Macbeth's Halloween
This is strange. There is no defined time this takes place in, because in no real time period would you find Macbeth, cattle raids, AND anti-psychotics. But hell, it's Halloween isn't it?
And in case I have to tell you, I don't own Macbeth. Or any of the other plays.
Mist and rain swirled around through the dark as a few drunken teenagers still wandered in the Highlands. Everybody sober or not evil was in bed asleep like Sane people, whether they really were sane or not, because there are nasty things that roam Scotland on Halloween night. One of them happened to be named Macbeth.
"Let 'em ha'e it!" cried one kilted hooligan, barely old enough to ride on a cattle raid, as his cohort hurled an egg at a spooky old castle. The projectile tumbled up towards the wall encrusted with the now-empty nests of martins and past the severed heads mounted on pikes, to burst against the battlements. Both the boys crowed in triumph.
"Wi' ye knack tha' off or dae A ha'e ta came oot thar' and whack yuir bluidy heads off?!" sombody roared from a dark doorway. The vandals fled, realizing now that they'd picked the thane's castle to terrorize. " A'd better the Hell no' see ayther o' ye agin, d'ye hear me?! Or A'll skin the both 'o ye alive!" With that Macbeth withdrew again, slamming the door behind him.
"Bluidy bairns, A'll kill the both o' thim," the miserable thane muttered, "Cut thir fucking heads off and-"
"Macbeth, " his wife Gruoch groaned, " Wi' ye juist gae ta sleep? Let thim egg th' hoose. The martins willnae mind, A'm sure."
" A dunnae want tae. A cannae sleep anywa'. "
" Well, A cannae sleep ayther wi' you shoutin' at everything tha' maves. Will ye jist keep it doun?"
"Ay, A will. That's the first damn thing A've yelled at at a' tonicht. "
"Gid nicht, then, Macbeth." She kissed him goodnight before she climbed the stairs to their bedroom. For a moment, he forgot about the kids and almost followed her to bed, but only for a moment.
" Bluidy bastards..." he murmured to himself as he stalked angrily into the next room. He sat down at the long table. The same table, he remembered, where Duncan ate his last meal and where Banquo's ghost nearly scared the hell out of him, and and where he now took up the jar of whiskey he'd left there. He liked to pretend that the alcohol kept his hallucinations at bay, although in reality it made things worse and he knew it. Actually, he had anipsychotics, antidepressants, and sleeping pills, all of which he refused to take, in three little jars in his sporran, but he preferred to take his chances with the whiskey.
"Hallo, Macbeth!" A hoarse voice croaked.
"Gid nicht, Macbeth!" A softer voice crooned.
"Happy Halloween, Macbeth!" A third hissed creepily.
The poor thane shook his head. "Och na, " Macbeth growled, "Thar's na wa' A've had tha' much ta drink alridy." He took long swallow of whiskey. "Well, what dae you three want?" he asked grumpily, realising that the three witches weren't going away.
"We're thrawing a Halloween party," the three bearded hags responded in unison. "Here."
Macbeth was about to start yelling when a strange voice surprised him. " Yo, Mac! " somebody shouted right behind him. He leapt out of his chair. The voice belonged to a strange being floating about two feet in the air with green skin, white hair, and pointed ears. " Great place. "
"Puck!" the first witch cackled, "It's sae gid you cad mak' it!"
"Of course it is, my lovely bearded ladies," the Fey said, kissing her on the hand. He disapeared, and before Macbeth could wonder where to, Puck was behind him again, mussing up his hair the way you would do to a little kid. If you had a little kid, he thought glumly. "This must be that Thane you were telling me about. Fun to be had with these three, eh, Mac?" the feary asked, elbowing him in the ribs.
"Och, na, Macbeth cadnae dae that sairt o' thing," the second witch replied. Macbeth barely remembered to be insulted through the horror of realising what Puck meant by "fun".
A knock came at the door, but Macbeth didn't move to answer it. Instead he stood rooted at the spot, staring in awe at his unexpected guests. " Well, are ye gang tae answer it, Mac?" The third witch asked, " Came an, Open lacks, wha e'er knacks, an' a' that." He scrambled to the door, only to have it fly open on it's own and knock him against the wall.
"Did ye no' hear me? " the witch cackled, " I jist said it wad open!" A strange party stepped in through the door as they four laughed at him.
The first in was a old man in a great huff. " I suppose I can't have my knights here, either! " he screamed as he stormed past his reluctant host, " I don't see why no one will take them, it's rediculous! Ingrates, all of you!" fi A tall Moor followed him, rubbing his forehead and muttering something about a "damn handkerchief". A hunchback limped in, grinning evilly. He took one look at Macbeth and laughed. Two teenagers followed, hand in hand and mouth to mouth, pausing their kissing briefly to wish the Thane a good evening. A sulky looking sixteen year old had to be dragged in by an ecstatic Englishman wearing a thing that reminded Macbeth of one of those collars they put on dogs to keep them from eating themselves. "Don't worry, Hamlet," he said to the boy, who was wearing all black and looked like he was about to cry, "You'll have a great time." The door slammed shut by itself, nearly pinching Macbeth's fingers off, and the Englishman, noticing him for the first time, launched at him and caught him in a crushing bear-hug. "Macbeth!" he cried joyfully, "I feel like I have known thee already! I'm so glad to thee at last!" Hamlet seemed to want to run while the man was destracted, but he hesitated for just a moment too long, and they were both caught by the strange man who led them both by the hand toward the rest of the party.
"Shakespeare!" the Wierd Sisters cried in unison. The Englishmen released them and rushed to the witches, meeting them in a rather disturbing group-hug.
"Thou look'st like nothing on this Earth, or any imaginable sphere above't!" Shakespeare told them.
"Huh?" Macbeth said aloud.
"Beats me," Hamlet replied in a Danish accent.
Macbeth scanned the group in disbelief. " A think A need a drink. D'ye want anything?"
"No thanks, " Hamlet said, "My uncle drinks a lot and I really don't want to be like him. He's a murderer, you know. I have to kill him to get revenge for my father who he killed, but I still have to get around to it. But if anyone asks, I'm crazy, okay?"
"Ay then," he said, backing away. He edged towards the table where left his whiskey, but before he got there he bumped into the old man.
" Watch where you're going, you young fiend!" he screamed in an English accent, " Just because I'm not the king anymore doesn't mean you hooligans can walk all over me! What, No respect at all for mad old Lear?!"
"A'm very sarry, gid sir," He muttered. This Lear was like Duncan drunk before the rebellion, only nastier. "A didnae even realize you were poor auld Lear at a'."
"Damn straight you didn't, you beast, you rascal, you creature from hell! Nobody knows anything, and nobody goes to the trouble to find out, or to respect their elders! There's no respect at all these days! Why, when I was younger, I would never have just plowed into a man of twice my years, you ingrate! There isn't a thing you'd have if it wasn't for your father, d'you hear me! Not this castle, or your positon, whatever petty station it is, not your life, not the clothes on your back if wasn't for your father, the poor man, to be cursed with such a rude, cruel, vicious, ingrateful son as you, you snake! There's not a father out there but he's cheated by some vile, treacherous child! It drives them all insane! It's a parents fate to wander abandoned at the mercy of nature, driven mad by the hideous cruelty of his own kin! I wish you were a father, that you'd suffer the same, you villain!"
" Sae wad A," Macbeth grumbled under his breath.
"What's that? Speak up, devil! Your father must be ashamed of you, if he hasn't already escaped this world of evil Children," Lear commanded.
Macbeth stood up straight, letting his experience in the army serve him again, and answered as if to a drill sargeant, " Sarry am A. That's a' A said, sir. Please, forgive me, my wits are scattered same alridy, wi'oot bairns. I meant na harm."
"Hmf, that's better, rogue," Lear growled, moving off. "Lads, today. God help your father!"
Macbeth finally got to his whiskey to find the hunchback helping himself. He nodded politely, and the stranger returned the gesture.
" Didn't do too bad, all things considered, Glamis," he said. The crippled eyed him through a perpetual squint the way you inspect a hound you're thinking of buying. Or maybe more like a hound pup you're thinking of drowning. " It was obviously an amatuer's work, but I've got to hand it to you for sheer brutality."
"Eh?"
" I'm sorry, I've never introduced myself. Richard III, Duke of Gloucester. And a fellow murderer. It's just so easy to kill your way to the throne, isn't it? It's a wonder everybody doesn't do it."
Macbeth poured himself a shot of whiskey and drained it. " Hooch, aye. Sure it is."
Richard reached out a withered, claw-like hand and clapped the thane on the back. "Don't worry, there, Glamis. We can't all be naturals. You just need a little practice, that's all. I'd say you've got real potential!"
" Och, great." Richard laughed evilly and limped away.
Macbeth took a seat at the table and watched the guests. Puck and the Wierd Sisters were performing a somewhat frightening round, wirling eerily in circles about each other. The young couple had stopped trying to suck each others' faces off for long enough to find seats of their own, only to resume all of two minutes later. He looked the other way.
" Wonder how long he has 'till she starts cheating on him, " a low voice asked beside him. He turned to find that the Moor had taken a seat next to him.
"At this rate, it'll be a hell o' a while," Macbeth replied. "They've been at it since they go' in. "
"Won't last. All women are whores, you know. Even when they're married, they'll go out and fuck somebody else. They're never really ours."
"Richt. If ye say sae, man."
"Othello the Cuckold, at your service." He put out his hand.
"Macbeth the murderer, at yours." He shook Othello's hand. Suddenly, the Moor stopped and squeezed his hand hard, crushing his fingers together.
"You married, Mac?"
He hesitated, wondering if he should answer or not. "Ay."
"Might as well start calling yourself Macbeth the cuckold, then. Doesn't matter how sweet and innocent she seems, they're all looking for a good lay."
"Trust me, my wife isnae sae innacent. No' at a'."
"Exactly," Othello answered darkly.
Macbeth jumped as a hand touched his shoulder. Shakespeare, it seemed, had been drinking a good deal. His hand slid across the startled thane's chest and the playwrite's chin took its' perch on his shoulder. "I love thee so, Macbeth," he murmured happily.
"Uh, Shakespeare, A think maybe ye shad ha'e a seat," Macbeth told him, prying him off and pushing him into the next chair. It did little good. The drunken poet laid his hand clumsily on his kilt, trying to lift the fraying edge. Macbeth grabbed his wrist and pushed his hand away. "Probably a seat on the ither side o' the table." He pulled the bard up and led him around the end of the table to the other side, near where the teens- Romeo and Juliet from hurried whispers between kisses- were still making out. Maybe that would distract him for a while.
"Whose up for a really wierd orgie!" Puck shouted, hovering in mid-air above the three witches. Everybody froze. Lear cut off his lecture in the middle of another rant about ingrateful children, this one addressed to Richard III. Romeo and Juliet stoped kissing and looked up. Othello glared as though this proved his point. Shakespeare looked interested to find out what would happen next.
Macbeth was furious. Randomly deciding to throw a party in his house with witches, fearies, revenge-seekers, evil hunchbacks, cuckolds, lunatic old men, and face-sucking teenage lovers was one thing. Deciding to fuck in the middle of his hall was crossing the line. Especially one where a really confused- if not just plain homosexual- playwrite was trying to hit on him. That was not how Macbeth was going to spend his Halloween night.
"EVERY SINGLE GOD-DAMNED ANE O' YE GET THE HELL OOT O' MY HOOSE!" he roared. "PARTY'S AVER, GAE ON AN' FUCKING GET OOT, RICHT NOO OR A SWEAR A'LL FUCKING KILL YOU A' AND PIT YIR BLUIDY HEADS ON STICKS ON MY GO' DAMNED WA'! GET OOT, NOO, THE LOT O' YE!"
He had barely said this when Puck and the Wierd Sisters vanished into thin air, taking with them all their guests and every sign that they'd been there. Macbeth glared around at the empty room, ready to butcher the first moving thing he saw. But nothing moved.
Until Gruoch came down from her bedroom. "Macbeth!" she scolded him. "Didnae A tell ye ta keep it doun? Wha the hell are ye yelling at doun here? Cannae a lady get any sleep at a'?"
"But Gruoch, there was a party, and the witches brought wierd people and a fearie wanted to have an orgie and an English poet wearing ane o' thase collars for dags wha try ta eat themselves was-"
"Gid God, you're a lunatic. If it wasnae twa in the mairning this wad be funny as a' hell. But it is twa in the mairning. Will ye jist tak' yer damn pills and came ta bed?" With that, she turned and marched back up stairs to their bedroom.
Macbeth reluctantly reached into his sporran for the anti-psychotics, then hesitated. He didn't take them, or anything else he was supposed to be on. Instead, he chugged the rest of the whiskey and followed Gruoch to bed.
THE END
Hooch aye is like a sarcastic "yeah, uh-huh."
This is strange. There is no defined time this takes place in, because in no real time period would you find Macbeth, cattle raids, AND anti-psychotics. But hell, it's Halloween isn't it?
And in case I have to tell you, I don't own Macbeth. Or any of the other plays.
Mist and rain swirled around through the dark as a few drunken teenagers still wandered in the Highlands. Everybody sober or not evil was in bed asleep like Sane people, whether they really were sane or not, because there are nasty things that roam Scotland on Halloween night. One of them happened to be named Macbeth.
"Let 'em ha'e it!" cried one kilted hooligan, barely old enough to ride on a cattle raid, as his cohort hurled an egg at a spooky old castle. The projectile tumbled up towards the wall encrusted with the now-empty nests of martins and past the severed heads mounted on pikes, to burst against the battlements. Both the boys crowed in triumph.
"Wi' ye knack tha' off or dae A ha'e ta came oot thar' and whack yuir bluidy heads off?!" sombody roared from a dark doorway. The vandals fled, realizing now that they'd picked the thane's castle to terrorize. " A'd better the Hell no' see ayther o' ye agin, d'ye hear me?! Or A'll skin the both 'o ye alive!" With that Macbeth withdrew again, slamming the door behind him.
"Bluidy bairns, A'll kill the both o' thim," the miserable thane muttered, "Cut thir fucking heads off and-"
"Macbeth, " his wife Gruoch groaned, " Wi' ye juist gae ta sleep? Let thim egg th' hoose. The martins willnae mind, A'm sure."
" A dunnae want tae. A cannae sleep anywa'. "
" Well, A cannae sleep ayther wi' you shoutin' at everything tha' maves. Will ye jist keep it doun?"
"Ay, A will. That's the first damn thing A've yelled at at a' tonicht. "
"Gid nicht, then, Macbeth." She kissed him goodnight before she climbed the stairs to their bedroom. For a moment, he forgot about the kids and almost followed her to bed, but only for a moment.
" Bluidy bastards..." he murmured to himself as he stalked angrily into the next room. He sat down at the long table. The same table, he remembered, where Duncan ate his last meal and where Banquo's ghost nearly scared the hell out of him, and and where he now took up the jar of whiskey he'd left there. He liked to pretend that the alcohol kept his hallucinations at bay, although in reality it made things worse and he knew it. Actually, he had anipsychotics, antidepressants, and sleeping pills, all of which he refused to take, in three little jars in his sporran, but he preferred to take his chances with the whiskey.
"Hallo, Macbeth!" A hoarse voice croaked.
"Gid nicht, Macbeth!" A softer voice crooned.
"Happy Halloween, Macbeth!" A third hissed creepily.
The poor thane shook his head. "Och na, " Macbeth growled, "Thar's na wa' A've had tha' much ta drink alridy." He took long swallow of whiskey. "Well, what dae you three want?" he asked grumpily, realising that the three witches weren't going away.
"We're thrawing a Halloween party," the three bearded hags responded in unison. "Here."
Macbeth was about to start yelling when a strange voice surprised him. " Yo, Mac! " somebody shouted right behind him. He leapt out of his chair. The voice belonged to a strange being floating about two feet in the air with green skin, white hair, and pointed ears. " Great place. "
"Puck!" the first witch cackled, "It's sae gid you cad mak' it!"
"Of course it is, my lovely bearded ladies," the Fey said, kissing her on the hand. He disapeared, and before Macbeth could wonder where to, Puck was behind him again, mussing up his hair the way you would do to a little kid. If you had a little kid, he thought glumly. "This must be that Thane you were telling me about. Fun to be had with these three, eh, Mac?" the feary asked, elbowing him in the ribs.
"Och, na, Macbeth cadnae dae that sairt o' thing," the second witch replied. Macbeth barely remembered to be insulted through the horror of realising what Puck meant by "fun".
A knock came at the door, but Macbeth didn't move to answer it. Instead he stood rooted at the spot, staring in awe at his unexpected guests. " Well, are ye gang tae answer it, Mac?" The third witch asked, " Came an, Open lacks, wha e'er knacks, an' a' that." He scrambled to the door, only to have it fly open on it's own and knock him against the wall.
"Did ye no' hear me? " the witch cackled, " I jist said it wad open!" A strange party stepped in through the door as they four laughed at him.
The first in was a old man in a great huff. " I suppose I can't have my knights here, either! " he screamed as he stormed past his reluctant host, " I don't see why no one will take them, it's rediculous! Ingrates, all of you!" fi A tall Moor followed him, rubbing his forehead and muttering something about a "damn handkerchief". A hunchback limped in, grinning evilly. He took one look at Macbeth and laughed. Two teenagers followed, hand in hand and mouth to mouth, pausing their kissing briefly to wish the Thane a good evening. A sulky looking sixteen year old had to be dragged in by an ecstatic Englishman wearing a thing that reminded Macbeth of one of those collars they put on dogs to keep them from eating themselves. "Don't worry, Hamlet," he said to the boy, who was wearing all black and looked like he was about to cry, "You'll have a great time." The door slammed shut by itself, nearly pinching Macbeth's fingers off, and the Englishman, noticing him for the first time, launched at him and caught him in a crushing bear-hug. "Macbeth!" he cried joyfully, "I feel like I have known thee already! I'm so glad to thee at last!" Hamlet seemed to want to run while the man was destracted, but he hesitated for just a moment too long, and they were both caught by the strange man who led them both by the hand toward the rest of the party.
"Shakespeare!" the Wierd Sisters cried in unison. The Englishmen released them and rushed to the witches, meeting them in a rather disturbing group-hug.
"Thou look'st like nothing on this Earth, or any imaginable sphere above't!" Shakespeare told them.
"Huh?" Macbeth said aloud.
"Beats me," Hamlet replied in a Danish accent.
Macbeth scanned the group in disbelief. " A think A need a drink. D'ye want anything?"
"No thanks, " Hamlet said, "My uncle drinks a lot and I really don't want to be like him. He's a murderer, you know. I have to kill him to get revenge for my father who he killed, but I still have to get around to it. But if anyone asks, I'm crazy, okay?"
"Ay then," he said, backing away. He edged towards the table where left his whiskey, but before he got there he bumped into the old man.
" Watch where you're going, you young fiend!" he screamed in an English accent, " Just because I'm not the king anymore doesn't mean you hooligans can walk all over me! What, No respect at all for mad old Lear?!"
"A'm very sarry, gid sir," He muttered. This Lear was like Duncan drunk before the rebellion, only nastier. "A didnae even realize you were poor auld Lear at a'."
"Damn straight you didn't, you beast, you rascal, you creature from hell! Nobody knows anything, and nobody goes to the trouble to find out, or to respect their elders! There's no respect at all these days! Why, when I was younger, I would never have just plowed into a man of twice my years, you ingrate! There isn't a thing you'd have if it wasn't for your father, d'you hear me! Not this castle, or your positon, whatever petty station it is, not your life, not the clothes on your back if wasn't for your father, the poor man, to be cursed with such a rude, cruel, vicious, ingrateful son as you, you snake! There's not a father out there but he's cheated by some vile, treacherous child! It drives them all insane! It's a parents fate to wander abandoned at the mercy of nature, driven mad by the hideous cruelty of his own kin! I wish you were a father, that you'd suffer the same, you villain!"
" Sae wad A," Macbeth grumbled under his breath.
"What's that? Speak up, devil! Your father must be ashamed of you, if he hasn't already escaped this world of evil Children," Lear commanded.
Macbeth stood up straight, letting his experience in the army serve him again, and answered as if to a drill sargeant, " Sarry am A. That's a' A said, sir. Please, forgive me, my wits are scattered same alridy, wi'oot bairns. I meant na harm."
"Hmf, that's better, rogue," Lear growled, moving off. "Lads, today. God help your father!"
Macbeth finally got to his whiskey to find the hunchback helping himself. He nodded politely, and the stranger returned the gesture.
" Didn't do too bad, all things considered, Glamis," he said. The crippled eyed him through a perpetual squint the way you inspect a hound you're thinking of buying. Or maybe more like a hound pup you're thinking of drowning. " It was obviously an amatuer's work, but I've got to hand it to you for sheer brutality."
"Eh?"
" I'm sorry, I've never introduced myself. Richard III, Duke of Gloucester. And a fellow murderer. It's just so easy to kill your way to the throne, isn't it? It's a wonder everybody doesn't do it."
Macbeth poured himself a shot of whiskey and drained it. " Hooch, aye. Sure it is."
Richard reached out a withered, claw-like hand and clapped the thane on the back. "Don't worry, there, Glamis. We can't all be naturals. You just need a little practice, that's all. I'd say you've got real potential!"
" Och, great." Richard laughed evilly and limped away.
Macbeth took a seat at the table and watched the guests. Puck and the Wierd Sisters were performing a somewhat frightening round, wirling eerily in circles about each other. The young couple had stopped trying to suck each others' faces off for long enough to find seats of their own, only to resume all of two minutes later. He looked the other way.
" Wonder how long he has 'till she starts cheating on him, " a low voice asked beside him. He turned to find that the Moor had taken a seat next to him.
"At this rate, it'll be a hell o' a while," Macbeth replied. "They've been at it since they go' in. "
"Won't last. All women are whores, you know. Even when they're married, they'll go out and fuck somebody else. They're never really ours."
"Richt. If ye say sae, man."
"Othello the Cuckold, at your service." He put out his hand.
"Macbeth the murderer, at yours." He shook Othello's hand. Suddenly, the Moor stopped and squeezed his hand hard, crushing his fingers together.
"You married, Mac?"
He hesitated, wondering if he should answer or not. "Ay."
"Might as well start calling yourself Macbeth the cuckold, then. Doesn't matter how sweet and innocent she seems, they're all looking for a good lay."
"Trust me, my wife isnae sae innacent. No' at a'."
"Exactly," Othello answered darkly.
Macbeth jumped as a hand touched his shoulder. Shakespeare, it seemed, had been drinking a good deal. His hand slid across the startled thane's chest and the playwrite's chin took its' perch on his shoulder. "I love thee so, Macbeth," he murmured happily.
"Uh, Shakespeare, A think maybe ye shad ha'e a seat," Macbeth told him, prying him off and pushing him into the next chair. It did little good. The drunken poet laid his hand clumsily on his kilt, trying to lift the fraying edge. Macbeth grabbed his wrist and pushed his hand away. "Probably a seat on the ither side o' the table." He pulled the bard up and led him around the end of the table to the other side, near where the teens- Romeo and Juliet from hurried whispers between kisses- were still making out. Maybe that would distract him for a while.
"Whose up for a really wierd orgie!" Puck shouted, hovering in mid-air above the three witches. Everybody froze. Lear cut off his lecture in the middle of another rant about ingrateful children, this one addressed to Richard III. Romeo and Juliet stoped kissing and looked up. Othello glared as though this proved his point. Shakespeare looked interested to find out what would happen next.
Macbeth was furious. Randomly deciding to throw a party in his house with witches, fearies, revenge-seekers, evil hunchbacks, cuckolds, lunatic old men, and face-sucking teenage lovers was one thing. Deciding to fuck in the middle of his hall was crossing the line. Especially one where a really confused- if not just plain homosexual- playwrite was trying to hit on him. That was not how Macbeth was going to spend his Halloween night.
"EVERY SINGLE GOD-DAMNED ANE O' YE GET THE HELL OOT O' MY HOOSE!" he roared. "PARTY'S AVER, GAE ON AN' FUCKING GET OOT, RICHT NOO OR A SWEAR A'LL FUCKING KILL YOU A' AND PIT YIR BLUIDY HEADS ON STICKS ON MY GO' DAMNED WA'! GET OOT, NOO, THE LOT O' YE!"
He had barely said this when Puck and the Wierd Sisters vanished into thin air, taking with them all their guests and every sign that they'd been there. Macbeth glared around at the empty room, ready to butcher the first moving thing he saw. But nothing moved.
Until Gruoch came down from her bedroom. "Macbeth!" she scolded him. "Didnae A tell ye ta keep it doun? Wha the hell are ye yelling at doun here? Cannae a lady get any sleep at a'?"
"But Gruoch, there was a party, and the witches brought wierd people and a fearie wanted to have an orgie and an English poet wearing ane o' thase collars for dags wha try ta eat themselves was-"
"Gid God, you're a lunatic. If it wasnae twa in the mairning this wad be funny as a' hell. But it is twa in the mairning. Will ye jist tak' yer damn pills and came ta bed?" With that, she turned and marched back up stairs to their bedroom.
Macbeth reluctantly reached into his sporran for the anti-psychotics, then hesitated. He didn't take them, or anything else he was supposed to be on. Instead, he chugged the rest of the whiskey and followed Gruoch to bed.
THE END
Hooch aye is like a sarcastic "yeah, uh-huh."