Tuesday, April 24, 2012

And The Rest is Silence

Short story what if Hamlet were performed only from the perspective of his diary? I believe it would look something like this:

My stepdad/uncle got trashed at his wedding to my slut mother and unceremoniously shoved his lascivious tongue down her throat. I could see her porcelain neck crane as fat from the bird’s leg in his mouth dripped from his long thin beard into her heaving cleavage. I left to walk the walls morosely, a new found habit since my father’s untimely and suspect death.

My dear friend Horatio came to me this eve and spoke of a ghost he had seen with two guards. The guards are an ignorant and stupid bunch; my father would probably be alive today if they had properly attended to him. I begrudgingly accepted their invitation to see this apparition. I think Horatio has taken to drink in this most somber and trying of times.

The guards cannot tell their heads from the drunken asses of the two backed incest beast that governs this castle. On the matter of a ghost though, they are correct. I saw my father’s ghost at the stroke of midnight and pursued it. The dimwits disappeared and I descended down with my father to converse on matters obscene. He disclosed that in his sleep a poisonous tincture had been poured in his ears by the very man who now rules this kingdom--my uncle. He dissolved in the air and my comrades reappeared; I swore them to an oath of secrecy. I have little doubt they would be unable to defend the castle from invasion. Ophelia’s dorky brother Laertes went to college today. That family is a mess.

I have decided to murder the false king. I have also decided to appear to go mad to gain his confidence. The plan is fool-proof. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern came to visit. These two dunces tried to decipher my plan but I saw through their bribery. I also broke up with Ophelia for good--gold digging girl.

No one likes my plays. Or my puns about putting heads in laps. I had the opportunity to kill him but I could not do it. I talked myself into it. Then out of it. Oh, how I vacillate so. Action would be so decisive yet the ramifications of my blood soaked dagger haunt me before the ghost

I talked with the harlot who hath borne me from her womb in her room. The woman who is guided only by her lusty loins saw not when my father’s apparition appeared before us in her quarters. I have some serious mommy and daddy issues.

I killed Polonius. I’m out of here.

Escaped banishment. Alas poor Yorrick. I made my return. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead.

Laertes came to fight me over some misunderstanding about the circumstances of his father’s death. I agreed to a duel. My skills far out match his and he will have little chance of victory unless he tips his sword with poison. After I kill Laertes I will kill the impostor King in the throes of my passion. Oh yeah, Ophelia also died a while back. I was pretty broken up about that.

And the rest is silence.