Disclaimer: I do not own Romeo and Juliet, nor do I own any of the characters appearing in
this scene.
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Chapter Seven
Act Two
Prologue
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CHORUS: Daria and Quinn
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Enter Daria and Quinn
"Hey Daria, where are all these stage directions coming from?"
Quinn surveyed the plothole doubtfully. It looked like a normal room, sort of, but it was obviously far from normal. Somehow, it had the power to keep her and her wierd sister here until this stupid play was finished.
"Huh," Daria replied, her nose buried in a copy of "The Complete Works of William
Shakespeare".
"Daria! In case you haven't noticed, we're trapped in this, wierd, plothole, thing! It's not doing much for my pores, you know!"
"In case you haven't noticed, I don't give a damn," Daria said emotionlessly, her eyes never leaving the pages in front of her. "Look, we're obviously going to be stuck here until this play is done, so we may as well make the most of the time we have."
"Well what should I do?"
"You could try catching up on all that homework you missed."
"What?!" Quinn demanded, enraged. "Wha-but I- I-"
"You are missing out on an awful lot of homework," Daria continued. "And part of the function of this plothole is that it sends us our homework at the end of the day. Also, interestingly enough, all of our clothes seem to be here, although the author would like me to say that she doesn't see how that matters, since we always seem to be wearing the same thing."
Quinn rolled her eyes, deciding to let this one slip. This whole plothole thing wasn't really up her alley. Too much thinking. Leave that to the brains... Like Daria.
"Fine. I'll go," She snapped, heading for the stairs that conveniently appeared in front of her. "But I hope you realize that you're making me do my own homework."
Daria watched her until she disappeared behind a slamming door, that must lead to their room. "I didn't know we had a room," She commented. "Of course, I guess the author needed somewhere to put all of our clothes, and this conveniently placed copy of the complete works of William Shakespeare." She paused for a moment, then shrugged, as if to say, "Happens all the time."
She cleared her throat and turned to face where she imagined the readers must be.
"Now old desire doth in his death-bed lie,
And young affection gapes to be his heir;
That fair for which love groan'd for and would die,
With tender Juliet match'd, is now not fair.
Now Romeo is beloved and loves again,
Alike betwitched by the charm of looks,
But to his foe supposed he must complain,
And she steal love's sweet bait from fearful hooks:
Being held a foe, he may not have access
To breathe such vows as lovers use to swear;
And she as much in love, her means much less
To meet her new-beloved any where:
But passion lends them power, time means, to meet
Tempering extremities with extreme sweet."
Daria rose, bowed, and watched with interest as the room began to experience a 'black-out' such as the kind you might expect to see in a theatre.