Reminder on the Roles:
Hamlet—Julius ; Claudius—Blood ; Ophelia—Alice ; Horatio—Boris ; Laertes—Ace ; Polonius—Elliot ; Rosencrantz and Guildenstern—Twins ; Gertrude—Vivaldi ;
Player—Gowland ; Ghost—Nightmare ; Fortinbras—Gray ; Other—Pierce and Faceless ; Cheering Section/?—Peter
Ch. 8 Act 1, Part 1
The lights on the audience lowered and the hubbub and idle chatter puttered down to nothing. A spotlight clicked on, revealing the ringmaster in full regalia, hands behind his back, legs together, and grinning rather malevolently at the crowd.
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the premiere and only performance of the Wonderland Theatre Company's rendition of Shakespeare's Hamlet. We kindly ask that all firearms are put on safety, swords and other knife-like weapons placed into their proper containers and to leave all explosives, incendiary devices and anything else resembling a weapon at the front gate. If you have crying children, please take them outside during the performance. Otherwise do not get up during the performance. Snacks and other concessions will be sold during intermission. Failure to comply with the following will land the perpetrator a week in my lovely counterpart's prison, so we ask that we all be on our best behavior."
Joker paused a moment, letting the loosely-veiled threat sink in before continuing in an uncharacteristically cheery voice, "We hope you will enjoy the show!"
Light, awkward applause followed Joker as he left the stage. He ran into Alice immediately as he exited stage left and shrugged dismissively as she glared at him, arms crossed, foot tapping.
"What? I delivered all the main points that we covered. You didn't say I couldn't have fun with it when I did."
Alice sighed and watched him go past, somewhat glad the ringmaster hadn't lingered. She watched Nightmare, Pierce, Boris and two faceless take their places at center stage, in front of a gate prop, and she gave the cue to open the curtain. It was finally starting.
Pierce (Marcellus): It is a dark day in Denmark.
Faceless 1: Sure is. Bloody cold too. [Looks to Marcellus and Horatio] You here to switch guard duty?
[Marcellus nods, faceless 1 and 2 walk out]
Boris (Horatio): Now you told me that you and some of the other guards have been seeing a…ghost, was it?
M: Yes. The past two nights, at midnight, he comes, the spittin' image of the late king and Prince Hamlet's father.
Ho: No kidding.
M: I'm being serious here, you know.
Ho: Yes, seriously insane. I think the cold's finally gotten to your head.
[Nightmare (Ghost) enters. M sees him, Ho does not.]
M: Really? [points] What do you call that then?
Ho: [turns, squeaks, runs behind M] T-t-t-that's….
M: Yup. That is a ghost. Looks kinda familiar, doesn't he?
Ho: Now that you mention it…[shakes head] Nope, don't really see it.
M: What, the ghost? You just—
Ho: No, you damn fool, the resemblance. I mean…the eye patch really doesn't help.
M: And how many monarchs do you know that wear a bloody eye patch?
Ho: [shrugs, stops hiding] Good point. Let's tell Hamlet.
M: Why?
Ho: How often does someone's father come back from the dead? He should at least know. He might want to say 'hi', or something. 'Long time no see.' 'I've missed you, how is the afterlife working out?'
M: You are awfully sacrilegious.
Ho: Modern times, my friend, modern times. I'm getting Hammy. See ya later. [Exits]
M: See you. [To Ghost] Want a cup of tea or something?
G: [Shakes head]
M: A shot of brandy? Something to warm ya up?
G: [Considers, nods, walks forward to receive alcohol]
[Scene ends, both exit stage]
[Scene opens out to ballroom, where everyone except Pierce and Boris are standing, Blood and Vivaldi center-stage, arm in arm, with crowns on their heads. Julius stands to the side in all black, looking rather forlorn and bitter. Basically, the same as always.]
Blood (Claudius): Hello everyone, and thank you for coming! It's been a lovely coronation, a beautiful wedding, and now, the part you've all been waiting for—reception is in the east ballroom!
[Crowd of nobles cheer]
Hamlet: [sarcastically] Oh, yippee.
Gertrude: Oh, dear, you need to get past this. It's already been a month. I mean, look at me! Instead of wallowing in my grief I have found a new happiness in my life. You should do the same. [Turns to Claudius] Come dear; let's not keep our guests waiting.
C: In a moment. [Pecks Gertrude on the cheek, Gertrude leaves] My nephew—my son—your mother is right. Do not wallow in your sadness. You are alive, you should enjoy it. As we all know too well, life is brief.
Ha: Go enjoy the reception. You shouldn't keep all those drunkards* waiting.
C: [patient sigh] I understand. Later, then. [leaves]
Ha: [looks at crowd] To be fair, we do know how to party 'round here. But a month? A MONTH? Is it completely unreasonable to still be sad at this point? Am I the only one who really cared at all? [Ends unsatisfactorily, angrily:] A month.
[Horatio walks into empty ballroom, looks around]
Ho: Hey Hamlet. Who are you talking to?
Ha: The fourth wall. How are you?
Ho: I'm alright. Better than you, I'd guess. I was just at the reception. Why don't you come back with me, we both can get royally bashed and have morning mysteries to solve tomorrow while we're hung over?
Ha: Not in the mood.
Ho: I understand. [Puts arm around Hamlet] And while this isn't healthy or rational, I have some news for you.
Ha: What?
Ho: Well, the other night Marcellus and I—
Ha: What's the point?
Ho: Don't bite my head off. Sheesh.
Ha: Sorry. Continue.
Ho: We may have seen your father's ghost.
Ha: [stares blankly] You're hilarious. And a sicko.
Ho: I'm not joking. Come with me tonight and you'll see.
Ha: I'm hiding the absinthe from now on.
Ho: Hamlet, you're my friend, so I'm totally free to say this: stop being an over-emotional asshole and just do it. Alright?
Ha: Alright, alright, I'll come.
[Scene ends]
[Scene opens in front of gates. Horatio and Hamlet stand in front, waiting.]
Ha: This illusion of yours better show up soon before I freeze to death.
Ho: How dare you attack my integrity! Here I am, your good friend! You know me—
Ha: Yes, I do, and I still think that this is the result of one too many shots and a sick imagination.
[Ghost appears]
Ho: My sick imagination just arrived.
Ha: [stares, shocked] …Dad? [ghost nods] Dad? Is it really…?
Ho: I'm sure you want a moment. I'll see you later. [leaves]
Ha: So…Dad…how are you?
Gh: I'm dead. Nothing really changes after that.
Ha: Oh, you can talk.
Gh: Yes, but I don't have much time, so I'll get straight to it. I was murdered.
Ha: [stunned] Murdered? [Rage] By who?
Gh: That's 'whom'.
Ha: You're dead, why do you care? Who murdered you?
Gh: My brother, who now sits on my throne.
Ha: Wait…Uncle Claudius?
Gh: He poisoned me while I was resting in the garden. Put a few drops in my ear, and soon after…[slides finger across throat]
Ha: That bastard! I'll kill him!
Gh: Yes, please, go right ahead. And make sure that when the revenge is complete everyone knows what a scumbag he is.
Ha: Wait…does Mom…?
Gh: [shakes head] Your mother doesn't know. All she did was remarry.
Ha: I swear I will avenge you.
Gh: I'm glad. Well, here comes the dawn. I have to go back to Purgatory now. Good luck. I love you, son.
Ha: I love you too, Dad.
[scene ends]
[Scene opens in gardens where Ophelia, Laertes and Polonius stand. A piece of luggage is in Laertes' hand.]
P: You ready to set off?
L: All set.
P: Now, before you go, let me give you some advice.
L: C'mon, dad, I really want to go…
P: Son, hear me out first. Understood? Or it's the Box.
L: [shudders] Yes, sir.
P: Don't get into unnecessary fights. Ask for directions. Dress well. If you sleep with them, don't give them your real name. Always pay your debts in time. And lastly, remember to write.
L: Alright, Dad. [They hug. Cue 'aw'.] I'll miss you. [turns to Ophelia] You take care of yourself, sis.
O: Will do. Don't just screw around while you're in Paris, okay?
L: [Innocent smile] What ever are you talking about? I'm studying, remember?
O: Oh, we know you're studying. It's just nothing university can teach you.
L: [big smile] Jealous?
O: [flushes] No! Just go already!
L: [Hugs Ophelia] See you sometime. [Laertes leaves stage]
Narrator (Peter): And we shouldn't see him…for a while, if everything goes as planned.
O: [Alice snapped around to the Role Holders behind her, and Peter, who's standing stage left, arms crossed, leaning back against the wall.] What the hell is going on? Why is Peter on stage?
N: No time to explain, your cue is coming up.
O: [glares at narrator] Quiet, you.
P: Ophelia, can we talk?
O: [turns from Peter] Sure. What is it?
P: I've been hearing…rumors that you and Prince Hamlet have been spending a lot of time together. Alone.
O: We often go on walks together. He's a good friend.
P: That's not what I've been hearing.
O: It's not—
P: Don't lie to your father. Do you love him?
O: …I do.
P: Break up with him.
O: WHAT?
P: You heard me. He is a Prince. You are not good enough for him. And with the recent death of his father, his behavior has been unstable of late. I don't want you related to someone like that. I want the best for you, and he is not it.
O: Dad, I love him. And you can't tell me what to do.
P: I can. Leave him. For my sake and for yours. He will only bring you misery.
O: Why? I…can't… [Begins to cry] Alright. I will do as you say.
P: It's for your own good, my girl. [Kisses forehead] Trust me.
[Scene ends]
[Scene opens in ballroom. Hamlet stands alone.]
Ha: I can't believe this. How could my uncle have murdered his own brother? Why? Why?
[Ophelia walks in]
O: Hamlet, can I talk to you a moment?
Ha: [looks up] Oh, Ophelia. [Moves to hug her, but Ophelia holds up a hand to stop him. Confused:] What is it?
O: You're not going to like it.
Ha: My week can't really get much worse as it is. What is it?
O: My father told me to stop seeing you.
Ha: Say what?
O: I've been told that we can't be together anymore. I'm sorry.
Ha: Why?
O: He just told me to stop. He's seen your grief and your recent moods, and doesn't think it's healthy for me to be with you.
Ha: You're joking, right? This is just a really, really, bad joke, right?
O: [crying] I'm sorry, Hamlet. I truly am. [runs out of the room]
Ha: [stares, dumbfounded] Well, fuck.
[Scene ends, spotlight on narrator in left corner of stage. Curtain closes. Spotlight falls on Peter, in same casual position where we last saw him.]
N: Well, Hamlet's just not having the best month, is he? Oh, hello. You're all wondering who I am. I am just a lowly narrator, at your service. [bows] I am here to clarify and comment on the events. Not to mention, to speed us along our story. Otherwise, we'd be here all night.
[Offstage] Boris: White, hurry it up!
N: Yes, yes, annoying little kitty cat. I'm going. [clears throat] As I was saying before my rude interruption, we now move onto the next part of the story. Hamlet knows that his uncle Claudius murdered his father, but he needs proof. You cannot go around killing monarchs without there being some consequences, after all. For reference, I give you the French Revolution.
[Offstage] Boris: White!
N: [Ignores] And so Hamlet invites a traveling theatre troupe to the castle and asks them to put on a particular play, in order to finally assure himself that his uncle is guilty.
[Curtain opens to miniature stage on the left, turned outward to the audience, with a small set of stands to the right side, also turned out to the audience. Hamlet stands with the Player, while others mingle around the stands]
Ha: And you've prepared the idea I've given you?
Pl: Oh yes, it's all set. We even enlisted a few old friends of yours.
Ha: Who?
[Rosencrantz and Guildenstern walk on stage] R&G: Hamlet! Hey!
Ha: Ros! Guil! What's up? Where have the two of you been all this time?
R: Stuff.
G: Fun stuff. You watching the show?
Ha: Yep.
R&G: Good! It's gonna be great! [scamper off]
Ha: They're more in sync then ever.
Pl: Not gonna lie, they scare me sometimes. Oh well. Go and enjoy the show!
[Hamlet settles into his seat on the stands. Two spotlights come on: one on Claudius, the other on the mini stage.]
A faceless narrator appeared and began to recite what would be the stupidest thing any one in Wonderland had heard in a long time. (That is saying something.)
On-stage Narrator: The pink and orange striped Chihuahua, dressed with a yellow bandana, crossed the cola flavored swamp on a teal dinosaur to the Sunny Land of Flowers and Candy to defeat the angry Anteater that had purple carnivore bunny minions.
Everyone, both on stage and in the audience, looked at each other oddly and wondered what the hell was happening as Dee, dressed as the Chihuahua, came onto the stage. Julius (Hamlet) glared at Gowland (the Player) who merely shrugged and held a finger to his lips. Claudius' (Blood's) face was covered in embarrassment.
OSN: The Anteanter of Doom had been terrorizing the neighboring Land of Reason and Rationality from which the Chihuahua had come, and, tired of it and ready to return to a life of tranquility, the citizens had sent their bravest, most competent, and fiercest warrior.
Dum stepped onto the stage opposite Dee, wearing all black, a menacing look on his face. He had a strange costume extra—a grey streak through his black hair, very similar to Blood's. It was not missed by anyone.
OSN: Little did the Chihuahua know that the Anteater had a sad and harsh life; he was banished at a young age from the Land of Peacocks and Fanciness for stealing the land's most precious emu egg to save his family from his angry Ant neighbor's. Because of this the Anteater hated irony and sided with the carnivore bunnies that were also misjudged for their carnivore ways.
Dee and Dum were miming their actions to the words of the narrator while the group looked on in shock and utter disbelief. This was not what had been planned. Alice was vibrating, but no one wanted to know whether it was from laughter or some less positive emotion. Two women who no one had ever seen before, both oddly with faces, joined in the bleachers with them.
Gray: What the hell is this supposed to be?
Ho: Shakespeare on crack?
Gray: Someone's on crack and it ain't Shakespeare.
Ha: Shh! We're getting to the good part. …I hope.
C: It can't get much…more than this. I don't even know how to describe it.
Ha: It wouldn't happen to remind you of anything, would it?
C: [glances oddly at Hamlet] Nothing more than my college days. Why?
"Hamlet" didn't get a chance to answer. The two strangers with faces began to speak.
La: I'm a loser.
Al: Yes… Yes you are... But I still love you.
La: *chuckles*
Everyone was now staring at the two girls, just noticing them.
R&G: Who are you two?
La: Peanut gallery. Watch the play already.
R&G: We're in the play!
La: Well then, get to it. [Waves like she's shooing them away]
Al: I'm pretty much the master. Muahahaha!
La: Yes, and I'm the author. [Al promptly disappears with a poof] Now, returning to the plot at hand…
Al: [returns] No. No more of that. I did not like it. AND, I started this, so I'm the author. Don't make me turn you into a featherless peacock...
La: I have a feather. No worries. [Points to a hat with a peacock feather that suddenly appears]
Polonius: Ahem. Would the audience kindly SHUT UP.
La: Yes, yes.
Al: Well, hello there! I'm Alexa, and this here is my story! My… precious.
La: *backs away slowly* You are a creep. A creepy, creepy… *backs away more*
Al: *walks over to Layla* You are being ridiculous. And you are the one with the creepy laugh. So meh.
La: Can't deny the creepy laugh. And 'meh'? What kind of argument is that? 'Meh.' I tell you…
R&G: You onee-sans are weird.
La: This coming from you two?
R&G: Yea.
La: All of you are weird. And I suppose I'm weirder for liking it.
Al: I was beginning to think you forgot about me… I was feeling left out. And Layla? Learn to freaking type, woman.
La: … I hate you so much right now.
Al: I'm impressed you typed that all correctly. *claps for Layla*
La: Hey, Alexa? Learn to use punctuation correctly. …Fuck. Typos. *cue Fail Parade*
Al: Leave all of my comments alone you grammar Nazi, you… Chyea.
Joker [from side]: This is more fun than watching what's on stage.
La: [stands, bows to Joker] So glad to be of service.
Al: Yay! [cue crazy anteater and peacock party] Woot!
La: Yay! Party! You bring the Dos Equis, I'll bring the rum!
Al: Oh… Layla… I thought someone told you… Wow, this is awkward… You weren't invited to the party…
La: …Then what about the rum? And why do you hate me so? *cries in emo corner with Peter*
Peter: Because you're crying in an emo corner. That says everything. [backs up] Get away from me.
La: Shut up. No one likes you. [Leaves Peter alone]
Al: I feel weird… Like someone took control of me for a second there… Weird… I bet this is your fault Layla…[La glares at Al] Shut up, I don't know how, but I bet it's all your fault.
La: Right, blame the omnipotent being in charge of this crack. Yes, do that.
Al: It's my computer, I started the story. So I'm in charge. So, there.
La: [robot voice] All hail the one who owns the computer.
Al: I love my computer. And I'm not too fond of your sarcasm there, missy.
La: Look who you're talking to. It's a major point of my personality.
Ha: I think this "reveal how my dad was murdered by putting on a play" thing isn't really working out.
Ho: I agree.
Al: I forgot there were others here besides Layla and I… Well howdy ho there!
Cast: Er…hello…people of the real world.
La: Oh, hello! I'm the omnipotent author who's been in control of your destinies for the last…seven chapters?
Peter: You are creeping me out. Especially you, Layla.
La: Again, this coming from the Stalker-in-Residence.
Al: *mockingly* I'm Layla; I'm SO smart and sarcastic. Blah, blah, blah, big word, blah. Oh and Layla what does an apricot look like?
La: Oh, I don't know, what does a panda look like? Hmmm?
Al: I WAS TIRED! I mean come on! I wore two different sandals to go take a shower! What's your excuse? Hmmm?
La: Albeit not having an excuse for that particular incident, I'm the one with vision issues. Yet I am able to distinguish a panda from a koala bear.
Al: You were wearing contacts. Don't give me that bull crap… And again, I was tired. Get that through your head. I know that might be a bit difficult because you are so headstrong.
La: Self-assured, headstrong…all the same thing. Nonetheless…oh shit, I forgot where I was going with that…*deep sigh*
Al: Sheesh Layla, way to make it PG13 now. Can we refrain from cursing? I know you curse like a bloody sailor, but at least attempt to keep it PG. M'kay?
La: *Refers Al to Ch. 6 of this fan fiction.* What is PG about this? Mm? I recall dropping the F word a couple lines back. And last I checked, 'bloody' is considered foul language in some other countries.
Al: I meant this little commentary part, not the story dumb-dumb.
La: Ah. I see. Yes, I stand corrected. …you are not allowed to comment on that.
Al: I will do what I want.
Cast: [pulls out second bowl of popcorn, requests drink refills from Peter, who grudgingly agrees.]
Al: So I have Mambo from West Side Story stuck in my head… Just wanted to put that out there. Oh, and Layla? You are a loser.
La: Ladies and gentlemen, my best friend. *claps*
Al: Thank you, thank you! Oh, and for the record, Layla cannot sing. Even if her life depended on it. Sorry, but it's true…
La: Well, if the music's loud enough, it doesn't really matter, does it?
Al: Well… *cough*. So… Layla just left to go to the bathroom… It's party time! Yeah!
[Everyone besides Layla starts dancing and having a fantastic time.]
Al: Ah! She's returned! Everyone, stop what you are doing!
La: Hello! I'm back. …What's going on?
Everyone: Nothing.
La: That's not suspicious.
Player: Can we move on now?
La: Yes, proceed.
[Everyone settles in for play's conclusion. If you're lost, proceed to section before the weirdness to catch up again.]
OSN [clears throat]: But, as the elected hero, the Chihuahua would not come to know this crucial and plot-changing point until much, much later. Now, standing in the poppy field where the battle would take place, he halted the teal dinosaur, fondly named Robert, and faced the Anteater.
The Bloody Twins continued to mime this part, and now faced each other on the stage, having gotten over the odd guests.
OSN: The Chihuahua dismounted and said to the Anteater:
Dee: Why are you terrorizing my country?
Dum: You wronged me.
De: What, how? What did we ever do to you?
Du: You banished me from your country.
De: No we didn't. You were banished from the Land of Peacocks and Fanciness, not the Land of Reason and Rationality.
Du: Contrarily: it's the same place. The name was changed by your current king after my banishment.
De: Well then. [Scratches the back of his uncomfortably] I'm sorry about that. But couldn't you stop now? I'll go back and forget this ever happened, and then we won't have to fight each other.
Du: Contrary-wise, since we're here though, we may as well go at it. I mean, it's kind of a waste not to.
De: Good point. [The Chihuahua whipped out his weapon, a pogo stick. It allowed him better access and reach in order to bite his enemy to death. Actually, it was very effective.]
The Anteater (a.k.a. Dum) pulled out a long blow gun and a bag of poisoned darts. The spotlight on the miniature stage lowered.
OSN: So, you, the audience, can imagine how this fight went down. Without going into semantics the Chihuahua was defeated. The Anteater took his body back to the Land of Reason and Rationality (which is ironic in itself because what is reasonable about a pink and orange striped Chihuahua who wields a pogo stick?). The Anteater, hater of irony, then took it upon himself to dispose of the king and become king himself. He married the Queen, and lived somewhat happily ever after.
The play-within-the-play ended and the cast descended from the bleachers, people in all black moving quickly on stage to dissemble the sets from the stage. Hamlet and Claudius were left on stage, Hamlet watching for his reaction. Claudius looked furious and stomped his way off stage.
Ha: So at last, I know that my father was murdered, and by his brother, no less! Although, I really need to look into hiring new entertainment from now on… [leaves stage]
[scene closes]
* Note: There is reference through the original that the Danes are heavy drinkers (must of been a political thing of the times; the Brits did not like the Danes at the historical moment). I am not making this up. Well, most of it. The important stuff at least. Like the plot. The lines…yeah.
Al: I was distracted by my mother, so I was not in control of the end of the story. So if you hate it, it was all Layla's fault. So blame her… not me. Brownies for EVERYONE! Except for Layla…
La: Ah, well. I'll just drink all the rum. *looks around* Where has all the rum gone?
***More Notes: We didn't use our real names in this. This was a collaborative effort on the part of my friend and I, with the help of extreme boredom and a few doses of sugar. Contrary to what it seems, we were completely sober, and in no way, shape or form, condone the consumption of illegal substances, nor underage drinking to the readers who are underage in their respective countries. But, if you must, so be it. Just don't get caught.
I sincerely apologize for this. But I like it anyway; I think it's funny (albeit silly), so I'm keeping it. Never again am I doing the role-play thing, though. I will update…eventually. Yes. That. If you hated it, let me know in the least abusive way of possible so that I can remind myself—again—to never do this. Also, if the play-script writing was confusing, please let me know.