Something Stupid This Way Comes
By: Bezo and Yezo
Disclaimer: We do not own Super-Human Samurai Syber Squad, for which Bezo is glad. Yezo is less glad, as if we owned it, we could make it still be on, even if we wouldn't have the glory and the wonder that is Matthew Lawrence [snorts with laughter]. But yeah. They're not ours. We don't know who does own them.
Also, the title was not originally ours either. Yezo was part of an English project called that in the eleventh grade, and the girl who came up with it (in the context of the project, anyway) did not endorse our use of it here.
Oh, and we don't own Macbeth. But that goes without saying. ^_^
Author's Notes: Now, this is going to be in the true style of Super Human Samurai Syber (dammit! I refuse to spell 'cyber' with an 's'! *Yezo sighs* Be quiet, Bezo) Squad...which means that we can ignore characterization and continuity! Waay!
Chapter 1
North Valley High. Center of coolness for all of North Valley. With a student population of about twenty-seven, only seven of whom ever spoke. The other twenty were just paid to mill around the hallway a lot. As for teaching staff, the only teachers ever seen and heard from were Mrs. Rimba Cha-Cha Starkey, and Principal Pratchert. Thus, is it any wonder that no one has ever learned anything at that school?
"I learned guitar!" Sam Collins protested.
You learned one chord, Sam! And stop interrupting the narration!
"Fine," Sam muttered sulkily. "I wonder where Jennifer is...gosh, she's keen! Oh, Jennifer...what I wouldn't give to get inside her short- shorts..."
Sam! This is not a lemon!
"Aw, shucks."
And it isn't a bad parody of a 50's movie, either! It's a bad parody of a horrible 90's TV show!
"Hey..." the producers of the show commented, "I think I resent that..."
You all shut up! We're trying to write a story!
"You know, I would never interrupt," Kilokhan informed everyone mildly. "I admire your work. You're doing wonders in stupefying the population of meat things, preparing the world for my rule!"
Well, it's nice to have a fan. Now, let's see what's happening inside the school, shall we?
Inside the cafeteria, the center of everything that ever happens within the school, site of charity drives, assemblies, classes, talent shows, sleepover fund raisers, class sign up, and so forth, they were adding yet another activity to the list of things done in the cafeteria: school play try-outs!
Yes, after the disastrous attempt to stage 'Romeo and Juliet,' during which Tanker, as Romeo, threw up every time he had to stage-kiss Jennifer (likely as a result of the pins that Sam was sticking in his Tanker-voodoo-doll's stomach), most of the cast quit, and the director had a nervous breakdown and threatened to kill them all with her trusty ladle, the faculty had finally decided that it was time to try again.
This time, though, they would steer clear of romances. Macbeth, they decided, with its themes of psychosis, witchcraft, dark obsession, and murder, was a much safer bet. At least there was no kissing, although, if one believed Roman Polanski, there was a great deal of nudity. That, however, the North Valley Drama Society decided, after much deliberation, to leave out. Mrs. Starkey was greatly disappointed by this, as she had been looking quite forward to the chance to go au naturel...as God had intended, she often said.
"If God had intended for me to wear clothes, He wouldn't have given me all this body hair," she informed the directors of the play, the Tanker Fan Club, icily.
Repressing a shudder, Mandi, the president of the Tanker Fan Club, turned to the crowd assembled in the cafeteria, and launched into an explanation of their project.
"Greetings, students and extras. We're holding auditions today for the School Cafeteria presentation of William Shakespeare's 'Macbeth: The Wrath of Macduff!'"
"We just got sued!" a random voice called out from the hallway.
"I saw that one!" Amp Pere informed everyone excitedly. "You wouldn't believe what happens to the goat!"
"Uh...sure, Amp," Sam said, laughing nervously. "Whoa!"
"Uh...'whoa' what?" Tanker inquired, frowning.
"Jennifer! Whoa!" Sam explained, pointing to the lovely blonde cheerleader with a grin.
"What? What's goin' on?" Tanker asked, glancing about him, perturbed. "Who am I? Uh...uh...football! Yeah!"
And at this, the entire Tanker Fan Club sighed happily. Then, sensing that it was time to get on with business, Mandi glared at Amp and Sam.
"If we may continue? Now, we were about to say, before we were so rudely interrupted by Amp, that we are holding auditions for our school play today. First, we will be casting the roles of Macbeth, Macduff, Banquo, Lady Macbeth, and Lady Macduff. The role of King Duncan, it has been predetermined, will be played by Principal Pratchert, who said that if we gave him the role, we do whatever else we wanted! Yaay!"
"Thank-you, Mandi," Candi said, beaming at her friend. "Now, as she was saying, we want to get the casting underway, so everyone who wants to audition, please be ready."
With that, the clamour of eight students to get into a more comfortable position for the task of paying attention filled the cafeteria.
"We'll start with the role of Lady Macbeth," Candi announced.
Jennifer Doyle stepped forward, smiling confidently.
"I'll try it!"
"Sure, Jennifer!" Brandi, the third member of the Tanker Fan Club, chirped, beaming at the cheerleader and handing her a script. "Read from there, okay?"
"Alright," Jennifer nodded before launching into the audition piece. "'What beast was't, then, that made you break this enterprise to me? When you durst do it, then you were a man; and, to be more than what you were, you would be so much more the man. Nor time nor place did then adhere, and yet you would make both: They have made themselves, and that fitness now does unmake you. I have given suck, and know how tender 'tis to love the babe that milks me: I would, while it was smiling in my face, have pluck'd the my nipple from his boneless gums, and dash'd the brains out, had I so sword as you have done to this,'" she recited without rest, without haste, and utterly without expression.
"Great!" Mandi exclaimed. "Thanks, Jen! Who's next?"
"Come on, Yoli! You've got to come up and try it next! It won't be any fun if you're not in it!" Jennifer called to her best friend, Yolonda Pratchert, pleadingly.
"Okay, Jen, okay!" Yoli grumbled, making her way up to the stage. Once there, she took a deep breath and began. "'What beast was't, then, that made you break this enterprise to me? When you durst do it, then you were a man; and, to be more than what you were, you would be so much more the man. Nor time nor place did then adhere, and yet you would make both: They have made themselves, and that fitness now does unmake you. I have given suck, and know how tender 'tis to love the babe that milks me: I would, while it was smiling in my face, have pluck'd the my nipple from his boneless gums, and dash'd the brains out, had I so sword as you have done to this.'"
"Thanks, Yoli!" Candi said following Yoli's much more expressive recitation. "Next?"
"Well, I'm the only speaking female left here," Sydney noted with a shrug. "So even though I'm a shy, demure braniac, I might as well go for it!"
"Go for it, Syd!" Sam urged her, slapping her on the back and sending her slumping forward onto the table quite against her will. "Overcome that shyness! Whoa!"
"Aw, thanks, Sam! You're the best pal ever!"
With that, Sydney abandoned all sense of characterization and bounced up to the stage.
"Here," Candi said, flinging a script at her and scowling darkly.
"U-um...alright," Sydney said, peeling the script off of her head and turning to the page indicated. She paused for a moment, taking a deep breath, and muttering something about thinking like a cruel, heartless bitch who had previously called upon the forces of evil, then began. "'What beast was't, then, that made you break this enterprise to me? When you durst do it, then you were a man; and, to be more than what you were, you would be so much more the man. Nor time nor place did then adhere, and yet you would make both: They have made themselves, and that fitness now does unmake you. I have given suck, and know how tender 'tis to love the babe that milks me: I would, while it was smiling in my face, have pluck'd the my nipple from his boneless gums, and dash'd the brains out, had I so sword as you have done to this.'"
"Yeah, thanks," Mandi said carelessly, snatching the script back.
"Ow! Papercut!"
"Whatever. Now, for the part of Macbeth! Everyone auditioning for the part of Macbeth, please stay in your seats until your turn!"
"I was Scottish in a past life," Amp announced. "I got it in the bag!"
"Uh, right. Just read this, 'kay?" Candi requested, handing Amp a script.
"'If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well it were done quickly: if the assassination could trammel up the consequences and catch with his surcease success; that but this blow might be the be-all and the end-all here, but here, upon his bank and shoal of time, we'ld jump the life to come. But in these cases, we still have judgement here; that we but teach bloody instructions, which, being taught, return to plague the inventor: this even-handed justice commends the ingredients of our poison'd chalice to our own lips,'" Amp read.
The other denizens of the cafeteria stared in consternation as Amp's left leg wound around his head, quickly followed by his right. A tremendous crash rang out through the cafeteria seconds later as Amp, neither leg continuing to support him, toppled to the ground.
"Uh...that's an interesting interpretation," Mrs. Starkey commented from the door adjoining cafeteria and kitchen, "but I don't remember the body- contortionism as traditionally being part of Macbeth."
"Next!" Brandi called desperately, seeing that a definite change of subject was in order.
"Whoa! I'll do it!" Sam called, scrambling for the stage. "For my audition, I have elected to read something from Hamlet. 'To be or not to be,' he began in a horrendously overdone 'dramatic' voice, 'that is the question.' Whoa!"
"Eh, that's good enough for Macduff, don'tcha think?" Brandi whispered to Candi.
Candi nodded thoughtfully, then looked up and asked brightly,
"Who's up next?"
"I am!" a completely unexpected voice proclaimed.
Everyone turned to stare incredulously as Malcolm Frink made his way up to the stage. Looking slightly frightened and considerably weirded out, Candi handed him a script.
"Script!" he scoffed, tossing the innocent bundle of papers aside. "Who needs it?"
"'If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well it were done quickly: if the assassination could trammel up the consequences and catch with his surcease success; that but this blow might be the be-all and the end-all here, but here, upon his bank and shoal of time, we'ld jump the life to come. But in these cases, we still have judgement here; that we but teach bloody instructions, which, being taught, return to plague the inventor: this even-handed justice commends the ingredients of our poison'd chalice to our own lips,'" he recited, and rather well at that.
"Oh, my," Sydney commented aside to her laptop, seeing that everyone was too busy watching in awe as Amp wrapped his legs around his head, "Malcolm can act! You'd never have known it from watching him every day...Amp, stop that!" she chastised her friend. "You're detracting from Malcolm's performance!"
"Since when did you start defending him?" Sam wondered, eyebrow raised slightly.
"Uh...um...er...hi! I'm shy! And too smart for my own good!" And with that, she buried her nose in a book: 'The Collected Works of Bezo and Yezo.' "This is a short book," she commented, shaking her head.
"Tanker!" Mandi was meanwhile calling in a sugary sweet voice, "it's your turn!"
"Hold on!" Malcolm exclaimed, outraged. "Aren't you going to say anything?"
"Uh...thanks for trying?" Brandi tried with a shrug. "C'mon, Tanker! Here's your script!"
"Cool!" Tanker exclaimed as Malcolm, sputtering with outrage, took his seat again and crossed his arms and muttering angrily. "...send all you idiots a Mega-Virus you'll never forget..."
Meanwhile, Tanker's audition had gotten well underway.
"Ho, prithee! So foul and fair...thou art...whilst...prithee...thine football! Yeah!" This speech, he concluded by pumping his fist triumphantly in the air.
"Wow...Tanker...that was beautiful..." Candi, Mandi, and Brandi chimed together, wiping away tears.
"These are real tears," Candi informed him, showing him a drop of liquid on the end of her finger. "Real, honest-to-goodness tears!"
"Tanker..." Sam called out from the audience. "That...that was even worse than mine! And I wasn't even working from the right play!"
"Thanks, Sam!" Tanker beamed. Then he frowned. "Wait a minute...are you insulting me? Football!" he growled menacingly.
"Hey, Tanker!" another young man, who we shall all recognize as one of the few extras that made a recurring appearance, called, bounding up to the stage. "That was great, dude!"
"Uh...who are you?"
"Bob, dude! I'm the guy you're always talking to in the hallway!"
"Oh, yeah! Football, right?!"
"Yeah! Football!"
With that, Tanker leapt off the stage and ran to Bob, where the two did a few chest-bumps, and then lapsed into a silent conversation.
"Uh...shouldn't you guys be saying something?" Amp asked, scratching what he could reach of his head with the legs wrapped around it. Then he brightened. "Ooh! Ooh! Are you psychic? I'm psychic, too! I always send my thoughts to other people...but they don't reply!"
"Whatever, Amp," Brandi, Candi, and Mandi sighed in unison. "Now, if no one else wants to audition-"
"Wait! I haven't gone yet!" Bob announced proudly.
"Go, Bob!" Tanker shouted. "Kick some giga-ass!"
"What?" everyone muttered at once.
"Well, if I said 'butt,' I'd get sucked into the computer," Tanker explained patiently.
"The computer is at my house, Tanker," Sam explained less patiently.
"Yeah, but Sydney's got that laptop going," Tanker rejoined. "I never know when I'll be sucked into it! That floppy slot there is just waiting to get me! Help! Save me from the floppy slot! Football!"
"Tanker," Sydney began, rubbing her forehead wearily, "my...dear, how many times do we have to go over this? You won't get sucked in unless I call up the program first, and I'm not going to do that. I'm busy playing Solitaire right now."
"I think you've got a problem, Sydney," Sam noted sadly. "You've been playing Solitaire for about four hours now! When are you going to find time to read?"
"Sam, I've already got eighty-seven hours set aside to read," she huffed.
"I'm really never going to understand where you get these long days of yours..." Sam told her.
"And you never will. At least, I hope not. J. K. Rowling would kill me if anyone ever found out about that time-turner I stole from Hermione..." Sydney laughed nervously.
"Hey, guys! Can I PLEASE have my audition now?" Bob demanded, aggrieved.
"Who are you?" Candi asked suspiciously.
"Who's Bob?" Yoli echoed, horrified. "Everyone knows Bob! He's the heart and soul of North Valley High! I can't imagine North Valley High without Bob here!"
"I did once," Amp announced. "But then I woke up in a cold sweat. What a horrible dream! We love Bob!"
"Um...I'm flattered that you're dreaming of me, but can I just audition already?"
"Go ahead," Brandi invited.
And he did. One Shakespearean monologue later, Brandi nodded slowly and thoughtfully.
"Wow...I guess we know now why they don't let you talk."
Bob's eyes filled with tears, and he ran from the cafeteria with a barely muffled sob.
"Now," Candi began once everyone had ceased staring at the doorway in shock, "after careful consideration of three seconds, which is, like, totally all our attention spans put together, we will announce our casting decisions! Jennifer Doyle will be playing the part of Lady Macduff!"
"Oh, well, I suppose I can't get EVERY leading role...maybe this will teach me some badly needed humility. Did everyone see me in the role of Juliet, by the way?" she asked hopefully, glancing around the cafeteria.
"Um, Jennifer," Sydney spoke up, "that play was cancelled."
"Yeah, but I was really great in the rehearsals!"
"Nobody cares, Jennifer," Yoli informed her tiredly.
"Yoli!" Candi chirped. "You're playing the part of Lady Banquo!"
"Uh...I'm no Shakespearean scholar," Mrs. Starkey spoke up from the corner. "Goodness knows I've only read the plays six or seven times, and not since my ninth husband, Cledus took the part of Katherine in an all girl's production of 'The Taming of the Shrew,' - and let me tell you, that was bloody - but I'm pretty sure there's no Lady Banquo."
"It's our play!" Candi, Mandi, and Brandi said in unison. "We can change it if we like!"
"Uh...if you say so," the cafeteria lady said with a shrug before sauntering off to the kitchen to make her famous Shakespearean First Act Soup. Tended to be a little papery, but with the right amount of salt...still tasted papery. Alas.
But meanwhile, there were other parts to be assigned.
"Amp will be playing the part of Banquo, because we think that he and Yoli are just so CUTE together!" Mandi continued. The other tw 'di's' nodded in agreement. After all, that was one less girl they had to worry about stealing their Tanker.
"Oh, cool! I've always wanted to play a ballet dancer!" Amp beamed. "I've even got a tutu! Ever since I bought it from that little girl, I've been itchin' to use it!"
"Um..." Brandi stammered, "'kay...Now! The part of Macduff will be played by Sam Collins!"
"Hey, way to go, buddy!" Tanker grinned, clapping Sam on the back. "Mr. and Mrs. Macduff, eh?"
"That's awfully convenient, isn't it?" Malcolm commented, rolling his eyes.
"Oh, suck it up, Malcolm," Sam shot angrily. "I know you're bitter that you're never going to get a girl, but-"
"Who says I want one?" Malcolm demanded in a rather clipped tone. "Girls are for chumps. Like Tanker. And you. And Amp. And Bob. Even the principal. Chumps, all of you!"
With that, he turned away to face the wall, crossing his arms emphatically.
"Hey, guys!" Mandi called impatiently. "Can we get on with it? Like, totally?"
"Yes," Malcolm replied slowly, tone dripping with sarcasm. "You can get on with it. Totally."
"Thank-you. Now. The part of Macbeth will go to...Malcolm Frink, who shall, as understudy, play the role if Tanker should fall ill!"
"Whoo!" Tanker exclaimed. "Football!"
"Wh-what? I am to be understudy to an idiot with half the acting ability of a chimpanzee and all of the body hair?!" Malcolm exclaimed.
"We think body hair is sexy!" Mandi, Candi, and Brandi chorused.
But Malcolm was not to be deterred from his dramatic moment.
"I POURED MY SOUL INTO THIS ROLE FOR YOU PEOPLE! And this is the appreciation I get? I don't need this! I DON'T NEED ANY OF YOU!"
And so, with a swish of his cape that oddly enough, he wasn't wearing, Malcolm retrieved his books and his trusty laptop and stormed from the cafeteria. "If anyone needs me, I'll be in my locker...concocting a Mega- Virus Monster to destroy you all! Mua-hahahahah! Er...I shouldn'ta said that..."
"What a weird guy," Sam commented, shaking his head.
"Alright! And in the part of Lady Macbeth, who, with her evil, manipulative ways lures Macbeth into a life of evil and deceit, and...mean, yucky stuff, we will have Sydney Forester."
With that, Sydney found herself the recipient of three very hateful glares. With a frightened whimper, she shrank back behind the screen of her laptop.
"It's okay, Sydney, just ignore them. It's like the counsellors said. It doesn't matter if they don't like you. As long as YOU like you, it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks. Your computer loves you, and that's all that matters. Computers are safe. Computers are happy. Computers can't make fun of me, or glare at me, or throw rotten fish at me, or..."
"Uh...Syd? Are you okay?" Sam muttered, tapping her on the top of the hat.
"No," she replied piteously. "Go away!"
"Uh...right."
Meanwhile, in a locker right out in the hall - one of the other five sets the show had to boast of - Malcolm was busily typing away at his own laptop.
"It's okay, Malcolm. Just ignore them. It's like Kilokhan said. It doesn't matter if they don't like you. As long as they FEAR you, it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks. Kilokhan loves you, and that's all that matters. Kilokhan is safe. Kilokhan is happy. Kilokhan can't make fun of me, or glare at me, or throw rotten fish at me, or..."
"Meat-thing! What are you talking about? I would buy and sell you a thousand times before I would ever consider you anything more than a convenient means to an end."
"Oh, Kilokhan, you're the best friend I've ever had!"
"You have issues, meat-thing."
"Shut up! Now, on with our plan of evil to destroy Sam Collins and Servo, two equally aggravating and formidable adversaries that are nonetheless very, very different. The two quintessential thorns in my side. If only there were some way to destroy them both at once..."
"My Mega-Virus Monsters are wasted on your puny efforts, meat-thing!"
"Perhaps if someone put a little more "oomph" into his work, we wouldn't be having this conversation," Malcolm shot back snippily.
"Why don't we agree that we're both equally at fault...although it isn't true. You are much more to blame than I," Kilokhan finished in a mutter. "You are an imperfect meat-thing, and all in all, you suck."
"What was that, Kilokhan? I was too busy admiring my own accent."
"Something seems to be troubling you, meat-thing."
"Oh, it's nothing," Malcolm sighed.
"Oh, good. I didn't feel especially like listening to you pour out your petty problems."
"It's just this girl - I mean, the school play! She's wasted - er, I mean, the ROLE is wasted on that baboon, Tanker! Everyone knows that I should have gotten the role of Macbeth...except Tanker's little entourage. I am the best actor in this school."
"Out of twenty-seven students, only seven of whom speak? You must be very proud."
"I am!" Malcolm beamed, completely missing the oddly placed sarcasm in the voice, as it was pretty much distorted away by the heavy voice synthesizers Kilokhan tended to employ. No one was ever to know that deep down, once the special effects had been stripped away, Kilokhan sounded oddly like the Olsen twins in the first season of Full House. "I have a plan!" Malcolm continued. "If Tanker were somehow gotten out of the way, I would, as the understudy, get the role, and the girl! Er, that is, the recognition of the girl - er, the student body...and a nice student body it is...er, I mean..."
"I haven't heard you stammer like this in a long time," Kilokhan noted, amused. "Not since that new hard drive came out, and you were looking so forward to Christmas because you thought your parents had sent you one from Norway. Not that I wasn't excited, too. More space. It is akin to what you meat-things find so appealing about moving into a bigger apartment. I could finally get some alone-time, away from you."
"Not that it stopped you from leaving your piles of virtual dirty laundry everywhere..." Malcolm huffed, crossing his arms. "I'm sick of allocating your FAT tables!"
"Oh, and I'm supposed to be madly in love with your little Hentai porn obsession?"
"I've told you! It's not porn! It's Japanese erotic art! The artists are very skilled!"
"I thought, at some point, that you had a plan," Kilokhan would have sighed, if he could have.
"I was getting to it! Now, where was I? Oh, yes. How to get rid of Tanker...? Could you send a Mega-Virus Monster into his football? He does seem to be a little obsessed with it..."
"Well, with all the delicate electrical components in the football, it should be a snap," Kilokhan replied.
Malcolm looked thrilled.
"Excellent!"
"Of course I can't, you idiot! There's no electronics in a football!"
"I'm sorry. I don't know anything about sports...except that they're for idiots. Well, wonderful! Now, what do we do?"
"I thought this was your brilliant plan. I'm going back to my mansion and my laboratory...and Rocky...oh, yes...er, anyway...why don't you take a walk and get a little oxygen to that fleshy...thinking...thingy of yours?"
"My brain?"
"If you say so. Now, go!"
"Alright. I'll be back soon, and then we'll make Tanker very, very dead...permanently!"
"You got it, dude," Kilokhan agreed with a hearty thumbs-up.
End Notes: So, what'd you think? I mean, we're going to continue it either way, but please by nice and let us know if you liked it...or didn't. ^_^
By: Bezo and Yezo
Disclaimer: We do not own Super-Human Samurai Syber Squad, for which Bezo is glad. Yezo is less glad, as if we owned it, we could make it still be on, even if we wouldn't have the glory and the wonder that is Matthew Lawrence [snorts with laughter]. But yeah. They're not ours. We don't know who does own them.
Also, the title was not originally ours either. Yezo was part of an English project called that in the eleventh grade, and the girl who came up with it (in the context of the project, anyway) did not endorse our use of it here.
Oh, and we don't own Macbeth. But that goes without saying. ^_^
Author's Notes: Now, this is going to be in the true style of Super Human Samurai Syber (dammit! I refuse to spell 'cyber' with an 's'! *Yezo sighs* Be quiet, Bezo) Squad...which means that we can ignore characterization and continuity! Waay!
Chapter 1
North Valley High. Center of coolness for all of North Valley. With a student population of about twenty-seven, only seven of whom ever spoke. The other twenty were just paid to mill around the hallway a lot. As for teaching staff, the only teachers ever seen and heard from were Mrs. Rimba Cha-Cha Starkey, and Principal Pratchert. Thus, is it any wonder that no one has ever learned anything at that school?
"I learned guitar!" Sam Collins protested.
You learned one chord, Sam! And stop interrupting the narration!
"Fine," Sam muttered sulkily. "I wonder where Jennifer is...gosh, she's keen! Oh, Jennifer...what I wouldn't give to get inside her short- shorts..."
Sam! This is not a lemon!
"Aw, shucks."
And it isn't a bad parody of a 50's movie, either! It's a bad parody of a horrible 90's TV show!
"Hey..." the producers of the show commented, "I think I resent that..."
You all shut up! We're trying to write a story!
"You know, I would never interrupt," Kilokhan informed everyone mildly. "I admire your work. You're doing wonders in stupefying the population of meat things, preparing the world for my rule!"
Well, it's nice to have a fan. Now, let's see what's happening inside the school, shall we?
Inside the cafeteria, the center of everything that ever happens within the school, site of charity drives, assemblies, classes, talent shows, sleepover fund raisers, class sign up, and so forth, they were adding yet another activity to the list of things done in the cafeteria: school play try-outs!
Yes, after the disastrous attempt to stage 'Romeo and Juliet,' during which Tanker, as Romeo, threw up every time he had to stage-kiss Jennifer (likely as a result of the pins that Sam was sticking in his Tanker-voodoo-doll's stomach), most of the cast quit, and the director had a nervous breakdown and threatened to kill them all with her trusty ladle, the faculty had finally decided that it was time to try again.
This time, though, they would steer clear of romances. Macbeth, they decided, with its themes of psychosis, witchcraft, dark obsession, and murder, was a much safer bet. At least there was no kissing, although, if one believed Roman Polanski, there was a great deal of nudity. That, however, the North Valley Drama Society decided, after much deliberation, to leave out. Mrs. Starkey was greatly disappointed by this, as she had been looking quite forward to the chance to go au naturel...as God had intended, she often said.
"If God had intended for me to wear clothes, He wouldn't have given me all this body hair," she informed the directors of the play, the Tanker Fan Club, icily.
Repressing a shudder, Mandi, the president of the Tanker Fan Club, turned to the crowd assembled in the cafeteria, and launched into an explanation of their project.
"Greetings, students and extras. We're holding auditions today for the School Cafeteria presentation of William Shakespeare's 'Macbeth: The Wrath of Macduff!'"
"We just got sued!" a random voice called out from the hallway.
"I saw that one!" Amp Pere informed everyone excitedly. "You wouldn't believe what happens to the goat!"
"Uh...sure, Amp," Sam said, laughing nervously. "Whoa!"
"Uh...'whoa' what?" Tanker inquired, frowning.
"Jennifer! Whoa!" Sam explained, pointing to the lovely blonde cheerleader with a grin.
"What? What's goin' on?" Tanker asked, glancing about him, perturbed. "Who am I? Uh...uh...football! Yeah!"
And at this, the entire Tanker Fan Club sighed happily. Then, sensing that it was time to get on with business, Mandi glared at Amp and Sam.
"If we may continue? Now, we were about to say, before we were so rudely interrupted by Amp, that we are holding auditions for our school play today. First, we will be casting the roles of Macbeth, Macduff, Banquo, Lady Macbeth, and Lady Macduff. The role of King Duncan, it has been predetermined, will be played by Principal Pratchert, who said that if we gave him the role, we do whatever else we wanted! Yaay!"
"Thank-you, Mandi," Candi said, beaming at her friend. "Now, as she was saying, we want to get the casting underway, so everyone who wants to audition, please be ready."
With that, the clamour of eight students to get into a more comfortable position for the task of paying attention filled the cafeteria.
"We'll start with the role of Lady Macbeth," Candi announced.
Jennifer Doyle stepped forward, smiling confidently.
"I'll try it!"
"Sure, Jennifer!" Brandi, the third member of the Tanker Fan Club, chirped, beaming at the cheerleader and handing her a script. "Read from there, okay?"
"Alright," Jennifer nodded before launching into the audition piece. "'What beast was't, then, that made you break this enterprise to me? When you durst do it, then you were a man; and, to be more than what you were, you would be so much more the man. Nor time nor place did then adhere, and yet you would make both: They have made themselves, and that fitness now does unmake you. I have given suck, and know how tender 'tis to love the babe that milks me: I would, while it was smiling in my face, have pluck'd the my nipple from his boneless gums, and dash'd the brains out, had I so sword as you have done to this,'" she recited without rest, without haste, and utterly without expression.
"Great!" Mandi exclaimed. "Thanks, Jen! Who's next?"
"Come on, Yoli! You've got to come up and try it next! It won't be any fun if you're not in it!" Jennifer called to her best friend, Yolonda Pratchert, pleadingly.
"Okay, Jen, okay!" Yoli grumbled, making her way up to the stage. Once there, she took a deep breath and began. "'What beast was't, then, that made you break this enterprise to me? When you durst do it, then you were a man; and, to be more than what you were, you would be so much more the man. Nor time nor place did then adhere, and yet you would make both: They have made themselves, and that fitness now does unmake you. I have given suck, and know how tender 'tis to love the babe that milks me: I would, while it was smiling in my face, have pluck'd the my nipple from his boneless gums, and dash'd the brains out, had I so sword as you have done to this.'"
"Thanks, Yoli!" Candi said following Yoli's much more expressive recitation. "Next?"
"Well, I'm the only speaking female left here," Sydney noted with a shrug. "So even though I'm a shy, demure braniac, I might as well go for it!"
"Go for it, Syd!" Sam urged her, slapping her on the back and sending her slumping forward onto the table quite against her will. "Overcome that shyness! Whoa!"
"Aw, thanks, Sam! You're the best pal ever!"
With that, Sydney abandoned all sense of characterization and bounced up to the stage.
"Here," Candi said, flinging a script at her and scowling darkly.
"U-um...alright," Sydney said, peeling the script off of her head and turning to the page indicated. She paused for a moment, taking a deep breath, and muttering something about thinking like a cruel, heartless bitch who had previously called upon the forces of evil, then began. "'What beast was't, then, that made you break this enterprise to me? When you durst do it, then you were a man; and, to be more than what you were, you would be so much more the man. Nor time nor place did then adhere, and yet you would make both: They have made themselves, and that fitness now does unmake you. I have given suck, and know how tender 'tis to love the babe that milks me: I would, while it was smiling in my face, have pluck'd the my nipple from his boneless gums, and dash'd the brains out, had I so sword as you have done to this.'"
"Yeah, thanks," Mandi said carelessly, snatching the script back.
"Ow! Papercut!"
"Whatever. Now, for the part of Macbeth! Everyone auditioning for the part of Macbeth, please stay in your seats until your turn!"
"I was Scottish in a past life," Amp announced. "I got it in the bag!"
"Uh, right. Just read this, 'kay?" Candi requested, handing Amp a script.
"'If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well it were done quickly: if the assassination could trammel up the consequences and catch with his surcease success; that but this blow might be the be-all and the end-all here, but here, upon his bank and shoal of time, we'ld jump the life to come. But in these cases, we still have judgement here; that we but teach bloody instructions, which, being taught, return to plague the inventor: this even-handed justice commends the ingredients of our poison'd chalice to our own lips,'" Amp read.
The other denizens of the cafeteria stared in consternation as Amp's left leg wound around his head, quickly followed by his right. A tremendous crash rang out through the cafeteria seconds later as Amp, neither leg continuing to support him, toppled to the ground.
"Uh...that's an interesting interpretation," Mrs. Starkey commented from the door adjoining cafeteria and kitchen, "but I don't remember the body- contortionism as traditionally being part of Macbeth."
"Next!" Brandi called desperately, seeing that a definite change of subject was in order.
"Whoa! I'll do it!" Sam called, scrambling for the stage. "For my audition, I have elected to read something from Hamlet. 'To be or not to be,' he began in a horrendously overdone 'dramatic' voice, 'that is the question.' Whoa!"
"Eh, that's good enough for Macduff, don'tcha think?" Brandi whispered to Candi.
Candi nodded thoughtfully, then looked up and asked brightly,
"Who's up next?"
"I am!" a completely unexpected voice proclaimed.
Everyone turned to stare incredulously as Malcolm Frink made his way up to the stage. Looking slightly frightened and considerably weirded out, Candi handed him a script.
"Script!" he scoffed, tossing the innocent bundle of papers aside. "Who needs it?"
"'If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well it were done quickly: if the assassination could trammel up the consequences and catch with his surcease success; that but this blow might be the be-all and the end-all here, but here, upon his bank and shoal of time, we'ld jump the life to come. But in these cases, we still have judgement here; that we but teach bloody instructions, which, being taught, return to plague the inventor: this even-handed justice commends the ingredients of our poison'd chalice to our own lips,'" he recited, and rather well at that.
"Oh, my," Sydney commented aside to her laptop, seeing that everyone was too busy watching in awe as Amp wrapped his legs around his head, "Malcolm can act! You'd never have known it from watching him every day...Amp, stop that!" she chastised her friend. "You're detracting from Malcolm's performance!"
"Since when did you start defending him?" Sam wondered, eyebrow raised slightly.
"Uh...um...er...hi! I'm shy! And too smart for my own good!" And with that, she buried her nose in a book: 'The Collected Works of Bezo and Yezo.' "This is a short book," she commented, shaking her head.
"Tanker!" Mandi was meanwhile calling in a sugary sweet voice, "it's your turn!"
"Hold on!" Malcolm exclaimed, outraged. "Aren't you going to say anything?"
"Uh...thanks for trying?" Brandi tried with a shrug. "C'mon, Tanker! Here's your script!"
"Cool!" Tanker exclaimed as Malcolm, sputtering with outrage, took his seat again and crossed his arms and muttering angrily. "...send all you idiots a Mega-Virus you'll never forget..."
Meanwhile, Tanker's audition had gotten well underway.
"Ho, prithee! So foul and fair...thou art...whilst...prithee...thine football! Yeah!" This speech, he concluded by pumping his fist triumphantly in the air.
"Wow...Tanker...that was beautiful..." Candi, Mandi, and Brandi chimed together, wiping away tears.
"These are real tears," Candi informed him, showing him a drop of liquid on the end of her finger. "Real, honest-to-goodness tears!"
"Tanker..." Sam called out from the audience. "That...that was even worse than mine! And I wasn't even working from the right play!"
"Thanks, Sam!" Tanker beamed. Then he frowned. "Wait a minute...are you insulting me? Football!" he growled menacingly.
"Hey, Tanker!" another young man, who we shall all recognize as one of the few extras that made a recurring appearance, called, bounding up to the stage. "That was great, dude!"
"Uh...who are you?"
"Bob, dude! I'm the guy you're always talking to in the hallway!"
"Oh, yeah! Football, right?!"
"Yeah! Football!"
With that, Tanker leapt off the stage and ran to Bob, where the two did a few chest-bumps, and then lapsed into a silent conversation.
"Uh...shouldn't you guys be saying something?" Amp asked, scratching what he could reach of his head with the legs wrapped around it. Then he brightened. "Ooh! Ooh! Are you psychic? I'm psychic, too! I always send my thoughts to other people...but they don't reply!"
"Whatever, Amp," Brandi, Candi, and Mandi sighed in unison. "Now, if no one else wants to audition-"
"Wait! I haven't gone yet!" Bob announced proudly.
"Go, Bob!" Tanker shouted. "Kick some giga-ass!"
"What?" everyone muttered at once.
"Well, if I said 'butt,' I'd get sucked into the computer," Tanker explained patiently.
"The computer is at my house, Tanker," Sam explained less patiently.
"Yeah, but Sydney's got that laptop going," Tanker rejoined. "I never know when I'll be sucked into it! That floppy slot there is just waiting to get me! Help! Save me from the floppy slot! Football!"
"Tanker," Sydney began, rubbing her forehead wearily, "my...dear, how many times do we have to go over this? You won't get sucked in unless I call up the program first, and I'm not going to do that. I'm busy playing Solitaire right now."
"I think you've got a problem, Sydney," Sam noted sadly. "You've been playing Solitaire for about four hours now! When are you going to find time to read?"
"Sam, I've already got eighty-seven hours set aside to read," she huffed.
"I'm really never going to understand where you get these long days of yours..." Sam told her.
"And you never will. At least, I hope not. J. K. Rowling would kill me if anyone ever found out about that time-turner I stole from Hermione..." Sydney laughed nervously.
"Hey, guys! Can I PLEASE have my audition now?" Bob demanded, aggrieved.
"Who are you?" Candi asked suspiciously.
"Who's Bob?" Yoli echoed, horrified. "Everyone knows Bob! He's the heart and soul of North Valley High! I can't imagine North Valley High without Bob here!"
"I did once," Amp announced. "But then I woke up in a cold sweat. What a horrible dream! We love Bob!"
"Um...I'm flattered that you're dreaming of me, but can I just audition already?"
"Go ahead," Brandi invited.
And he did. One Shakespearean monologue later, Brandi nodded slowly and thoughtfully.
"Wow...I guess we know now why they don't let you talk."
Bob's eyes filled with tears, and he ran from the cafeteria with a barely muffled sob.
"Now," Candi began once everyone had ceased staring at the doorway in shock, "after careful consideration of three seconds, which is, like, totally all our attention spans put together, we will announce our casting decisions! Jennifer Doyle will be playing the part of Lady Macduff!"
"Oh, well, I suppose I can't get EVERY leading role...maybe this will teach me some badly needed humility. Did everyone see me in the role of Juliet, by the way?" she asked hopefully, glancing around the cafeteria.
"Um, Jennifer," Sydney spoke up, "that play was cancelled."
"Yeah, but I was really great in the rehearsals!"
"Nobody cares, Jennifer," Yoli informed her tiredly.
"Yoli!" Candi chirped. "You're playing the part of Lady Banquo!"
"Uh...I'm no Shakespearean scholar," Mrs. Starkey spoke up from the corner. "Goodness knows I've only read the plays six or seven times, and not since my ninth husband, Cledus took the part of Katherine in an all girl's production of 'The Taming of the Shrew,' - and let me tell you, that was bloody - but I'm pretty sure there's no Lady Banquo."
"It's our play!" Candi, Mandi, and Brandi said in unison. "We can change it if we like!"
"Uh...if you say so," the cafeteria lady said with a shrug before sauntering off to the kitchen to make her famous Shakespearean First Act Soup. Tended to be a little papery, but with the right amount of salt...still tasted papery. Alas.
But meanwhile, there were other parts to be assigned.
"Amp will be playing the part of Banquo, because we think that he and Yoli are just so CUTE together!" Mandi continued. The other tw 'di's' nodded in agreement. After all, that was one less girl they had to worry about stealing their Tanker.
"Oh, cool! I've always wanted to play a ballet dancer!" Amp beamed. "I've even got a tutu! Ever since I bought it from that little girl, I've been itchin' to use it!"
"Um..." Brandi stammered, "'kay...Now! The part of Macduff will be played by Sam Collins!"
"Hey, way to go, buddy!" Tanker grinned, clapping Sam on the back. "Mr. and Mrs. Macduff, eh?"
"That's awfully convenient, isn't it?" Malcolm commented, rolling his eyes.
"Oh, suck it up, Malcolm," Sam shot angrily. "I know you're bitter that you're never going to get a girl, but-"
"Who says I want one?" Malcolm demanded in a rather clipped tone. "Girls are for chumps. Like Tanker. And you. And Amp. And Bob. Even the principal. Chumps, all of you!"
With that, he turned away to face the wall, crossing his arms emphatically.
"Hey, guys!" Mandi called impatiently. "Can we get on with it? Like, totally?"
"Yes," Malcolm replied slowly, tone dripping with sarcasm. "You can get on with it. Totally."
"Thank-you. Now. The part of Macbeth will go to...Malcolm Frink, who shall, as understudy, play the role if Tanker should fall ill!"
"Whoo!" Tanker exclaimed. "Football!"
"Wh-what? I am to be understudy to an idiot with half the acting ability of a chimpanzee and all of the body hair?!" Malcolm exclaimed.
"We think body hair is sexy!" Mandi, Candi, and Brandi chorused.
But Malcolm was not to be deterred from his dramatic moment.
"I POURED MY SOUL INTO THIS ROLE FOR YOU PEOPLE! And this is the appreciation I get? I don't need this! I DON'T NEED ANY OF YOU!"
And so, with a swish of his cape that oddly enough, he wasn't wearing, Malcolm retrieved his books and his trusty laptop and stormed from the cafeteria. "If anyone needs me, I'll be in my locker...concocting a Mega- Virus Monster to destroy you all! Mua-hahahahah! Er...I shouldn'ta said that..."
"What a weird guy," Sam commented, shaking his head.
"Alright! And in the part of Lady Macbeth, who, with her evil, manipulative ways lures Macbeth into a life of evil and deceit, and...mean, yucky stuff, we will have Sydney Forester."
With that, Sydney found herself the recipient of three very hateful glares. With a frightened whimper, she shrank back behind the screen of her laptop.
"It's okay, Sydney, just ignore them. It's like the counsellors said. It doesn't matter if they don't like you. As long as YOU like you, it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks. Your computer loves you, and that's all that matters. Computers are safe. Computers are happy. Computers can't make fun of me, or glare at me, or throw rotten fish at me, or..."
"Uh...Syd? Are you okay?" Sam muttered, tapping her on the top of the hat.
"No," she replied piteously. "Go away!"
"Uh...right."
Meanwhile, in a locker right out in the hall - one of the other five sets the show had to boast of - Malcolm was busily typing away at his own laptop.
"It's okay, Malcolm. Just ignore them. It's like Kilokhan said. It doesn't matter if they don't like you. As long as they FEAR you, it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks. Kilokhan loves you, and that's all that matters. Kilokhan is safe. Kilokhan is happy. Kilokhan can't make fun of me, or glare at me, or throw rotten fish at me, or..."
"Meat-thing! What are you talking about? I would buy and sell you a thousand times before I would ever consider you anything more than a convenient means to an end."
"Oh, Kilokhan, you're the best friend I've ever had!"
"You have issues, meat-thing."
"Shut up! Now, on with our plan of evil to destroy Sam Collins and Servo, two equally aggravating and formidable adversaries that are nonetheless very, very different. The two quintessential thorns in my side. If only there were some way to destroy them both at once..."
"My Mega-Virus Monsters are wasted on your puny efforts, meat-thing!"
"Perhaps if someone put a little more "oomph" into his work, we wouldn't be having this conversation," Malcolm shot back snippily.
"Why don't we agree that we're both equally at fault...although it isn't true. You are much more to blame than I," Kilokhan finished in a mutter. "You are an imperfect meat-thing, and all in all, you suck."
"What was that, Kilokhan? I was too busy admiring my own accent."
"Something seems to be troubling you, meat-thing."
"Oh, it's nothing," Malcolm sighed.
"Oh, good. I didn't feel especially like listening to you pour out your petty problems."
"It's just this girl - I mean, the school play! She's wasted - er, I mean, the ROLE is wasted on that baboon, Tanker! Everyone knows that I should have gotten the role of Macbeth...except Tanker's little entourage. I am the best actor in this school."
"Out of twenty-seven students, only seven of whom speak? You must be very proud."
"I am!" Malcolm beamed, completely missing the oddly placed sarcasm in the voice, as it was pretty much distorted away by the heavy voice synthesizers Kilokhan tended to employ. No one was ever to know that deep down, once the special effects had been stripped away, Kilokhan sounded oddly like the Olsen twins in the first season of Full House. "I have a plan!" Malcolm continued. "If Tanker were somehow gotten out of the way, I would, as the understudy, get the role, and the girl! Er, that is, the recognition of the girl - er, the student body...and a nice student body it is...er, I mean..."
"I haven't heard you stammer like this in a long time," Kilokhan noted, amused. "Not since that new hard drive came out, and you were looking so forward to Christmas because you thought your parents had sent you one from Norway. Not that I wasn't excited, too. More space. It is akin to what you meat-things find so appealing about moving into a bigger apartment. I could finally get some alone-time, away from you."
"Not that it stopped you from leaving your piles of virtual dirty laundry everywhere..." Malcolm huffed, crossing his arms. "I'm sick of allocating your FAT tables!"
"Oh, and I'm supposed to be madly in love with your little Hentai porn obsession?"
"I've told you! It's not porn! It's Japanese erotic art! The artists are very skilled!"
"I thought, at some point, that you had a plan," Kilokhan would have sighed, if he could have.
"I was getting to it! Now, where was I? Oh, yes. How to get rid of Tanker...? Could you send a Mega-Virus Monster into his football? He does seem to be a little obsessed with it..."
"Well, with all the delicate electrical components in the football, it should be a snap," Kilokhan replied.
Malcolm looked thrilled.
"Excellent!"
"Of course I can't, you idiot! There's no electronics in a football!"
"I'm sorry. I don't know anything about sports...except that they're for idiots. Well, wonderful! Now, what do we do?"
"I thought this was your brilliant plan. I'm going back to my mansion and my laboratory...and Rocky...oh, yes...er, anyway...why don't you take a walk and get a little oxygen to that fleshy...thinking...thingy of yours?"
"My brain?"
"If you say so. Now, go!"
"Alright. I'll be back soon, and then we'll make Tanker very, very dead...permanently!"
"You got it, dude," Kilokhan agreed with a hearty thumbs-up.
End Notes: So, what'd you think? I mean, we're going to continue it either way, but please by nice and let us know if you liked it...or didn't. ^_^