A/N- Great, my internet connections crazy again. Don't know when it'll work again. And I still have no idea what is happening in my story, even though I wrote it. I just saw the JC movie though, and, wow, it was BORING. They cut out Cinna's part.
Caius Cassius was doodling on his textbook. Though doodling looks like simple, straightforward work, it isn't really that easy, especially if you are a perfectionist (Caius wasn't a perfectionist, but Brutus' company does have a little influence on a normal person's mind.) The doodle must always be just right; the shades of black, white and grey must always match each other and be in just the right proportion. The doodle must neither be too large nor too small. It must somehow fit itself on a corner of the page, so as to not block important studying matter. It must also be rather uninteresting; an overly beautiful doodle, a masterpiece, does not suit itself, for a doodle is not a painting.
Cassius wrinkled his brow in concentration.
'Class, class, you must pay attention,' Shakespeare told his English class. He was trying to explain to them that a double negative wasn't always necessarily correct grammar.
'Just because I use them,' he expained, 'doesn't mean it is right.'
'But you're famous,' Portia protested.
'You forgot your hand,' said Shakespeare, who had a strange obsession for the raising of hands rule, and also couldn't think for a decent reply to all her problems, 'and I shall therefore not answer you. From this we learn an important lesson; manners are of utmost importance-,'
'But she did raise her hand,' said Brutus, as confused as ever. School rules were something he forever failed to understand.
'But you did not,' Shakespeare told his tragic-hero, 'therefore; I shan't not listen to you either.'
'Two negatives make a positive,' said someone at the back of the class. He had raised his hand really high before speaking that even the teacher couldn't ignore him. He felt extremely proud of his decision to do so.
'Yes,' said Shakespeare, 'I do agree, but sometimes, um, oh look, Antony there has a question. Yes, Antony?'
'What are hybla bees?' Antony asked curiously.
'Yes, yes, excellent question,' said Shakespeare, 'would Cassius care to answer? Cassius?'
Casca nudged Caius so hard he nearly fell off his chair.
'Idiot! You spoilt my doodle! Yes, sir?'
'Hybla bees?'
Caius cleared his throat loudly, and spoke in a deep, slightly accented voice, 'Antony,
The posture of your blows are yet unkown;
But for your words, they rob the Hybla bees,
And leave them honeyless.'
Everyone cheered. Caius bowed, with tears in his eyes; the honour was all too much for him.
Along with the cheering, Caius' tears increased at an alarming rate. One of his contact lenses fell off. He sobbed even more at its loss as it had been horribly expensive. Then the other lens too succumbed to the pressure of the salty water leaking out off his eyes. This upset him doubly, as two lenses cost two times the price of one (this is simple unitary method, hello?) The water was soon all over him. It flowed over his now puffy red cheeks. The tears then somehow found their way into his nose, and from there, into his mouth. Because of this, he felt choked (it is difficult to breathe with tears in one's nose). And the icing on this big fat chocolate cake was that, the tears tasted bad. This led to even more tears.
'Now, now Cassius,' said Shakespeare, 'there is absolutely no reason to cry.'
'I even forgot why I was crying in the first place,' bawled Caius pathetically, 'I am so stupid.' And indeed he was - which unfortunately, led to more tears.
'I think it was something about a particular breed of bees,' said Portia. The class agreed.
'Okay, okay, we'll forget those bees for the moment then,' snapped Shakespeare.
'My question…' Antony objected.
'Yes, Pindarius shall answer it,' said Shakespeare, 'Pindarius?'
There was no answer.
'Pindarius?' Caius cried out, 'I need a hanky, Pindary, fetch me one ... wow, I haven't seen Pindarius in a long time.' And indeed he hadn't.
'Has anyone seen him?' asked Brutus.
'Who's Pindarius anyway?' said Octavius.
'I like his name,' said Antony conversationally, 'it rhymes with my own, Antonius-Pindarius. See?'
'Mine too,' added Octavius.
'What about Pindy?' said Caius. He looked accusingly at Shakespeare.
'Ohh…ahh, I forgot to tell you guys something. Oh, look, bell rang, gotta run,' said Shakespeare, who had already begun to pack his bag.
'But the bell did not ring,' said Portia.
'Maybe you are right, and maybe you are not, but you didn't raise your hand.'
Caius raised his hand, 'Where's Pindy?'
'He um,' said Shakespeare, 'he's in hell.'
Somewhere far, far away -
Albus Dumbledore sighed, 'why was I gay? I could've fallen for McGonagall any time I wanted.' (Dumbledore is a Harry Potter character.)
Pindarius looked at his glass of water. It was very dirty and full of insects.
'Doesn't anyone here care about hygiene,' he wondered aloud. He drank the water anyway as he had developed a sort of immunity to it. Insects did not bother him, he told himself, in fact, they were really tasty sometimes.
'Who am I kidding?' whinged Pindarius, 'I hate insects.'
'Drink juice or something then,' suggested Strato, 'they have spiders.'
'Big difference.'
'Spiders have eight legs, not six. And they belong to the class arthropoda, not insecta. Plus, they taste loads better.'
'Are you kidding? They've got all those calories!' replied Pindarius, shocked. In hell, everything had more calories. Even plain water made you balloon up till it hurt. That was the price you paid for having sinned.
'Bleah,' Pindarius continued, 'that Cassius didn't do me a favour by saving me. I wonder why I served him, washing his clothes (even his underwear sometimes) and combing his hair…and look where he landed me. Here.'
'I hope you've learnt your lesson,' said Strato, munching on his spider.
'Not to be nice and not to do what your master tells you,' said Pindarius, 'yeah.'
'I've learnt mine too.'
'And what's that?'
'Brutus is stupid. He took advantage of me being sleepy. I didn't realize I was killing him.'
'That's honest Brutus for you.'
'My life has some smatch of honour…I didn't realize that was an insult. A smatch, I mean, seriously. How much is one smatch?'
'Twenty-five kilos, approximately, I think.' He opened his notebook to check.
'Who am I kidding?' Pindarius continued, 'I have nothing written in this notebook.' He threw the notebook aside where it crushed a giant cockroach with. These giant cockroaches were big, brown and ugly. They were very common in Hell, where they were bred at lightning-speed. Their antennae were used for whipping convicts. The cockroaches were slimy and were weapons to spread diseases. They had twenty-five hundred and eighty four eyes so that they could find hiding prisoners quickly enough. They also smelt really, really bad.
'Ew,' said Pindarius. White gooey stuff was oozing out of the cockroach's broken back.
'Hey,' replied the crushed cockroach in a wheezy voice, 'I don't exactly like my job either, so you can quit complaining and throwing things at me.'
'Sorry,' said Strato on Pindarius' behalf, since the latter looked close to throwing up.
'Its quite all right,' said the cockroach, 'don't give me an excuse to whip you, and get this wretched notebook off me.'
Strato took the notebook off it. Pindarius winced.
'I shall get going now,' said the cockroach. And he did.
'How are we ever going to get out of here?' moaned Pindarius, after the cockroach was well out of earshot.
Strato didn't reply. He had fallen asleep on his bed of cold, hard, stone, which was decorated with poison ivy and other plants that made you itch, and also served as dinner sometimes.
Pindarius, partly out of misery, and partly out of boredom, fell onto his knees and screamed as loud as he could, 'NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!'
Scene changes -
'Hmmm…' said Portia, 'I wonder why Shakespeare ran out on us, refusing to explain.'
'Maybe he needed to go to the bathroom,' suggested Octavius.
'Maybe he didn't want to tell us why Pindy was in hell,' said Caius, ignoring Octavius completely.
'Maybe he needed the bathroom really badly,' continued Octavius.
'Stop saying the same thing again and again!' said Antony angrily, 'it's irritating.'
'I wouldn't repeat myself if you would listen to me,' Octavius grumbled.
'Fine,' said Portia, 'you go check the bathrooms, Octavius.'
Octavius left.
'Poor Pindy,' said Caius sadly, 'and he used to wash my clothes real nice. They used to come out all nice and sparkly and white.'
Then the bell really rang and Robo-Dude entered the class.
'It is time,' he said, 'for mathematics. A science more beautiful than even music. I'm too sexy for my-,'
'Excuse me, professor,' said Brutus, raising his hand high into the air.
'Yes, speak, have you a doubt? Say it out loud, that the class may hear. What is your question? Is it the result of adding two and two? Or of multiplying them? For in both cases, my answer shall remain ever the same.'
'No sir, I wanted to ask if you knew something about Elizabethan Catholic belief.'
'Oh yes, I do.' He shot two bullets into the ceiling. The class cheered, which encouraged him to shoot another seventy-two of them into the same ceiling. It is a mystery how that ceiling still stands. We may never know.
'There was this one belief, which says that suicide lands you in hell.'
The class gasped. Robo-dude shot yet another bullet into the air.
'Then why and how am I here?' asked Brutus.
'Because you didn't commit suicide,' said Robo-dude pleasantly.
'I did too.'
'So did I,' said Caius.
'And me,' said Portia.
'No, no, no. Strato killed Brutus, Pindarius took Cassius' life, and Portia was much too unimportant to be thought upon.'
'Oh, so Pindy is in hell instead of me,' said Caius, 'and Strato instead of Bru.'
Robo-dude nodded. The nodding was much too much pressure on his delicate metallic head, which toppled off his neck immediately.
'YAY!' shrieked Antony. Then he, Caesar, and Cleopatra played football (soccer if you're American) with the head.
'No, no, no!' cried the head, 'arghhh…'
'We must,' said Caius, ignoring his teacher's wailing head, 'launch a rescue mission.'
'And Strato had some twenty-five kilos of honour in him,' said Brutus, his eyes wide open in shock, 'he cannot rot in hell.'
'Marry,' said Casca, who had woken up due to Robo-dude's shrieks, 'he must not.'
'And why mustn't he marry?' demanded Portia.
'I meant "in the name of the Virgin Mary, he must not",' said Casca, 'what are you, stupid? I was punning.'
'Hmph!' said Portia, who did not approve of such meaningless puns, 'okay, whatever. What about our rescue mission. We'll ask Shakespeare, wherever he is.'
As if it was a reply to her statement, Octavius' voice came out of nowhere and said, 'I have found him. He was in the bathroom, and a long time he was taking too.'
'Sorry I had to leave so suddenly,' said Shakespeare, 'ah, um. Whatever are you doing to that teacher Mark Antony? Such disrespect! I may have to expel you for such a hideous crime, it is simply not allowed!'
'I was only playing football, sir.'
'Oh, go on then. Somebody does need to improve the condition of sports in our school.'
'We must rescue them sir,' said Portia, 'imagine their suffering!'
'Oh, okay, you can go do that,' said Shakespeare irritably, 'I shall go have my lunch.' And he left.
'He's not exactly eager to help us, is he?' said Caius.
'We'll do this ourselves then,' said Portia. She packed her bag and stepped outside.
'Aren't you following me?' she demanded.
Caius, Casca, and Marcus Brutus stepped outside, wondering how they were supposed to get into hell.
A/N- I don't know if anyone's even reading this story now. I disappear for so long. Sorry, people, but I have to study a lot. I'm, like, super busy. And when I'm free, my computer stops working. If anyone actually bothered to read this, do review. And I promise, this story will finish within this lifetime.
