The Unfortunate Side Effects of Shakespeare

[godsavemy]

WHO: Desperate Romeo (Dewi) and Entirely Unwilling Juliet (Arthur)
WHEN: 22nd of June, Tuesday late afternoon.
WHERE: The crime scene? The Myrtles House, unsuccessfully trying to emulate the Globe Theatre.
WHAT: “...You need an acting partner for what scene?!”
RATING: Reason #289 Why We’re Going To H-E-Double Hockey Stick

Comments

D-damn typos.

[not_whales]

Surely the Globe, even in it's charred magnificence before rising from the ashes again, made a better stage than Arthur's coffee table, which he was currently soiling with the oils of his bare feet. The impromptu stage was clumsier than he, only magnifying his gelatin knees and nearly knocking he and his glasses floor-bound mid-monologue.

"But soft! What light through yonder window breaks?
It is the East, and Juliet is the sun!
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon
Who is already sick and pale with grief
That thou her maid art far more fair than she.
Be not her maid, since she is envious.
Her vestal livery is but sick and gre-- gyah

[godsavemy]

“A couple of hours,” Arthur flatly replied as he rested his arms on the banister, surveying the scene below with a keen sense of resigned amusement. It would have been a different story if that lamp had met its demise. Dear Romeo would have been greeted with an incensed Englishman yelling at him for breaking yet another priceless antique. And really, hadn’t he learned his lesson a fortnight ago when he utterly demolished a Regency Era end table during a monologue from The Woman in Black and got all those splinters in his back

[not_whales]

His smile wilted if only for a fleeting second at the realization that his borrowed abode would have one cast member too many for longer than he, as shown by the state of the living room, had predicted. Script in hand, and feeling like the very eyes of his mother were boring into his glasses, he strode around the couch like a skittish feline to reset the furniture and toss the throw pillows against the armrests.

After counting the number of wrinkles between his brother's furrowed brows, he deduced that he already learned of the shards of glass bunking beneath the rug, but for accidental reinforcement in the Welshman's predictions, the arch of his foot bore down on the terrible sound of chiming crunch. Following the cries of the former knick-knack came the cries of its murderer, with a parting gift stuck just beneath his big toe.

"I thought I told you that- ow." He stood flamingo-like again to free his foot of the glass. "I was going to New York for an audition. The play is Romeo and Juliet. But if it irks you, then the stage

[godsavemy]

“Oh, really? Romeo and Juliet? Goodness, if you never told me, I certainly would have never guessed that.” The sarcasm, while perhaps overblown, was entirely appropriate considering he could hear the agonizingly audible sound of crunching of glass and the subsequent yelp of pain from Dewi. Honestly, he could at least make the effort to be subtle in the further destruction of Arthur’s property. ‘Twas only decent.

“But a most original choice. Rarely a production of that particular play.” He was tempted to ask if it was being put on by a Drama Club at a secondary school, but the last time he had mentioned something along those lines, a plimsoll had almost collided with his head. And considering Dewi had no shoes on to lob, Arthur feared for all of the surrounding pieces of furniture that Dewi could ruin far too easily.

[not_whales]

Dewi certainly did not appreciate the sarcasm, and it showed on every line etched in his face. Arthur had no appreciation for the arts, and even if Romeo and Juliet was essentially about two lovesick teens basing every thought on libido, the writing and need for dramatic stage presence was nothing short of brilliant. An impossibility, it was, not to fall in love with the writing just as Juliet and Romeo fell for each other.

"And I intend to play the part of Romeo." He announced it just as easily as if he'd already received the part. It was inevitable. The others didn't stand a chance.

[godsavemy]

Arthur resisted a second round of sarcastic disbelief, but didn’t hold himself back from scoffing. “Considering the lines you’re reciting, it was hardly a mystery.” He rolled his R’s in the plummy way he knew grated on Dewi’s nerves. “But thank you kindly for enlightening me, Poirot.”

Strange, faux gratitude was harder to suppress. After all if he were trying out for Mercutio or Tybalt or the Nurse, he would be practicing their lines and not wasting his time and effort on Romeo’s part. Arthur may have never have acted or been heavily involved in the theatre world save for going to the occasional play, but that was pure common sense right there.

[not_whales]

"Actually," he began, then noticing the look on Arthur's face. Actually, in all laws that were Dewydd Ercwlff Ainsworth-Kirkland, was ninty-eight percent of the time followed by something akin to a favor. Or a tidbit of information that one Arthur Kirkland would not care to hear or listen to.

"I have yet to find someone who is willing to play the part of Juliet for me. It's difficult to pause between every line where she's supposed to speak, as it subtracts from my motivation and takes me out of character."

[godsavemy]

The drawn out rising and falling inflection of aaactually was Arthur’s first and most important sign that whatever followed was either a favour or a meaningless quip and most certainly something Arthur would not like. And once he heard the words the part of Juliet spoken so nonchalantly, so unassumingly, Arthur knew with the utmost certainty that he would have preferred to hear about a scarcely known and completely useless fact about the tragic Italian tale.

“And that concerns me how?” Arthur brushed off the imploring undertone, turning to leave before Dewi could ask him outright. He much rather be sleeping than dealing with this particular request.

[not_whales]

"You said you have a couple'a hours left until you have to get to the airport. I could really use a hand with these lines... is there any chance you could... you know... h-help me? Just read her lines for me." He clutched the script hard between the flat of his forefinger and pad of his thumb. The defenseless, half-inch thick ream of paper-clipped paper curled under his press.

"It will only take a minute."

[godsavemy]

“Are you honestly asking me to stand in for...” Arthur trailed off, having swiveled back around to look down at Dewi and his god awful plaintive expression that was slowing melting into-- “Oh no! Don’t you dare give me those eyes!” What kind brother was he to use such a pitiful face...? And against a younger sibling no less!

“And another thing! You know it’s never a minute! Not at the rate you’re speaking, boyo.” One too many dramatic pauses in that particular monologue for his liking. He could probably cook (burn) an egg and still come back to hear the end of the one he just listened to. “So you’re better off practicing with a mirror or some other item with a reflective surface.”

[not_whales]

"P-please Arthur!" as if the burden on his shoulders had suddenly increased twofold, Dewi buckled at the knees and fell upon them - not, not begging just for dramatic effect. "I-I'll even skip to part I haven't memorized yet! It will only take a few minutes!"

With both hands extended toward the balcony, he presented the script as if it were the Holy Grail itself.

[godsavemy]

“What are you doi-- S-stop that!” Dear God, Dewi was certifiably groveling on the ground, disregarding the fact that he looked right pathetic like that and more than a tad bit queer without any shoes on. Arthur had to turn his head and look away from the sight, feeling embarrassed in Dewi’s stead. He had never outright begged before, not like this. It was a jarring sight to say the least. And damn it all, probably worked exactly as Dewi intended.

“...Which lines?” Arthur asked, feeling his resolve crumble and not enjoying the feeling at all. “Not that I’m saying yes exactly! But...which lines would you have me read?”

[not_whales]

But what Arthur didn't - or probably already - know was that it translated directly into 'why, yes, I would be most honored to practice the lines with you!'

"Act Five Scene One," he explained, leafing through the script like a frantic college student trying to find the page they dog-earred for an approaching test. "In which it begins with:
If I profane with my unworthiest hand
This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this:
My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand
To smooth that rough touch with a tender k-- Arthur, get down from there! I can't talk to you from the balcony! This isn't Act Two Scene Two!"

[godsavemy]

“Oi! I didn’t say yes, yet,” was contradictorily said as Arthur made his way down the stairs. It was simply to get a better look at the lines he might have to recite - was his reasoning. And if Dewi took it the wrong way, it was on his own head. But the lines he had quickly (almost too quickly) recited rang familiar. Certainly one of the more quoted lines in the play, Arthur recognised, but he could almost swear those line were from--

Arthur stop short, only a few steps away from the bottom. “You’re having me on. That scene?” When he received no reply other than a sheepish look from Dewi, Arthur took it as a resounding yes and promptly turned around to go back up to his room.

[not_whales]

"Shush your noise, Arthur," he straightened his back enough to gain an inch or two more than the two he already held over his brother. He barely caught the most protruding fold in Arthur's sweater vest to keep him from escape. Once he caught hold of the bugger, the look he received turned his fishing trip into a catch and release.

"You don't even have to come to the play! I-I won't recite it any more unless it's out in the garden or you're out!" And satisfied with his persuasion, as a demand, not a request, he shoved the script into Arthur's hands and pointed a bold finger at the line read JULIET.

[godsavemy]

It was a good thing that Arthur had a good hold on the railing, or else he might have had an unfortunate accident that resulted in his head getting split open like one of those papier-mâché animals full of sweets at children’s birthday parties. Or else he would have landed on Dewi and it would have been his skull cracking open. At the moment he had less of a problem with that particular scenario.

“Don’t you tell me to--” Arthur started before a couple loose papers were thrust into his hands and a rude finger pointed to the desired lines in question. He stared at them bleakly, remembering all too well about pilgrims and their palms and what they stood for. He tore his eyes away from the script to look up at Dewi, the expression on his face practically bellowing that he would hound Arthur until he got what he wanted.

Of all the ridiculous things... “Fine,” Arthur relented. “One time and that’s it.”