said, 'that hardly matters.'

Now to Brutus

'Brutus,' said Shakespeare, playing with his fingers like Mr. Burns from "The Simpsons", 'Brutus , Brutus, Brutus.'

'That's me,' said Brutus, thinking the very same time that it was a tremendously foolish thing to say. Where, just WHERE had all his dialogues gone? Would they ever return? And how?