Angel: “So who gets the first prompt?”
Demon: “Hell, be my guest.”
Angel: “Demon, are you pouting?”
Demon: “I hate that bitch, Randy. I don’t want to work with him.”
Angel: “It will be okay, Demon. I’m sure he will be reasonable. I mean he’s harmless, just all talk. As RB said, he’s just random information-”
Randy: “To be, or not to be. That is the question.”
Angel: “Excuse me, what?”
Randy: “That’s the writing prompt. Like it?”
Demon: “Whoa! I got this!!”
Angel: “I thought you hated Shakespeare?”
Demon: grinning devilishly, he rubs his hands together. “Oh I do. I so do. As much as I hate Randy. MUWAHAHAHAHA!!”
Angel: “Uh, oh…”
The man was dead. Beyond dead. And yet Mr. Randy and every other bitch English Lit teacher decided that Shakespeare was classic. Classic! If he was so classic, couldn’t they translate his work into modern language for people like myself to read him.
“To be, or not to be, that is the question…” I began to recite Hamlet from the text as instructed by the Ancient Fart Mr. Randy, who sat at the front of the class peering over his glasses at me while the rest of the class loomed quiet over their own books. Henry kept sneaking looks back at me, knowing the peace was about to shatter. “Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer… as I am suffering now.” The snickers were soft at first, “The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing end them: to die, to sleep… To die. Please kill me now,” I sigh as more snickering came.
“Mr. Stevenson?” Mr. Randy’s voice cut in with a warning.
Oh, hell no! The old shit couldn’t steal this from me. No, no, this close-to-dust teacher gave me this lame assignment knowing I hated Shakespeare, thus, I was going to take the opportunity to show him the error of his damn ways.
“Sorry, Mr. Randy. Let me do Shakespeare justice.” I cleared my throat, raised one hand and as if conducting an orchestra I sang loudly, “Gotta put my back into it!” I rotated my shoulders before the dramatization commenced, “No more; and by a sleep, to say we end the heartache, and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to? ‘Tis a consummation devoutly to be wished. To die to sleep,” I pointed to Veronica and pressed my hand over my chest. “Oh, I die to sleep with you Veronica! Flesh to my flesh,” Her cheeks flushed red. “To sleep, perchance to dream,” He winked at Sara, “To dream of sleeping with you Sara,” Of course Sara rolled her eyes. “Aye, there’s the rub, for in that sleep of death, what dreams may come, when we have shuffled off this mortal coil,” When I grabbed my crotch, the class roared with laughter.
Mr. Randy stood to his feet and pointed to the door. “Get out Mr. Stevenson!”
Dropping the book, I bowed, then took my exit. Stage left. Not only did I not have to look at that boring ass Mr. Randy, I no longer had to read more from the classic dead man. Again, I triumphed to be or not to be… in that class.
Demon: “THE END!”
Randy: “Hey, that’s not nice!”
Angel: “Yes, well, you wanted this job, so now you have to endure what I endure. Welcome Mr. Random Ness.”