Shakespeare: Slammed, Smeared, Savaged and Slaughtered, Part II
By
Jay Dubya
Cyberread.com
Copyright 2008
Other Books by Jay Dubya
Adult Fiction
Black Leather and Blue Denim, A ‘50s Novel
The Great Teen Fruit War, A 1960’ Novel
Frat’ Brats, A ‘60s Novel
Ron Coyote, Man of La Mangia
Pieces of Eight
Pieces of Eight, Part II
Pieces of Eight, Part III
Pieces of Eight, Part IV
The Wholly Book of Genesis
The Wholly Book of Exodus
Thirteen Sick Tasteless Classics
Thirteen Sick Tasteless Classics, Part II
Thirteen Sick Tasteless Classics, Part III
Thirteen Sick Tasteless Classics, Part IV
So Ya’ Wanna’ Be A Teacher
Mauled Maimed Mangled Mutilated Mythology
Fractured Frazzled Folk Fables and Fairy Farces
FFFF&FF, Part II
Nine New Novellas
Nine New Novellas, Part II
Nine New Novellas, Part III
Nine New Novellas, Part IV
One Baker's Dozen
Two Baker’s Dozen
RAM: Random Articles and Manuscripts
Shakespeare Slammed, Smeared, Savaged & Slaughtered
Shakespeare: S, S, S, and S, Part II
Snake Eyes and Boxcars
Snake Eyes and Boxcars, Part II
Time Travel Tales
Suite 16
UFO: Utterly Fantastic Occurrences
Modern Mythology
Twain: tattered Trounced Tortured & Traumatized
Poe: Pelted Pounded Pummeled & Pulverized
O. Henry: Obscenely and Outrageously Obliterated
London: Lashed Lacerated Lampooned & Lambasted
Young Adult Fantasy Novels
Pot of Gold
Enchanta
Space Bugs, Earth Invasion
The Eighteen Story Gingerbread House
William Shakespeare’s Life (1564-1616)
William Shakespeare was born (just like the rest of us fragile mortals) in Stratford-on-Avon, England, situated about eighty miles northwest of London. The registers at the Holy Trinity Church indicate that Shakespeare was baptized (and nearly drowned) on April 26, 1564, probably three days after the future playwright popped out of his mother Mary’s snatcheroo. William was the third of eight children born to John and Mary Shakespeare (maiden name Arden), and his merchant father was once mayor of the somnolent community who would knock on residents’ doors and humorously and ridiculously announce, “Stratford-on-Avon calling! Ha, ha, ha!”
William courted and dated an attractive girl named Anne Hathaway, who lived in Shottery, a village around a half-mile (half-a-way) from Stratford-on-Avon. Anne was actually robbing the cradle since she was twenty-six and William was a mere eighteen when the pair wed in 1582 and even though Shakespeare never took drugs and seldom got drunk, as a horny youth he was often seen entering the “half-a-way house” in Shottery with a huge bulge in his pants. The couple had three children, Susana in 1583 and twins Hamnet and Judith in 1585. All three raunchy kids had to sleep in twin beds even though only Hamnet and Judith were bona fide twins.
After moving from the countryside to London Shakespeare soon became an actor, playwright, poet and businessman, becoming a partner in the ownership of the now-famous Globe Theater. His acting company The King’s Men often performed at the Globe and it is frequently and accurately said, “All the King’s horses and all ‘The King’s Men,’ couldn’t put Humpty Dumpty together again!”
William Shakespeare is reputed to have written thirty-seven plays and since he died at age fifty-two it is believed that he regularly wrote at “super-sonnet speed.” Shakespeare often had trouble holding his sword or spear steady while standing on stage and hence his physical appearance and trembling mannerisms often matched the structure of his last name. In his work the playwright demonstrates a tremendous knowledge of a variety of subjects such as music, history, politics, sports, law’, the Bible along with remarkable assorted bullshit. In 1611 William became pissed-off and bored with the Globe Theater so he lived the last five years of his life as a country gentleman in Stratford-on-Avon where he resided in the second largest house in the town. W.S. was buried in Trinity Church where he had been violently baptized fifty-two years earlier.
“Much Ado about Nothing”
Act I
In the late 1200s Don Pedro Prince of Aragon (kingdom in northeastern Spain) arrived in Messina (Sicily) with his spiteful bastard brother Don John. Two friends, Claudio of Florence and Benedick of Padua (who was often called by close pals “Good Dick”) had also accompanied the Prince. The entourage (and a fleet of galleys) was visiting Leonato (the Governor of Messina) on their way back to Spain after Don Pedro had engaged in a victorious military campaign over his brother Don John’s insurgent forces.
“This letter I’m holding has many letters in it forming words, sentences and paragraphs,” Governor Leonato said to his beautiful daughter Hero and to his fairly attractive niece Beatrice. “The text states that Don Pedro, the Prince of Aragon comes to our city en route back to Spain and the Royal One wishes to see me.”
“Maybe Don Pedro and his traveling party have plans to mess around in Messina,” the witty Hero laughed. “What a mess!”
“The letter also states that Don Pedro has conferred much honor and praise on a young valorous Florentine named Claudio,” Leonato added while ignoring his daughter’s fairly amusing comment.
“Has Signior Mountano returned from the wars too?” Beatrice asked her uncle. “He’s really dreamy and I’ve heard plenty of gossip about him and we’ve actually exchanged humorous letters where our minds have battled and jousted.”
“Who the hell is this Signior Mountano?” Governor Leonato bristled. “Is he some sort of anonymous rugged hill climber?”
“No Father!” Hero diplomatically interrupted. “My cousin Beatrice is using a pseudonym for Signior Benedick of Padua. By ‘Mountano’ she was casually alluding to ‘montaun,’ a particular fencing term that all men carrying sabers and swords are very familiar with. We’re sorry we caught you ‘off guard’ with that one Pop, ha, ha, ha!”
“Yes,” Beatrice concurred before Leonato could utter another word. “Benedick has tacked-up posters all over Messina challenging anyone to an arrow shooting contest. Regrettably the young handsome archer’s bow is his beau! I’d like to meet that cad Signior Benedick face-to-face and see if he matches-up to his widespread reputation. But that strange man eschews and shuns women and there’s rumors abounding that he’s either a gay or a neuter personage.”
“Well dear Niece,” Leonato said to Beatrice, “I understand that Benedick of Padua and his friend Claudio of Florence are close chums with Don John, Prince Don Pedro’s laconic and defiant bastard brother. Now since Prince Don Pedro and Don John have reconciled their differences after Don John’s failed insurrection they’re all merrily traveling together in this stopover excursion.”
“And when Don John isn’t a Don Juan he thinks he’s a damned playboy Casanova,” Hero chimed-in and giggled. “Men are all infatuated with their own delusions of grandeur.”
Ten minutes later Prince Don Pedro, Claudio of Florence, Benedick of Padua, Don John the Bastard and Balthasar (a servant of Don Pedro) showed-up at the Governor’s palace to confer with Leonato and to get a personal guided tour of the residence.
“Hello Governor Leonato!” Don Pedro greeted with a military salute. “I hope you’re staying out of trouble! Is this your lovely daughter I’ve heard so much about?”
“Yes, her name is Hero,” Leonato cordially confirmed.
“Why a name’ like Hero?” Benedick of Padua laughed. “I mean a hero is a male and a heroine is a female, even when she’s not taking heroin. Even the identification Hera would be appropriate being named after the Greek god Zeus’s wife, but Hero, well that’s pretty friggin’ strange in my book. Ha, ha, ha!”
“Nobody pays attention to anything you say Signior Benedick so why waste your damned breath trying to impress everyone with your nonsensical bull crap?” Beatrice admonished her all-too-critical pen pal whom she had never before seen.
“I trust that this disdainful wench, er, I mean this comely young lady is Beatrice, everybody’s favorite nobody with no body!” Benedick ridiculed. “Is my hypothesis about her skinny anatomy correct?”
“Yes it is!” Leonato indicated nodding his head.
“Women all throughout Europe love and adore me dear Beatrice, all except you folks residing here in Messina,” the quick-witted Benedick countered. “And just before I arrived here I had left my heart in Barcelona and it’s a damned good thing I have a three-hundred-mile-long aorta, ha, ha, ha!”
“I see that brain surgery isn’t the only kind of operation you need! Is that some sort of convoluted love initiative you’ve coyly presented?” Beatrice snapped back at Benedick while maintaining her dignified cool. “I’d rather hear my mangy hound bark at a sparrow than listen to any lying conniving asshole like you pledge that you love me. They say that there is much arrogance in Aragon but apparently that negative quality also thrives in Padua.”
“I only wish that my crippled horse Cannonball had half the speed of your wagging vinegar-coated tongue Lady Beatrice,” Benedick shrewdly complimented, “and if you were to stick-out your tongue at me it would more than likely be green, all jaded because you’re green with envy, something that the new-age secular philosophers aptly call penis jealousy, or is it ‘penis envy’?”
“Okay, enough frivolity and hilarity for a while!” Governor Leonato short-circuited the debate between Benedick of Padua and his opinionated niece Beatrice. “Now tell me Don Pedro, how long will your party be staying in Messina?”
“My party will possibly be partying here for as long as a month,” the Prince of Aragon answered. “My officers require some much-needed rest and relaxation after our recent military triumph. And besides that, we really love your extra-thick pizza that your people brick-oven-bake here in Sicily. My party wants to party here!”
“Don John,” Governor Leonato warmly recognized the cold-as-ice beady-eyed bastard brother, “you’re also welcome to Messina. I’m so glad that you and Don Pedro have mended your differences. I extend to you my city’s hospitality. Enjoy your stay here.”
“I’m a man of few words but thank you Governor,” the pretentious but generally reticent anti-social Don John succinctly answered. “Maybe I should work on my vocabulary development and etiquette while hanging-out here in Messina. I’ve always been deficient in the art of aristocratic conversation.”
Most of the group exited into an adjoining room to begin a grand tour of the palace but Claudio of Florence and Benedick of Padua stayed behind to privately converse.
“It looks like you’ve got the hots for Beatrice!” Claudio kidded Benedick giving him an elbow dig in the ribs. “I picked-up on those love vibrations right away and saw a throbbing bulge in your tights!”
“Stop breaking my balls!” Benedick scolded his sometimes-annoying friend. “That insecure little bitch just likes to mentally spar and parry to build-up her self-esteem at my expense. I’d much rather bang a nail into a board than bang her ass into a mattress!”
“Well then you lying degenerate jerk-off,” Count Claudio answered, “I myself’ really like the argumentative bitch and relish her very evident devil-may-care attitude. In my eyes Beatrice is the sweetest thing going on two legs and to my perception her tits and ass are above normal too,” Claudio related to Benedick. “And I really dig Sicilian chicks with swarthy complexion! Just watch me eat all of the dark meat on the table at tonight’s feast while I contemplate munching on Beatrice’s ebony-skinned crotchola.”
“You’d be much better-off marrying the fat and ugly Head Abbess at the local convent!” Benedick joked. “At least you’d be getting nun in the morning, nun in the afternoon and none at night! Now if Beatrice could do other things with her hyperactive mouth like licking, sucking and blowing besides her bothersome all-too-talkative speaking and haranguing, then marriage might be a fuckin’ far-fetched consideration. Say Claudio, what do you’ think of Hero? I’ll bet she makes some terrific sandwiches and hoagies.”
Before Claudio could answer Benedick’s wisecracks Don Pedro detoured into the palace’s reception room. The shrewd Prince of Aragon was suspicious of Don John’s two chief disciples having a secret conversation and possibly plotting against the illustrious triumphant conqueror.
“What are you two ignoramuses discussing?” Don Pedro rhetorically asked. “Who could piss into the wind the farthest? Tell me or I’ll consider both you insolent petulant clowns traitors!”
“Mark my words Don Pedro,” Benedick honestly stated, “Claudio here is deeply in love. Now I think he’s in love with Leonato’s daughter Hero but my frivolous fool of a friend claims he’s actually in love with Beatrice. Please forgive Claudio for being so fucked-up and confused. It’s because his mind is not right and logical when it’s infected with infatuation. Romance, which I accurately define as the male need to get laid, has thoroughly dulled his thought processes.”
“Benedick, is your middle name Arnold?” Claudio countered in defense of his ego. “That’s the name of a ruthless traitor in a novel I plan authoring some day, Benedick Arnold.”
“Is this’ love bullshit true Claudio?” Don Pedro asked while feigning a smile. “Perhaps I should relieve you of your commission until your testicles are completely relieved. You’ know Claudio, sperm juice can build-up in your gonads and begin contaminating your brain if it’s not sufficiently discharged at appropriate intervals. Why don’t you go into a secluded room and start jerking-off?”
“Yes Don Pedro, I believe that Cupid’s dart has smitten my heart!” Claudio of Florence inadvertently rhymed. “And maybe I’m a naïve idealistic asshole but I feel that my love for Beatrice goes beyond my need to get laid as you’ve so intelligently cited. I mean to say Don Pedro,” Count Claudio groped for the appropriate words, “sex is important in a biological sense, but love is much more complex and abstract and quite emotionally paralyzing. As a dedicated soldier I should be burned either at the stake or at the hamburger if I had to publicly profess my inspiration for Beatrice.”
“All’ that mouthy bitch is doing is distracting you from your important duties,” Benedick opined. “Now Don Pedro, don’t you agree with me about this crazy screwed-up affair that Claudio is voluntarily getting himself mixed-up in? I mean if Claudio needs a piece of ass that badly,” Benedick continued, “I’ll offer him my sword and he could cut the posterior off a friggin’ Sicilian donkey!”
“I tend to support Benedick’s position about your flagrant amorous intentions,” Don Pedro articulated with a forced grin. “Be like a good sailor Claudio: have a whore in every port and see each one every ten years or so. This love commitment bullshit goes entirely against military discipline! When an earthquake happens inside your head and not in your immediate environment, then there’s only one-way to describe your fate: You’re simply mentally and emotionally fucked-up Claudio! You can’t think straight when your dick’s straight! No man can! Do ya’ get what the hell I mean?”
“Now I really feel like a pile of shit!” Claudio disgustedly confided. “A massive pile of vertical shit taller than the Biblical Tower of Babel! Even fuckin’ taller than the Egyptian Pyramids!”
“If you’d like I’ll confidentially tell Governor Leonato that you have a hard-on for his niece,” Don Pedro presented to Claudio.
“This idiotic bullshit is getting too heavy for me to endure!” Benedick exaggerated. “I’ll get lost for a while and allow you two geniuses to hammer-out a profound solution to Count Claudio’s massive love dilemma that I don’t fuckin’ want to know about!”
Benedick of Padua left the palace foyer and Don Pedro and Claudio resumed their conversation. The latter gentleman felt very uncomfortable now that the Prince had learned of his strong feelings toward Beatrice.
“Does Leonato have any son?” Claudio inquired attempting to divert the awkward subject of discussion away from himself.
“No, only one child, his lovely daughter Hero,” Don Pedro revealed. “And what the hell do you think of that elegant broad?”
“Well as they say, all’s fair in love, war and carnivals,” Claudio obtusely replied. “Now Hero is no doubt a gorgeous doll but when I heard Beatrice arguing with Benedick my dick began bobbing wildly inside my tight leotards. I mean, I’m lucky that I didn’t tear a huge rip right around the front crotch all the way past my asshole!”
“Look Claudio, I’d rather see you make a pass at Hero than at Beatrice,” Don Pedro urged the handsome Florentine. “I mean I was going to try and put the make on her myself’ but I’ll gladly fuckin’ back-off in deference to you! If you’re going to pursue a woman, I suggest that you go top shelf! It’s all rather elementary Claudio! Hero has status and wealth and that loudmouth Beatrice does not!”
“Now you got my miniature mind all fuckin’ addled and bollixed-up!” Claudio lamented and protested. “But Don Pedro, I can now understand how love can be more of a war than the resistance provided by a determined military insurrectionist enemy might be!”
“Look you junior jerk-off! Listen to the voice of reason if not experience!” Don Pedro mildly reprimanded Claudio. “Here’s the scoop! There’ll be a superb masquerade party this evening and I’ll be masked in a disguise pretending to be you. I’ll approach Hero and tell her I’m you and that I got a hard-on for her that won’t quit. Well Claudio,” Don Pedro continued, “don’t you’ worry one iota! I’ll be discreet in my endeavor. I won’t tell Hero the message in those exact words! Then I’ll later divulge to Governor Leonato what had transpired and he’ll gladly bless your courtship with his charming daughter! That’s the strategic plan that I’m going to execute!”
“But I think I love Beatrice and not Hero!” Claudio politely objected to his superior. “I think I love Beatrice!” he reiterated.
“Fuck Beatrice!” the all-too-chauvinistic Don Pedro guffawed. “And if you’re lucky Count Claudio you’ll be fucking Hero too and all along be a very wealthy aristocrat to boot!”
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Governor Leonato’s older anonymous brother visited the Messina executive and brought him some spicy juicy gossip concerning his daughter Hero. Since rumor was oftentimes more valid than truth in Sicily naturally the Governor placed full credence in the currently divulged hearsay, which while spoken inside the Governor’s palace was both here-say and there-say.
“Tell me older Brother,” Leonato began, “is my nephew your son Antonio arranging the music for the masquerade tonight?”
“My’ son Antonio is a dim-witty and does not know how to arrange or compose music or even how to wipe his smelly ass,” the anonymous older brother disclosed. “Quite frankly my son Antonio is more into decomposition than he is into composition. But to answer your question Leonato, Antonio has been instrumental in hiring the musicians that will be playing their violins and guitars. Oh Brother! Do I’ have some interesting scuttlebutt to reveal!”
“You and your son Antonio are finally getting brain operations?” Leonato jested. “I’ll even pay for the exorbitant surgeons’ fees! So my Brother, do you remember that time when your boy Antonio came into the palace with his head all bleeding? He claimed he had accidentally hit himself in the noggin with an axe and had a splitting headache! That one really cracked me up! Ha, ha, ha!”
“Listen to this bullshit!” the anonymous older brother whispered into Leonato’s ear. “One of my servants was taking a piss in the apple orchard when he overheard a conversation between Prince Don Pedro and Count Claudio, who incidentally is an arithmetical expert in addition, in subtraction, in multiplication and in division.”
“What were my two prominent guests discussing that apparently made you have kidney failure?” Leonato curiously asked.
“Well,” the anonymous brother snickered before chewing and swallowing down a sweet chocolate, “my eavesdropper heard Prince Don Pedro tell Count Claudio that he loved my niece Hero, who if you remember also happens to be your daughter. And Don Pedro is going to put the make on Hero tonight at the gala masquerade party that incidentally you are hosting.”
“How do I know that this bullshit you’re conveying to me is not misinformation?” the intrigued Governor asked.
“This information I’m relating comes from a very dependable source!” the older somewhat intoxicated brother attested.
“Does your inquisitive servant that had overheard the chatting have any wits about him?” Leonato wondered and challenged. “By that Brother I mean to say, is he’ mentally competent and a reliable but nosy individual?”
“He’s neither retarded nor a hallucinating alcoholic, that’s for damned sure!” the anonymous brother assured Leonato. “Do you want to interview and interrogate him? He’s just a tad incontinent!”
“No, let’s just be especially wary of tonight’s developments,” Leonato suggested. “But since everyone will be wearing costumes and masks at the big shindig we won’t be fuckin’ aware of anything that’s happening when it’s actually happening! But I intend to acquaint my daughter of this little tidbit of knowledge so that she’s prepared for Prince Don Pedro’s engagement proposal. Now please excuse me brother because I have to rummage around and locate some masking tape for my cardboard mask. The damned vizard is falling apart at the seams!”
“That’s why Hero and Don Pedro require the services of Antonio’s musicians tonight!” the older anonymous brother told Leonato. “Their melodious romance needs to get off to a harmonious start when Don Pedro makes his overtures to Hero! Ha, ha, ha!”
“I just remembered something significant!” Leonato confided to his older brother. “Your son Antonio was named after you! Your’ fuckin’ fucked-up name’s Antonio too! Ha, ha, ha!”
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Don John, who thought he was a Don Juan when he wasn’t foolishly impersonating the cad Casanova, was discussing some recent hot gossip with Conrade, his comrade. Now Don John was extremely jealous of his enterprising and successful brother Prince Don Pedro, who had recently stifled the revolution led by his younger very envious brother.
“Why are you so sad My Lord?” Conrade inquired. “Don John, did you just find-out that your first name is Donald?”
“No Asshole!” Don John curtly answered his pinheaded antagonist. “I’m pissed-off because Don Pedro gets all the acclaim and accolades while I’m permanently labeled ‘a bastard loser.’ I gotta’ create some mischief to embarrass my older brother and redeem some self-esteem from my hard-to-accept recent defeat. This fucked-up Sicily stopover was supposed to patch things up between Don Pedro and me but I’m still very resentful.”
“You’re a practical, ambitious and greedy man and that’s why I’m your loyal follower, confidante and comrade,” Conrade confirmed. “Your dismal fortunes are due for a change for the better. Don Pedro is bound to fuck-up somewhere along the line and then we can effectively capitalize on his failure.”
“I just don’t like all of this formal socializing bullshit that goes along with formal politics!” Don John complained. “I’m basically a meat and potatoes guy, do you understand Conrade? I don’t like fuckin’ small-talk, I don’t like frivolous jesting and joke telling and I can’t fuckin’ stand zany masquerades. They’re so goddamned juvenile that they make me want to become a delinquent!”
“Look Don John, there’re politics in any relationship so fuckin’ get used to it,” Conrade advised. “Any time two people have to live together one has to take charge and give instructions to the other, who naturally becomes the subordinate. That’s just the way human society is fuckin’ organized!” Conrade eloquently elaborated. “And since Don Pedro kicked your army’s ass in your unsuccessful revolt, European tradition dictates that you have to kiss-up to him, which I know you absolutely detest doing! But you’re lucky your older brother showed you clemency and didn’t have your ass hung at the gallows along with the rest of your body!”
“I’d rather be a thorn in a bush than be a rose in Don Pedro’s grace,” Don John intimated to Conrade, who really didn’t give a shit about his friend’s petty grievances. “If I could somehow bust his balls at tonight’s masquerade I feel that my need for vengeance would be satisfied. I mean look at it this way Conrade,” Don John emphasized. “Life would be too fuckin’ boring and tranquil to endure without a little villainy sprinkled-in now and then! I refuse to sing in Don Pedro’s cage like a trained obedient parakeet. Shit Conrade! I’m more rebellious now than I was when I was a fucked-up acne-faced hormone-driven teenager!”
“I see precisely what you mean, you mean-assed Bastard!” Conrade concurred. “Now if you were a legitimate son like Don Pedro was and is, your public credibility would be more legitimate too! Do I make any goddamned sense to you?”
“And that son-of-a-bitch Claudio and his dickhead buddy Benedick are in my brother’s good graces and now he favors those two Italian assholes over me!” Don John regretfully claimed. “And each of those bastards isn’t even a legitimate bastard like I am! Conrade, I need some creative ruse to pull-off at the masquerade tonight to get even with Don Pedro and with that parasitic scum wagon Claudio too!” Don John stated. “If only I was smart enough to scheme-up an imaginative trick to publicly humiliate both of those bastards that aren’t in reality true bona fide bastards!”
Borachio, another of Don John’s loser friends, entered the reception foyer and joined his disgruntled colleagues. Borachio brought some fascinating gossip to share.
“Ah Don John, I just scurried-out from the supper inside the palace to dispatch some fascinating news for you and Comrade Conrade,” Borachio related. “Oh, hi Conrade! I didn’t see you standing there even though sometimes I can’t stand you anywhere!”
“What’s the urgent news?” Don John impatiently asked Borachio. “Have you finally cured yourself of the three life-threatening venereal disease infections you’ve contracted over the years?”
“Very funny Boss!” Borachio rather negatively and quite unappreciatively exclaimed. “I learned at the dinner, which incidentally you two anti-social oddballs refused to attend, that Don Pedro is going to propose to Leonato’s daughter, I think her fucked-up name is Hero.”
“Are you shitting us?” Conrade asked. “That doesn’t sound plausible because Don Pedro eschews marriage, thinking that it’ll interfere with his military responsibilities and his political aspirations. You fellas’ must know that Don Pedro is like one of those new-fangled telescopes that Italian inventors are working on. Don Pedro definitely likes to stay focused!”
“Are you sure Borachio that this is accurate information you’re sharing?” Don John queried. “I mean, if it’s true it could possibly be a foundation to build some harmful mischief upon!”
“You silly sanctimonious jerk-offs didn’t allow me to finish my report!” Borachio chuckled, implying that there was more to the story than that which had already been disclosed. “Don Pedro will be in costume and doing a huge favor for Count Claudio, who doesn’t have the balls to ask Hero himself to marry him. And so, Don Pedro’s in-costume marriage proposal will be done as an exquisite consideration for that stupid-assed coward Count Claudio.”
“That Hero is a March chick and very much a spring chicken!” Don John enigmatically said. “I do believe that in the final analysis Count Claudio will be thoroughly henpecked! Borachio, how did you learn of that crazy scheme between Don Pedro and Claudio?”
“I was furtively hiding behind a pillar in the palace’s dining room and listened-in on their confidential communications,” Borachio laughed. “Perhaps I could be a gossip columnist in the local Messina gazette? Or maybe even a pillar of the community if not a goddamned pillar of strength! Ha, ha, ha!”
“Now then,” Don John interrupted Borachio’s self-entertainment levity, “besides being enamored with yourself my mentally challenged Friend, how could we use this asshole knowledge you’ve acquired to our own advantage? What unique problems and havoc could we cause? Will both of you assholes swear to assist me in ruining Count Claudio and Don Pedro’s reputations?”
“What the hell? Danger excites me! I’m game!” Conrade agreed.
“Shit yes!” Borachio pledged his allegiance without any damned national flag around. “To the death My Lord! Er, excuse me Don John. I meant that phraseology figuratively and not fuckin’ literally!”
“Good then! My appetite for social conviviality has been stimulated and revived!” Don John exuberantly stated (out of character). “Let’s form our alliance by joining hands, even if none of us are gay.”
“We’ll pretend that we know nothing, which shouldn’t be too hard to pretend!” Conrade ecstatically verified.
“Are you ready for some social ambiance Gentlemen? Let’s go to supper and find out what’s cooking!” Don John said and grinned. “I want to see if my older brother has too much on his plate, so to speak! Ha, ha, ha! Yes indeed, one’ must first be a trouble-finder before one can ever become an authentic troublemaker! Ha, ha, ha!”
Act II
Leonato was wondering why Count Don John hadn’t attended the feast in the palace’s dining chamber and discussed the matter with his brother Antonio, with Hero and with Beatrice, for indeed such a snub or such an oversight was socially unforgivable.
“Is Count Don John around to attend our masquerade and dinner?” Leonato curiously asked. “I haven’t seen hide nor hair of him’! Is he sick or is he indisposed in a courtyard outhouse?”
“I didn’t see the sullen fellow roaming around anywhere in the palace either!” Antonio (Leonato’s former anonymous older brother suffering from dementia and glaucoma) remembered and said. “He must wash his face in vinegar because even with my limited vision I can tell that that pathetic sucker really has a sour puss.”
“He surely must eat plenty of tarts because his face looks mighty tart all by itself,” the all-too-opinionated Beatrice piped-in. “Either that or Don John suffers from chronic heartburn and never swallows food but the guy always looks like something’s eating him!”
“He seems to be quite melancholy because his stomach looks like a melon and his dogface definitely resembles a collie,” Hero critiqued and added. “Now I’m sounding just like you Beatrice!”
“Don John is a laconic fellow and quite similar to that cryptic Benedick in that particular respect but he’s not half as charming and gregarious as Count Claudio of Florence,” Hero evaluated and remarked. “It might just be my vivid imagination and possibly my wrong impression but there’s something sinister and mysterious about Don John! Frankly the Spaniard gives me the creeps!”
“Yes, Don John is a cagey and strange non-exotic bird!” Governor Leonato uncharitably concurred. “Maybe he’s introverted and retreats into his shell like a turtle! But to me Don John looks too much like a pissed-off chicken who is too eager to fly the coop!”
“I believe Don John has lots of dough stashed away and I understand the gentleman’s a good dancer and could easily win any woman’s hand and the rest of her body too!” Beatrice verbally contributed. “If he were more social and garrulous Don John could quite possibly woo any woman. Perhaps he’s just shy or bashful about attending the masquerade bash, or maybe beneath that tough guy façade he’s gay and secretly despises the opposite sex?”
“My Niece, you’ll never land a husband with that sharp disobedient insubordinate tongue you possess and carelessly exercise! Don’t you ever get laryngitis?” Leonato reprimanded Beatrice. “There’s a lot more to this penis envy bullshit than meets the eye but quite apparently evades your lips too! Ha, ha, ha!”
“Yes my Daughter,” Antonio said in support of Leonato’s assertion. “You should learn courtesy and curtsy and forget all about this curt irresponsible bullshit you’re always expounding! If you want to find a man Beatrice, let’s say Count Benedick for instance’, learn to use your tongue in more advantageous ways. Some Northern Italian fellas’ like fellatio, you know!”
“This entire conversation really sucks!” the volatile and all-too-obnoxious Beatrice cynically exclaimed. “I’m not going to be on my knees every morning, every afternoon and every evening for the rest of my damned life giving head to the head of the household! I don’t even get on my damned knees to pray! Perhaps I’ll simply marry a libido-less eunuch so I don’t have to endure all of that marital wife submission shit!”
“That’s right!” Hero agreed in support of her talkative cousin. “If you marry a libido-less eunuch he won’t have a beard on his face or fur under his armpits or around his manhood and then my dear Beatrice you could avoid getting into hairy marital situations! Ha, ha, ha! I ought to do stand-up comedy! Ha, ha, ha!”
“There’s more to a man than sex!” Beatrice maintained. “If men didn’t have hair they would be more gentle and not act like primitive apes as they often do! Who the hell needs to be married to a hairy gorilla both in appearance and in disposition? Not me, that’s for goddamned sure!”
“If you despise all men then my Niece you’ll wind-up being eternally punished in Hell!” Leonato asserted. “That’s where all women who are spiteful towards men wind-up! Under Satan’s dominion Hell is just as chauvinistic as Earth, that’s what I believe.”
“And when I get to Hell the gatekeeper will probably tell me to visit St. Peter and give him some head to gain admission!” Beatrice disrespectfully articulated. “But instead I’ll tell the hog-headed keeper of the Pearly Gates to close his tired eyes and then I’ll methodically rub saltpeter on St. Peter’s peter and trick my way into Heaven without doing a damned trick for the dead pig chauvinist.”
“I don’t know what the hell to do with my rebellious daughter!” the beleaguered and about-to-die Antonio told Leonato. “She’s too old for a spanking even during S and M sessions. You’re very lucky my Brother that your’ gentle Hero is much more refined and cultured than my Beatrice is.”
“Your father speaks the truth!” Leonato reproached Beatrice. “Learn to keep your goddamned mouth shut in conversation with prospective suitors and then keep it open during kissing and during fellatio! Do you now understand how the male-dominated chauvinistic marital world works my Niece?”
“That’s exactly what I don’t need, to perform oral sex for the rest of my life!” Beatrice vehemently protested. “A big-dicked clod with three clodhoppers. Two at the bottom of his legs and the third either hanging or vertically erect between his ugly hairy thighs!”
“Now let’s get serious for a moment Ladies!” Leonato reminded his sometimes’ disobedient niece and daughter. “When Prince Don Pedro puts the make on you Hero, be cooperative and receptive! Now I’ll tell you a little secret my select friends. My treasury is dwindling down and I could use some new rich deep-pocketed son-in-law in the family to get me out of debt and back in the black!”
“Don’t judge a man by his dance moves or by his fancy moves in bed!” Beatrice warned Hero. “Judge a man by his compassion and by his generosity and by the size of his heart and not the size of his genitals! It’s hard to get screwed by a man’s loving heart!”
“Quiet Niece! Everyone put your masks on! Here comes the revelers now all in costumes and wearing hideous atrocious outfits!” Leonato rebuked Beatrice while coincidentally describing his invited guests. “Remember what you were told on how to use your mouth you recalcitrant little Bitch!”
Prince Don Pedro, Don John, Claudio, Benedick and their various attendants all entered the ballroom, which they all imagined was an enormous sex-orgy chamber where later on everyone would be balling. Don Pedro immediately recognized Hero by her physical build, by her gestures and by her position sitting next to unmasked Leonato and then the mannerly Prince impetuously asked the girl to dance before the merry musicians were even seated in their chairs with their instruments.
“Lady Hero, would you care to teach me some of your sophisticated and spectacular steps and moves?” the masked Don Pedro solicited. “I would love being your student!”
“You’re not supposed to know who the hell I am but regardless Sir, prepare for a tempest because I’m capable of dancing-up a storm!” Hero cleverly answered the masked Prince of Aragon.
“Well then, let’s not waltz around with words and let’s get the hell out on the dance floor, music or no damned music!” Don Pedro suggested. “Since there’s no carpet we can’t cut a rug but we’ll have to attempt cutting polished mahogany planks instead!”
In the meantime Benedick of Padua and Margaret (one of Hero’s boy-crazy attendants) were conversing and flirting, both wearing masks and costumes.
“Would you care to speak with me?” Benedick asked Margaret. “I’m basically a loner and by that I don’t mean that I lend people money! I have a self-confidence problem and low self-esteem.”
“Since you’re wearing a mask I don’t know your identity,” Margaret curiously replied. “I just hope that you’re a boner-fide male because I simply detest those hollow-weiners I’m always hearing about at various quilting bees all over Messina!”
“Sorry Madam, but I am a Halloweener and I practice the weird event every October 31st,” Benedick matter-of-factly related. “I suppose you’re not a whore and that I’m not going to be treated to a trick so please excuse me for wasting my time. I’ll just find another more cooperative damned woman to size-up and chitchat with!”
Ursula, another of Hero’s attendants, was waiting for some gentleman to ask her onto the dance floor. Antonio Junior, the head of orchestra arrangements (even though as has been established he didn’t know a damned thing about arranging or composing music) approached Ursula and initiated a dialogue.
“I know you by your distinctive walk and limp!” Ursula said with a degree of certainty. “You’re that despicable ornery brat Antonio! I had noticed your characteristic gait at the gate! I hope your pecker is not as limp as your flaccid right leg!”
“I’m not that rogue Antonio but am merely mimicking him to utterly fool you Young Lady!” Antonio deviously answered. “I figured that if I trick you I’d be rewarded with one of your tricks later this evening! We’ll do it a new novel way My Lady! We’ll both be wearing masks and won’t know who’ the hell we’re screwing! Doesn’t that sound rather enticing and intriguing?”
“Who the hell are you kidding you sperm-less impotent son-of-a-bitch!” Ursula verbally crucified her abhorrent pursuer. “Your hands feel as dry as an arid desert and obviously your palms are only good for jerking-off for hours on end without any tangible results. I can tell by the texture of your hands that your mediocre tube can only shoot air blanks and nothing more so I ask you, you impotent anonymous Asshole suffering from erectile dysfunction, why the hell are you wasting your time trying to hustle me? Go over to the goddamned head table and put the make on Governor Leonato!” Ursula sarcastically recommended as she briskly walked away from the astonished Junior Antonio.
Benedick then turned around and bumped into the now-masked Beatrice.
“Tell me who you are and I’ll tell you who I am,” Beatrice implored Benedick. “I don’t like this hidden identity charade business!”
“Bullshit you little anonymous Bitch! I play by the rules!” the impudent guest insisted. “There must always be rules whether in military strategy, in social engagement or in sexual intercourse!”
“I think you’re Count Benedick of Padua,” Beatrice theorized and stated. “You’re a dull Fool, indeed Prince Don Pedro’s appointed jester, I can tell by your uncoordinated gestures. Now then Count Benedick of Padua, I want you to know that I’m not a ship so whatever you do don’t try boarding me and I’m not a filly so don’t fuckin’ try mounting me? Got those explicit instructions Asshole?”
“I’ll convey your words of buffoonery to Benedick so that he’ll not approach you to dance and to later this evening screw the shit out of you,” Benedick coyly told Beatrice. “I’m sure that Benedick doesn’t have the slightest desire to shipwreck your maidenhead or to horse around in bed with you. There’re too many women at this masquerade fiasco interested in Count Benedick’s good firm dick besides you, you foul-mouthed filthy shut, whoever the hell you are!” Benedick berated his incognito critic. “You’re probably here on the dance floor searching for another perverted female to munch on her muffin! Cunnilingus seems to be more of your forte than fellatio! Now brazen Woman, leave me the hell alone you repulsive Bitch while I find a more affable and polite lady to converse with!”
In the meantime Don John was mentioning to Borachio how Don Pedro had been successfully putting the make on Hero in Count Claudio’s name when the disenchanted Florentine ambled over to stand next to them.
“Are you not Count Benedick of Padua?” Don John deliberately and falsely said to Claudio.
“You know who the fuck I am!” Claudio gruffly answered. “Stop breaking my vulnerable balls! I don’t need that kind of harassment this fine evening.”
“Look Claudio, let’s cut the extraneous crap!” Don John bluntly said. “I know for a fact that my brother is not wooing Hero on your behalf but he’s deliberately acting on his own behalf. Crafty Don Pedro wants to snatch her snatch from right under your nose using deceit and also your friendship as his conniving leverage. You’re being duped you naïve Dope, right before your very eyes!”
“How do I know that you’re not lying as is your bad habit?” Claudio nervously asked. “You’re notorious for your unscrupulous and disloyal behavior Don John. Your tarnished reputation glaringly precedes you! I would believe Judas Iscariot if he were still alive rather than place an ounce of credence in any word you might say!”
“Just an hour ago I heard Don Pedro swear his affection to Hero as he was speaking to his image in a mirror while shaving around his goatee,” Don John fibbed while sowing the seeds of jealousy in the vulnerable Claudio’s heart. “In fact according to his speech he plans to ask her to marry him tonight!”
“How do I know that you’re not full of shit like everyone says you are?” the now-worried Claudio challenged. “You’re a detestable cross between a villain and a scoundrel.”
“Come on Borachio!” Don John urged as he then ignored the disgruntled Claudio. “Let’s step over to the punch bowls and indulge in some delicious refreshments. Let’s leave this stupid asshole Count Claudio of Florence alone to contemplate his being snubbed, outsmarted and trumped! This repulsive loser deserves to be alone.”
“It’s time for the banquet feast to commence!” Borachio yelled on his empty stomach. “Fuck the punch bowl, even if it’s capable of achieving an orgasm!”
Claudio remained behind to ponder Don John’s recent revelations. ‘Don Pedro is really putting the make on Hero, and perhaps not on my behalf as he had promised! All hearts in love use their’ own tongues. What the fuck am I thinking? Hearts don’t fuckin’ have tongues! Anyway,’ Claudio continued his awesome bout with doubt, ‘farewell dear Hero now that Don Pedro is your hero. There must be at least a dozen other horny bitches here in this chamber that I’m interested in porking!’ Count Benedick came over and interrupted Claudio’s deep meditation just as Governor Leonato announced for everyone it was time to remove their’ masks.
“Well my friend Claudio, it looks like slick suave Don Pedro has pilfered the adorable Hero away from you!” Benedick observed and honestly said. “She’s swooned all over him but he’s still wearing his donkey mask to conceal his identity.”
“I wish them both joy in their budding romance!” Claudio reluctantly acknowledged. “But Don Pedro always swore to me that covetous materialistic women interfere with an ambitious man’s life and career. Now his emotional behavior is fuckin’ contradicting his own damned rational philosophy! The fellow’s a goddamned hypocrite, but don’t tell that vindictive Don Pedro I’ve said so.”
“Shit Claudio!” Benedick exclaimed. “Do you think that a Prince would ever voluntarily become a servant to a nimrod flunky like you? You’d probably buy St. Peter’s Basilica for a sixpence if I offered to sell it to you, you fucked-up gullible Fool!”
“Leave me the fuck alone to drown in my myriad miseries!” the chagrined Claudio balked to Count Benedick. “I’m so fuckin’ mad I feel like I’m going insane!”
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
“Signior Benedick, where’s your friend Count Claudio?” Prince Don Pedro asked through his bizarre-looking donkey mask. “Is he currently indisposed taking another of his legendary leaks or craps?”
“I’m afraid he’s at the shoemaker’s shop getting his broken heart mended!” Count Benedick answered in metaphor form. “Claudio believes that Lady Hero is swooning for you Don Pedro and quite candidly he’s given-up the hunt for that cunt! Claudio believes that he’s shown a beautiful bird’s nest to a trusted friend and now that friend wants to plant his bird inside Hero’s nest.”
“Well Benedick, I’ll patch things up in a jiffy between Count Claudio and Hero so that the Florentine could enjoy a nice quick jiffy lube,” Prince Don Pedro chuckled. “But I must tell you that there’s another looming love matter I wish to discuss.”
“I’m not a gay faggot and don’t wish to be homosexually solicited by you or by anyone else!” Benedick assumed and strenuously objected. “I fuckin’ hate sodomy and loathe the idea of being sodomized even more!”
“No you narrow-minded Dolt!” Prince Don Pedro rankled. “Here’s what I had meant to express. I’ve heard that Lady Beatrice has a quarrel with you. Someone that had danced with her related to me that she thinks you suck, when in fact, in a normal affair/relationship it’s the woman that should be doing the sucking!”
“That bitch Beatrice told me that I was the Prince’s jester and then she gave me an unwarranted immoral gesture with dual middle fingers!” Count Benedick confidentially divulged to Don Pedro. “Her belligerent words were like sharp piercing daggers that wounded my pride! I’m so fuckin’ burned-up that I absolutely think she speaks with a dragon’s flaming breath’! That nasty bitch must piss magma and shit lava! If she sucked Satan’s dick the damned thing would no doubt instantly become sizzling volcanic rock!”
“Look Benedick!” Don Pedro pointed out. “Here comes Lady Beatrice walking this way real straight as if she has three thick broomsticks stuck up her ass!”
“Please Don Pedro, send me to fetch you a toothpick in Mongolia or a sanitary napkin somewhere in deepest Africa,” Count Benedick pleaded. “Send me as an emissary to the Watusi and Pygmy tribes or even as an envoy to the fierce Zulus! I don’t want to be maligned again by that foul-mouthed little swarthy-skinned Sicilian bitch! You be the one to talk to that scathing spitfire! I’m getting the fuck away from here even if I non-intentionally incur your terrible wrath!”
Count Benedick quickly meandered to the other side of the dining hall while Prince Don Pedro confronted Lady Beatrice, who was thinking about how she was going to accost and thoroughly badmouth the fleeing Benedick.
“Lovely Young Lady, I believe that you’ve lost the heart of Sir Benedick,” Don Pedro said from behind his donkey mask.
“If I had his damned stone heart to lose I’d throw it into Mt. Etna’s erupting crater!” Beatrice adamantly protested. “That caustic prick has really abused me. I resent his perpetual abrasive rancor.”
“Don’t put Benedick down too hard!” the suave Prince persuasively replied through his grotesque-looking mask. “His psyche’s much more delicate than you think and you could shatter his fragile crystal-like confidence if you denigrate him.”
“I prefer being with Count Claudio whom you’ve advised me to see,” Beatrice answered the Prince despite his wearing his mask. “There he is now. Claudio! Come over here!” beckoned Leonato’s mouthy niece. “Come and join Don Pedro and me even though we don’t need to be connected.”
“Claudio, why do you look so disconsolate inside this consulate?” Don Pedro asked. “Governor Leonato would not like your very evident inconsolable and despondent disposition. Are you tired? Are you ill? Do you feel like you’re full of shit?”
“If you want to know I’m sick and tired of all this love and romance bullshit!” Claudio uttered with despair laden in his defeated tone of voice. “I’m pissed-off because I feel like I’m being pissed on! I feel betrayed by all this fucked-up nonsense going on!”
“Have no fear because Don Pedro’s here!” the Prince reassured the very leery Count. “Now then you sorrowful weeping willow, I’ve wooed Hero in your’ name and her heart’s been won. Don’t pay attention to what any pessimists or negative nay-sayers have told you! And Governor Leonato has preliminarily blessed your marriage too. There’s that old son-of-a-bitch over there now! Hey Governor, A moment of your time please!” Then Don Pedro said to Hero’s cousin, “Isn’t what I’ve just told Count Claudio true Lady Beatrice?”
“Most certainly!” Beatrice anxiously confirmed. “I don’t want any part of any man, especially the notorious things dangling between their legs. But more to your point Don Pedro, Hero has told me that you Count Claudio have won her heart without it ever being in any goddamned raffle or lottery. And as for you Prince Don Pedro,” Beatrice said, “you can take your mask off because everyone’s figured out who the hell you are by the process of elimination.”
“I’m good at matchmaking!” Don Pedro bragged through his hideous-looking donkey mask. “I’ll use my renowned influence and get you a husband if that’s your pleasure, Lady Beatrice.”
“Well then Don Pedro, how about marrying me!” Beatrice said calling the Prince’s bluff. “Why not propose to me right this very moment? I happen to like rich Spaniards!”
“I’m sorry beautiful Beatrice, but a good General such as myself must first marry off all of his Lieutenants so that they pose no imminent threat to my authority,” Don Pedro awkwardly explained. “They’ll be too busy pumping beaver and have no significant energy left to conduct daring mutinies. Rule number one of being a successful tyrant is keeping all of your subordinates subordinate.”
“You’ve not only deflated my ego Don Pedro but I do believe you’ve deflated my tits and punctured my erect nipples too!” Beatrice feigned sulking. “I feel like seeking-out the nearest corner and crying my eyes out! Who the hell needs an asshole for a husband when I already have my own damned asshole to shit out of!”
Governor Leonato finished his social conversation with several distinguished ambassadors and sauntered over to where Claudio, Beatrice and Don Pedro were bantering.
“Ah Beatrice, don’t forget to look after those items and details we had discussed earlier!” Leonato reminded his niece.
“Certainly Uncle!” the independent-minded young lady tersely replied. “I’ll have to look into them before I can look after them! Excuse me kind Sirs. I must attend to some impending business.”
After Beatrice scurried away, Don Pedro, Claudio and the Governor all cordially discussed Beatrice and then comprehensively reviewed recent developments.
“Your phenomenal niece is quite a spirited young lady!” Don Pedro noted. “Her acerbic tongue is sharper than my trusty sword. Maybe I should hold and swing her while fighting an adversary.”
“Beatrice is a confirmed bachelorette even though she hasn’t been baptized yet!” Leonato joked. “She’s eternally happy avoiding and shunning male companionship. I’ve long suspected that she’s a dyke, but of course, that opinion is only my random conjecture.”
“Yes, she doesn’t want to think about a husband or even about animal husbandry,” Don Pedro contributed to the discussion. “Beatrice seems content to mock all wooers. I do believe that she’d make an excellent spouse for that louse Benedick.”
“Tomorrow Hero and I can go to the church to confer with the priest,” Claudio declared with his spirits suddenly buoyed. “We must receive our first rites before ever being eligible for our last rites!”
“Yes, but it’s the custom here in Messina to wait a full week between the announcement of an engagement and an actual marriage,” Leonato interrupted Claudio. “In that time you and my daughter can determine if you two are indeed suited for each other, whether or not you’ll wear each other’s clothes and try cross-dressing without twisted crucifixes dangling from your necks.”
“Don’t worry Claudio, here’s my infallible plan,” Don Pedro shared with the Count and with Governor Leonato. “A week is all the time I’ll need to successfully bring Count Benedick and Lady Beatrice together in Holy Matrimony. We’ll then have a dual ceremony with you Claudio and Hero and Count Benedick and Lady Beatrice getting married, not all four of you to each other, but, well Gentlemen, you understand what the fuck I mean!” Don Pedro chuckled. “But I’ll need the indispensable cooperation of you two accomplices to satisfactorily engineer this very special project.”
“I’ll be glad and eager to get rid of that trash-talking little bitch!” Leonato said about his niece Beatrice. “Don Pedro, I’ll even get Hero to participate in your noteworthy scheme.”
“We’ll have to humor Beatrice into marrying Count Benedick,” the Prince gleefully stated. “Let me tell you honorable Men my plan. And you won’t need any walls of snow to understand my drift!”
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Don John was completely discouraged and irritated that his scheme to derail the marriage of Claudio and Hero had failed. He shared his animosity about his disappointment with his close ally Borachio, who patiently listened to Don John’s frustration.
“That shrewd shit-head brother of mine has fuckin’ foiled me without even using a fencing class saber,” Don John bitched (even though he was a certified bastard). “Count Claudio and Hero are getting married but we still have a full week to cleverly upset their applecart.”
“Yes Don John, the two of us can collaborate and double-cross them without even using crucifixes blessed by the island’s bishop!” Borachio assented. “Holy Shit, I’m almost as destructive as you are!”
“Well then you incompetent but imaginative Nincompoop, how can we interfere?” Don John insisted on learning. “Give me a suitable covert foolproof strategy to make my all-too-perfect brother look like a complete asshole for Governor Leonato and all of Messina to see, denounce and ridicule.”
“Well now Don John, don’t get your farty bowels in an uproar. We’re in Italy and not France so there’s no need to have a French hemorrhage either,” Borachio counseled his nefarious and bitter friend. “I’ll think of something drastic to fuck-up their relationship.”
“Just give me a blueprint or else I’ll make your ugly face into a black and blue print!” Don John threatened Borachio as he demonstrated a menacing strangle-gesticulation. “I’ll squeeze the fuckin’ air right out of your windpipe until you literally get all-choked-up and vomit your fuckin’ lungs out.”
“Listen Don John, Hero’s attendant, a woman named Margaret has the hots for me and would do anything I’d ask her to do just to win my favor,” Borachio confided. “I’ll simply request that she imitate Hero standing in front of her Mistress’s bedroom window.”
“That’s the most lousy dumb asinine horseshit I’ve ever heard!” Don John snapped. “A tiny retarded dung beetle has more of an imagination than you do!”
“Your impulsiveness has not allowed me sufficient time to finish describing my glorious creative prank,” Borachio corrected his insidious chum. “Listen closely Don John. At precisely nine o’ clock when Lady Hero usually takes her bath, and I’ve learned this pertinent shit from being a Peeping Borachio and not a goddamned Peeping Tom,” Borachio qualified, “at nine o’clock every evening Lady Hero takes her private bath. Now you get Don Pedro to accompany you below her window while I sneak into Lady Hero’s suite and start making out with Margaret, who’ll be dressed in Lady Hero’s clothes. The visual impression received will be that Lady Hero is having an affair with me. Don Pedro will then try and sabotage the wedding to protect his favorite buddy Count Claudio.”
“That’s a great ruse, you disingenuous genius!” Don John commended the always-scheming Borachio. “But it must work better than your first deceptive trick at the masquerade that fizzled-out before it could ever backfire. Don Pedro and I will be nonchalantly strolling through the palace garden….”
“And then Don Pedro will be absolutely mortified upon witnessing the undeniable infidelity-in-progress first hand!” Borachio finished Don John’s thought. “And then you could use the trick romantic interlude to justify and support other lies, namely that Hero’s plotting with an anonymous person to have Leonato assassinated. Don Pedro won’t want any part of either scandal!”
“Well Borachio, let’s focus on the first part of your mendacious subterfuge!” Don John said. “How shall we fuckin’ enact it?”
“Go to Don Pedro and tell him you wish to protect his integrity and his public honor,” the dastardly Borachio related to the equally villainous Don John. “Then just before nine o’clock the two of you will be ambling through the garden directly below Hero’s window. In the meantime I will have convinced Margaret of her seemingly innocent involvement by telling her that I’d like to see her wearing Lady Hero’s dress and then I’ll start kissing her passionately. You, being an alert and discerning individual,” Borachio lectured his idol Don John, “will notice the immoral irregularity and report it to Don Pedro, who will witness the stunning staged event that’ll not be happening in any goddamned dramatic theater. In my heart Don John, I always wanted to be a thespian just like that bisexual jerk-off Count Claudio always desired being a freakin’ lesbian! Ha, ha, ha!”