Chapter Three
Disclaimer: I do not own Hamlet.
"Well, have you figured out why Hamlet's crazy yet?" Claudius asked as Rosencrantz and Guildenstern bowed before him.
"In the five minutes we spoke to him, we were not able to ascertain a reason for his madness," Guildenstern answered dryly.
"Just as well," Gertrude remarked. "If it were that easy, chances are we would have picked up on it by now."
"He did seem awfully excited to see the pervert players," Rosencrantz spoke up. "He said that he's going to change the script to try and induce you to confessing that you killed your brother and everything, My Lord."
"It's been so long since he's been excited about anything," Gertrude said wistfully.
"Too true, my dear," Claudius agreed. "And he changed the play for me? It would be rude not to be there. Now everyone needs to go away so I can spy on my least-favorite nephew in peace."
After his wife and two stooges left, Polonius and Ophelia approached him.
"Ah, Lady Ophelia," Claudius greeted warmly. "I see you've found a new boyfriend? I'm glad you're not still brooding about Hamlet. I mean, I suppose he's a handsome enough fellow, but a bit too insane for my tastes…"
Ophelia coughed delicately. "Actually, sir, this is my father."
Claudius blinked. "I thought your father was dead."
"Why don't you go walk around the lobby, Ophelia. I think Hamlet's going to be making his rounds soon," Polonius suggested, annoyed again by his lack of memorability.
"Let's go hide behind this pillar," Claudius decides, pulling Polonius along.
"That pillar isn't nearly big enough to hide behind," Polonius protested.
"He's crazy; he won't notice," Claudius assured him.
"I hope you're right…" Polonius murmured.
After a good minute or so of waiting, Hamlet wandered in, talking to himself. "I wonder if I should commit suicide? It would hurt and I'd go to hell, but I wouldn't have to deal with my Uncle anymore. Unless HE went to hell, too, which is highly probably given that he killed my father…"
"Is there any particular reason you want to commit suicide, Hamlet?" Ophelia asked, wondering what one was supposed to say in this kind of situation.
"My Uncle is EVOL, I'm not King, two random people classmates of mine seem intent on stalking me, I can't find Horatio, Laertes got to go to France and not me, this one fishmonger keeps trying to bring me down, you broke up with me, my mother seems to have buried her backbone with my father…who is dead. Need I go on?" Hamlet asked.
"No, I think I've got it. But killing yourself seems kind of drastic. Remember, eternal damnation never, ever ends," Ophelia reminded.
"Are you calling me a coward because I don't want to face the unknown and so would rather stick this out?" Hamlet demanded angrily.
Ophelia stared at him. "No."
"Oh. I thought you were. So what do you want, anyway?" Hamlet asked, trying to sound nonchalant.
"Seeing as how we've broken up, I want to give you your things back," Ophelia explained, handing him a box full of his possessions.
"These aren't mine," Hamlet insisted, pulling out a pair of gloves and putting them out. "I was looking for these…"
"Are you sure?" Ophelia asked skeptically. "They have your monogram on them."
"Of course I'm sure," Hamlet snapped. "What do you take me for?"
"A crazy person?" Ophelia suggested.
"Liar!" Hamlet yelled.
"What am I lying about?" Ophelia was confused. "You asked my opinion and I gave it. Unless you think I have a different opinion that I'm hiding from you, which would make no sense as the opinion I gave wasn't exactly flattering."
"Your beauty is a lie," Hamlet crossed his arms irritably.
The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. "What are you saying?" Ophelia asked icily.
"I love you," Hamlet told her.
"You can't stand here and insult me and then try and make it better by saying that you love me!" Ophelia fumed. "Especially seeing as how we're broken up!"
"We never dated," Hamlet corrected. "Seeing as how I don't love you."
"We could have dated without you loving me and you just that you did two seconds ago! Will you just make up your mind?" Ophelia demanded, frustrated.
"Can you prove I told you I loved you?" Hamlet asked. Seeing Ophelia about to explode, he blithely continued, "I know, Ophelia. People are awful. You should really go join a nunnery so you don't have to deal with them."
"Is this some variation of the old 'If I can't have you, nobody will'?" Ophelia inquired. "Because if it is, it's really stupid, although I do appreciate the lack of you trying to murder me."
"You know, it's all your fault that I'm crazy," Hamlet said.
"I KNEW IT!" Polonius shouted.
"Shhhhhhh," Claudius chided him. "He may be crazy, but you never know what he's going to notice."
"How do you figure that?" Ophelia asked, genuinely puzzled.
"You're a girl," Hamlet explained. "And girls lie by wearing makeup and that makes men crazy. I hate you! I hate women! I hate humanity! I hate marriage! I'm going to go kill my Uncle now!" With that, he stormed off to go look for Claudius, passing right by the pillar his target was hiding behind.
"Wow. You know, he seemed reasonably sane just two days ago…" Ophelia mused. "Well, apart from the whole having conversations with a tree thing. Ah well, I suppose madness is just that quick sometimes."
"Well, Ophelia's father, I must concede that it looks like his behavior was partly caused by love for Ophelia," Claudius announced. "Although I can't help but feel there is something more to this. If I could just put my finger on it…"
"Perhaps it's because he wants to kill you?" Polonius suggested.
Claudius laughed. "My dear fellow, whatever gave you that idea?"
"He just said he was going off to go kill you," Polonius pointed out.
"It's a figure of speech," Claudius said dismissively. "Maybe a change of scenery would do him good. I know! I'll send him to England!"
"Why not just let him go back to Wittenberg if you're not keeping him in Denmark?" Ophelia suggested.
"Why would I send him back to Whittaker?" Claudius asked. "I'm starting to suspect that they might have something to do with his mental instability. If I ever attack Prussia, I'm totally going to torch the place."
"Whatever you think is best, sir," Polonius said diplomatically. "After the play, I'm going to send Hamlet to the Queen's chambers to see if she can get anything out of him. I'll hide in the room to make sure that Hamlet doesn't try to hurt her in a fit of insanity."
"That's very thoughtful of you," Claudius said, pleased. "I hope he doesn't kill you in a fit of madness either."
- -
"Hamlet, have you ever acted a day in your life?" Horatio asked, watching Hamlet giving strict instructions to how he wanted the Players to act.
"Nope, why?" Hamlet asked cheerfully.
Horatio just shook his head. "No reason…"
"Well, I think that's all the help I can give you. Be gone," Hamlet said, waving the players away.
"You can follow us," Polonius said, walking by with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. "We'll show you where you can get ready."
"Horatio!" Hamlet enthused once the two were alone. "Where have you been? I missed you."
"Oh, you know, I've been around. I had a drinking contest with Ophelia yesterday. That girl can really hold her liquor…" Horatio informed Hamlet, impressed.
"Ophelia's keeps obsessing about me, you know," Hamlet confided. "It's kind of creepy."
"If you say so, Hamlet," Horatio rolled his eyes.
"See? This is the kind of loyal service and integrity that makes me have such a high opinion of your intellect and behavior," Hamlet gushed.
"I'm glad you think so," Horatio said neutrally. "So what's the plan for tonight?"
"I intend to watch Uncle Claudius very closely during the play – especially during the scene I rewrote to copy what I know of my father's death – and I would appreciate it if you could do the same so we can compare notes afterwards and see if he looks guilty," Hamlet instructed.
"I'll be able to tell if he looks guilty alright," Horatio agreed. "Even though we all already know he is. Of course, it's entirely possible that he doesn't actually feel any guilt for his actions and as such won't be affected beyond maybe some paranoia that you've figured it out."
"You're a good man, Horatio," Hamlet said proudly. "Now come on, let's go wait for the play to start."
As Hamlet and Horatio found their seats, Hamlet warned, "I'm going to start acting crazy, so don't freak out."
"I never do…" Horatio murmured.
"How are you, my dear boy?" Claudius asked cordially.
Hamlet stared at Claudius for a long moment before replying. "Seven until I kill you. Then I'll be eel."
Claudius coughed. "Ah, well, excellent then."
Hamlet turned to Polonius. "Speaking of eels, I'm glad to see that you gave up your position as an actor to become a fishmonger once you became too old to cross-dress. And why in the world do you seem to be everywhere? We don't eat that much fish, do we?"
Before poor Polonius could respond, Hamlet moved on to Ophelia. "Can I sit in your lap?"
"No," Ophelia said automatically.
"Why not?" Hamlet asked.
"Because you're crazy, we're in public, and we're not dating anymore," Ophelia replied.
"We were never dating," Hamlet countered.
"Then it would be even less appropriate," Ophelia told him.
"Why didn't we ever have sex?" Hamlet asked.
"Because we were never married and I'm not one of those kinds of girls," Ophelia told him. "And if you don't stop bothering me I'm going to stab you."
"Fine, geez," Hamlet said, backing off. "I know you're obsessed with me, but you don't have to be so violent about it."
Ophelia studiously ignored him.
When the play started, two men came out as a King and Queen.
"I love you more than anything," the King told the Queen. "And I just want you to be happy so when I die, feel free to marry anyone you like, so long as they're not related to me."
"Don't be stupid!" the Queen bursts out. "I love you far too much to ever remarry! And if I ever did remarry I certainly wouldn't pick your far-less-attractive brother! And I certainly wouldn't wait less than a month before having such a despicable incestuous marriage!"
"That's oddly specific, but sweet," the King decides. "I think I'm going to take a nap. Goodbye, Dear."
As the King was sleeping, a man snuck up to the King and poured poison in his ear.
The Queen came up behind him. "My dear brother-in-law, what are you doing?" she asked.
"Definitely not murdering your husband," came the quick reply. "He is dead, though. Want to get married?"
"Is my first husband's body even cold?" the Queen asked.
"Not yet," the Murderer admitted.
"I really shouldn't…I mean, I did just promise my late husband that I wouldn't quickly remarry you five minutes ago…" the Queen pointed out.
"Oh come on, pleeeeeeease," the Murderer begged.
"Oh all right," the Queen agreed.
"That's not how it happened at all!" Gertrude protested. "And I most definitely waited until after we made the announcement of Hamlet's death before starting anything with Claudius!"
"Yeah, and this play is really awful. I say we all leave," Claudius said, standing up and following Gertrude out of the room.
The rest of the audience decided that if the monarchs weren't going to sit through Hamlet's revisions, they wouldn't either and quickly made their way to the exits as well.
"We're still getting paid for this, right?" one of the Players asked.
"Of course, sure," Hamlet said distractedly. "So what's the verdict? Did he seem guilty to you?"
"Not particularly during the play, but your mother did seem guilty and your uncle seems guilty every other time I see him," Horatio opined.
"Hey, Hamlet," Rosencrantz said as he and Guildenstern poked their heads into the doorway. "Your mom is looking for you."
"Then why didn't she just come back here? Or not leave in the first place?" Hamlet asked quizzically.
"Because she didn't like the play and didn't feel like it," Guildenstern answered. "She's in her room."
"Have you figured out why you're crazy yet?" Rosencrantz asked.
"Stop trying to trick me!" Hamlet shouted angrily.
"…We're just going to go…" Guildenstern said as he and Rosencrantz quickly took their leave.
"Hamlet!" Polonius greeted as he strolled into the room. "Your mother is concerned that your insanity might make you forget where her room is and asked me to escort you."
"I know where her room is!" Hamlet said, offended. "Now go away before I throw Horatio at you."
- -
"I can't believe my nephew wrote something like that!" Claudius complained. "It was so tacky! And that part of the show was supposed to be SILENT. That's it, it's too embarrassing to keep him here any longer. I'm sending him to England tomorrow. You two will go with him to make sure he doesn't get lost or head back to Willowfield, right?"
"Sure, why not?" Guildenstern asked.
"Just as long as we're not taking the same boat as the players…" Rosencrantz agreed.
Claudius laughed nervously. "Of course not…now you two should go get ready. If Hamlet annoys you too much on the trip, you can just give this letter to the King of England and they'll kill him for you."
"Isn't that a bit extreme?" Rosencrantz asked.
Claudius shrugged. "If you think so, then don't give it to him."
Rosencrantz and Guildenstern quickly departed and Polonius took their place.
"Just reminding you that I'm Polonius, your advisor, and I'm going to hide in your wife's bedroom to spy on her conversation with her son so if anything happens to me, I blame Hamlet," Polonius said.
"Right," Claudius nodded. After Polonius left, the King continued, "You know, my nephew may be eight bricks short of a full load, but the kid asks some valid questions: why DO we have a fishmonger at court? Ah well, guess I should try and pray, seeing as I'm in a chapel and whatnot."
Hamlet, on his way to his mother's room, spotted Claudius kneeling on the floor and took out his sword. "Patience, enjoy it, revenge can't be taken in haste-"
"I'm not quite sure what the point is to any of this seeing as how I'm not sure I believe in God and if He's real I'm totally going to hell because I killed my brother," Claudius said.
"No, he's praying, damnit," Hamlet cursed, staying his hand. "It wouldn't do for the murdering bastard to go to heaven after everything because I couldn't wait…"
- -
"Remember, my Queen, that as Hamlet's mother you stand a better chance than most in figuring out why he's up and lost it," Polonius said. "His behavior was strange and vaguely threatening and you should chastise him for it."
"I agree," Gertrude said. "But who are you and why are you hiding in my room? It's…bizarre."
"Be that as it may, I need to be able to objectively report this to your husband and thus I need to see it," Polonius said. "As for my identity…well, no one seems to be able to remember it, so why bother with it?"
"Is a tapestry really the best place to hide behind?" Gertrude asked.
"Why wouldn't it be?" Polonius asked, ducking behind it.
"I can see your feet sticking out," Gertrude said flatly.
"Let's hope Hamlet's crazy enough not to or so crazy that he thinks that kind of thing is normal," Polonius suggested.
Before Gertrude could argue the point, Hamlet stormed into her room. "What do you want, mother?" he asked, irritable that he had to suppress his murderous impulses earlier.
"Your play was very rude and has offended your father," Gertrude began.
"Oh, you can see him, too?" Hamlet asked hopefully.
Gertrude gave him a strange look. "Of course I can. Are you feeling alright?"
"Did he tell you that he was offended that you married his little, creepier, brother within a month of his death despite the fact you promised him you wouldn't?" Hamlet asked.
"I never promised him anything of the sort," Gertrude snapped. "Your father never mentioned anything of the sort."
"Maybe it's because he didn't think he had to," Hamlet shot back, grabbing her by the arm and shaking her. "I mean, do you have any idea what a huge sin this is? Not only is it lacking in respect for the dead, but he's your brother-in-law! That's incest and you're going to hell!"
"HELP!" Gertrude cried.
"HELP, SOMEONE!" Polonius echoed, not thinking to try and help her himself.
"Hey look, a spy in my mother's bedroom! I bet it's a pervert! Or Claudius! Or both!" With that, Hamlet took out his sword and stabbed Polonius. "Ah," he sighed. "My murderous impulses are fulfilled at last…"
"Alas," Polonius said weakly as he slid down the wall and onto the floor. "I am slain."
" 'Alas I am slain'?" repeated Gertrude disgustedly. "What kind of dying words are those?"
"Lame ones," Hamlet agreed. "Why was that fishmonger hiding in your room, anyway?"
"You know what, I don't remember," Gertrude confessed. "But never mind that, where were we?"
"I was explaining why you were such a horrible person and are going straight to hell," Hamlet reminded her. He took out a picture of his father and his uncle that he was, for some reason, carrying around. "Do you see them?"
"Yes, Hamlet, I know what both of my husbands looked like," Gertrude assured him.
"Are you blind then? How could you possibly have been married to this wonderful god-like man and then throw it all away for this…God, I can't even think of a way to describe him," Hamlet said bitterly.
"Well, it's not like I had a choice about it," Gertrude pointed out. "Your father was dead so I couldn't have stayed with him. And there's nothing wrong with your Uncle."
"Except for the fact that he's EVOL, my uncle, and a killer," Hamlet muttered. "He's not worthy to be my father's brother…"
"Careful there, Hamlet, you sound a bit overly fond of your father," Gertrude cautioned.
"Whatever do you mean?" Hamlet asked innocently.
"Never mind," Gertrude sighed.
"I honestly can't believe you could be so stupid, so fickle, so weak, so blind as to-" Hamlet began angrily, then stopped suddenly and turned pale.
"As to what?" Gertrude prompted after a few minutes had passed.
"I know you said to leave her alone, but she started it," Hamlet insisted, sullenly crossing his arms. "I tried to kill Claudius, but he was praying and then he was a fishmonger and-"
"Seriously, Hamlet, who are you talking to?" Gertrude asked.
"My father," Hamlet replies reverently.
"Claudius isn't here right now," Gertrude informed him.
"No him," Hamlet snapped. "I meant my real father."
"You…think you see your father?" Gertrude asked slowly.
"No, I know I see him," Hamlet shot back, gesturing towards the Queen's wooden dresser. "You would see him too if you weren't so unfaithful. Oh, now he's gone…" he said sadly.
"You really need help," Gertrude said solemnly. "I'll go get the King and then-"
"NO!" Hamlet yelled desperately. "I'm not mad, I swear to you I'm not. I'm just pretending to be crazy so I can kill your husband! Please don't tell anyone!"
"I won't," Gertrude vowed shakily.
"Thank you mother," Hamlet smiled at her. "Goodnight!"
"Wait," Gertrude stopped him, pointing to Polonius' corpse. "Aren't you forgetting something?"
"Oh, right. This only happened because God hates me, you know," he said conversationally. "Remember, I'm going to England tomorrow so I'm not sure when I'll be back. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern keep acting so suspiciously and lying every other time they open their mouths that I may have to do something drastic to get back here safely. But anyway, sweet dreams!"
Gertrude could only stare as he left the room whistling merrily and dragging Polonius behind him.
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