As Told By Hamlet: Hamlet and Raskolnikov Walk Into a Bar

(This was a project I did for AP English, but it's technically Fanfiction and I think it's fun)

The barmaid flung two flagons across the table and I eyed the stranger wearily. Neither of us had drawn off our dripping cloaks or muttered one word. I made sure the young man saw the glint of the dim lights on my sword, which I kept on me at all times.

"We could have done without all the rain," I grumbled at last, sipping some water from my flagon and eyeing the young man across from me. He was slouching in a shabby brown coat and had his head tipped so that his hat covered his eyes. He was holding his flagon in a thin, white hand. The wrist that protruded from his coat was as milky as his face and when he looked up I noticed he was quite gaunt. His eyes were round and curious, but dark.
"Do you come here often?" The young student asked quietly.
"No, considering the name of the pub is 'The Mad Boar'," I admitted, glancing around the dim-lit, wooden beam walls. "I suppose I should be grateful that there are so many rabble-rousers here to cover our conversation, but they're so…animalistic." As I spoke I was looking at a particularly fat man with beer stains on his shirt. He belched and laughed loudly, slapping his companion on the back. "Anyway," I continued, because my own companion remained silent, "it's certainly a good place to discuss your business, if you know what I mean. I wouldn't have contacted you otherwise."
The young man took a long drink from his flagon. Obviously he was not afraid the barmaid might poison him. I myself had taken my sips of water suspiciously. Only now did I let my black hood down from my head, revealing to the student the crown that I wore over my gold hair.
"I assume you are doing this job for the benefit of your country?" The young man asked, meeting my eyes at last. "It wouldn't feel right unless it was for the good of humanity."

I noticed he had some stubble around his cheeks and chin—he should've shaved that. Instantaneously I felt my chin—stubble free.
"Oh, you mean removing an evil man?" I asked innocently. "No, I think that would hinder our country. What we need is a secret police to keep everyone in check."
The student smiled the barest of smiles. He looked even sicklier than before. "I hope that was sarcasm, Princeling."
"For whose sake? Denmark's or mine?"
He chuckled, tracing a finger around the rim of his cup. "Both, I guess. What exactly is it you want me to do?"
"Well I was going to write you a note in code," I admitted, "naturally so no one would know of our plans. Unfortunately I just didn't have time last night to learn the Russian alphabet, you understand? Well…" I leaned in; elbows on the small table, and the young man bent his head toward me. "I need you to kill the king of Denmark."
The student nearly choked on his own tongue. "You want me to…what?"

I nodded gravely. "It's a matter of utmost importance. I have been summoned to rid Denmark of this evil beast, who has had my father slain and has seduced my mother and who now rules in our family's good name. The name, which by the way, is now stained."

"The king? I thought you had meant someone other than that…does your mother know of his evilness?"
I scowled, frowning into my cup of water. "No. She wouldn't believe me if I told her. Incestuous woman. Women are such coy beings."
The student looked to me in surprise. "Not always, Princeling. I know a good Christian woman who would sacrifice herself, her sanity, and everything in between for the sake of her family."
"Yes, and what member of the family is she planning on marrying?"
The young man tilted his head and his brow furrowed. "I believe we were discussing the plot to kill the king."
"What plot? You are killing the king. Anyway, I was thinking it could be done in his sleep, while he is praying, afar while he is riding, or while he is reading."
"How while riding?" The young man asked as he gestured to a dark-haired barmaid.
"You would hide behind a tree and shoot him down with your arrows of Justice," I said.
"I have no arrows, sir, only this axe," the young man said, and he pulled out of his coat a small axe with a wooden handle.
"It would only make sense if we first got him engaged in some sinful act before we killed him, just to be sure," I said. "That almost tripped me up last time I tried to ki—OW!" The student had reached out and kicked me in the shin under the table.
"Would you like another water?" The student asked loudly.

I saw that the barmaid was standing by and quickly dragged the axe off the table. "I need something stronger," I sighed. "Get me some lemon tea, please…it helps me with my problems."

"Problems?" The barmaid sneered. "Ha. You haven't got a thing on me."

"Aren't you supposed to be getting my drink?" I snapped. "Get going. This is no business for women." I turned away from her.

"I can help you out," the barmaid said, but backed away a few paces.

"While he is a-sinning?" The student murmured. "That would damn him to hell straight away…"

"My friend, you truly are a professional. Isn't that how you murdered the infamous Alyona? That pawnbroker?" I sipped the last of my water and looked up at the young man, who had his mouth twisted in a forced smile.

"No," he said. "I distracted her and as she had her back turned I struck her down."

"Then…a distraction. And a sinful one…hmmm." I thought for a moment. "You could catch him with my mother," I said. "Incest should be sin enough. But to be sure, we might catch him plotting some evil thing against me."

"That would be perfect," the student said, gripping his hands in angst. His forehead began to bead with sweat as the shrill voice of the barmaid rang out to our table.

"I can do something!" She whined. "Tell me what you need done, but tell me quick, I really need the money," she said. "I could…you know. Get him off guard. Give you a signal…something. Anything."

For the first time, I looked upon the barmaid with interest. She was still waiting by our table, her hands on her hips and red lips in a childish pout. Her hair was elegantly parted and pulled back into a knot. This female was certainly capable of some power.

"Are you married?" I asked. "If not we might ask you to be a chambermaid. The young man with the axe would be paying you, if all goes well."

The barmaid turned quickly to the student, then back to me. "I'm Emma Bovary, from the very fashionable France," she said. "I'm married to the most boring husband on this earth, and I've had two lovers since marriage. Now I must make up for my whims, since my husband allowed me to spend all of what we owned on material possessions. He's a doctor but has since disgraced his name and practice when one operation went very wrong. Now I'm forced to work to pay off my debts because otherwise I would never be caught in this obscene…"

"I'm Hamlet, Prince of Denmark," I said.

The student took off his hat, revealing dark straggly hair. "Rodion Raskolnikov, of Russia," he said. "Those close to me know me as Rodya. Most call me just Raskolnikov."

"I'm Madame Bovary to you two," the young woman said with a flirtatious smile. "And I should warn you it will go very badly if I cannot get this money."

"Don't worry, Madame," Raskolnikov said. "It will go ill for us all if this does not go through."

"I'll get your tea, young Hamlet, and we'll discuss this further," Emma said, and she flounced to the back of the pub.

Raskolnikov sighed. "Why do you want to kill the king? Besides your evident disgust for him, I mean. Has he done anything horrible to anyone except you?"

I raised my eyebrows. "You know, Rodya, I noticed that you needed to shave your face, but that's not for me to decide. It's for you. I can tell you to do something and you don't have to follow my suggestion, but at least you're aware that I think something needs to be done."

Raskolnikov, who had been digging a coin into the worn wood of the table as I spoke, suddenly met my eyes, one eyebrow raised. "What?" he asked dully.

"My father was murdered," I said. "His ghost came to me and told me to kill him. I have tried and failed, and when I heard about your murder…I knew it was right. The king must be killed I have been feigning madness…surely you know the whole court thinks I'm mad! This very king, my uncle, had me exiled from Denmark. I found papers marking my own execution."

Raskolnikov was staring at me with wide eyes. "Father's ghost…execution," he said. The boy certainly didn't look as if he was doing well.

"I killed his henchman Polonius," I said brightly, looking into my empty cup. "That fat stupid man was always plotting with my uncle against me."

"But you couldn't kill the king yourself? Why?" I glanced up at Raskolnikov who seemed to have snapped out of his stupor. His face was now sweaty and jaundiced.

"When I was a boy," I said, ignoring Raskolnikov's groan. "No, listen…it is relevant. I'm not just rambling on. When I was a boy I ran footraces and I loved them. But with boys it sometimes gets violent. Now, one boy who was racing me pushed me over so I couldn't pass him. I nearly fell in a mud patch! And though the crowds screamed to push him back so I could advance myself, I couldn't do it. I was too much of a coward, they said later."

"A coward? Or a good person? Or both?" Raskolnikov asked. The barmaid handed him a cup of steaming lemon tea and he flung it down the table to me.

"That is the question, sir," I said. "I wanted to do it and when I actually tried, the visions of me destroying an evil tyrant faded. I was filled with fear as to what I was doing. He was still my uncle, and he was still king and I was pretending to be mad…" I stared at Raskolnikov as if to dare him to say that I was mad. He fidgeted and straightened his collar.

"So you got exiled? That's exciting," Emma said. "You can go where you like and meet many lovers."

"I swear, this woman has no sense of reality," Raskolnikov said.

"She's alright," I said. "Useful."

"Do you always do that?" Raskolnikov asked as I slowly drained my tea. He was looking at m and shaking his head.

"What?"

"Change your mind about things? Remain indecisive for long periods of time?"

"I don't know," I said. "Sometimes I wonder if things are right or wrong, but I don't know if I really am that indecisive…"

Raskolnikov sighed and tilted his head. "Never mind," he said. "So Emma is definitely to join our merry troupe of killers?"

"MADAME!" Emma shrieked, and Raskolnikov jumped out of his chair, cowering.

"Sorry," she said a little quieter. "But you have to respect people's titles."

"In that case," Raskolnikov grumbled, resettling himself. "I propose that we are the Triple Assassins, not only because of our numbers but because we will not let the king of Denmark live longer than three days!"

"Hurray!" Emma squealed. "Wait…I thought there were three of us? Why are we the Triple Assassins?"

"'Tri' means 'three,'" said Raskolnikov. "Come on, Madame. I went to college."

"So did I," I said, suddenly remembering the axe that still lay across my lap. I threw it on the table. "Behold," I said excitedly. "First, Raskolnikov, you should shave your chin. Emma, er, Madame, you should get some peasant's clothes and look round the king's chambers."

"What are you going to do?" Raskolnikov asked quietly. "While Madame spies and I kill?"

"Oh…" I said. "Maybe I'll sneak around and try to find my good friend Horatio…once the king is dead I could make a nice entrance back to Elsinore." Raskolnikov nodded, while Emma stood off to the side and smiled voraciously.