Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo?


Aside: Boy, this new playwright really cuts to the chase. Shakespeare didn't let Juliet pop that question until Act II.

I'm right down here, babe, under your balcony.


No, WHEREFORE art thou, Romeo? WHEREFORE?!


WHEREFORE? I say again, I'm right here!




No, silly boy: Wherefore means WHY?


Oh, right. I knew that.


Deny thy father and refuse thy name.
Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,
And I'll no longer be a Capulet.


Say the word, and I'll disown the old bugger on the spot. Mind you, he is rather rich, so weigh your words accordingly.


I mean, what's Montague, after all?


Exactly. (Ha! "Montague"!)


It is not hand, nor foot, nor arm, nor face.


Right. Nor chin, nor ribcage, nor bellybutton. Why, it's not even a -- well, you get the idea.


O, be some other name
Belonging to a man.


Uh, maybe we should talk inside. I am in enemy territory, you know?


What's in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other word would smell as sweet.


Indeed. You know, I think I hear somebody coming, dearest. Um...


So Romeo would, were he not Romeo called,
Retain that dear perfection which he owes
Without that title.


Uh, dearest --






Check out the new Shakespeare Picture Quiz -- new questions to be added soon...











Romeo, doff thy name, And for thy name, which is no part of thee, take all myself.


Say no more: Your wish is my command. Now throw down the rope ladder and we can cinch the deal in the comfort of your own castellated abbey.


Oh, fie! But art thou not Romeo and a Montague?


Well, technically speaking, maybe...


How cam'st thou hither, tell me, and wherefore?


Well --


Wherefore meaning "WHY," of course.


Okay, don't rub it in --
-- dearest.


The orchard walls are high and hard to climb,
And the place death, considering who thou art,
If any of my kinsmen find thee here.


Hello? That's why I've been begging you to throw down the rope ladder for the last half-hour, ya knucklehead. Now, please!


Oh, right. Let me see... Now, where did I put that rope ladder...


Oh, never mind: I'd better "book it," as they say.


Just a mo, darling: I'm sure it's here somewhere... I've really got to clean this place up someday!


No, that's okay. I've got an appointment with Friar Lawrence tonight anyway. I'm told he's Verona's go-to man for anybody contemplating elopement.


Elopement, huh? Elopement with ME, I trust.




Cross my heart, and hope to get the heck out of Dodge before that pesky Paris shows up.


Oh, sugar foot! Well, okay, then, Romeo: In that case, and I quote:

Good night, good night. Parting is such sweet sorrow
That I shall say good night till it be morrow.


Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast.
Would I were sleep and peace, so --

Oh, HI, Paris, what brings you here, my friend?
Well, well, Paris... Smith, is it?




No, Jones: Paris Jones, right?



Romeo!


That's my name: don't wear it out.


How now?


I'm just taking a walk: care to join me?


Well, I --


What a pity. Some other time, then. Uh, yes, Lady Juliet, tell Lady Capulet that I will be glad to mow her lawn this weekend as she requested.


Mow her lawn?


Yes, can you imagine? I was inadvertently walking by Juliet's house here tonight, on my way to the local sette undici for a sixpack, and before I know it, they've offered me work (the Capulets, I mean, not the convenience store). But then so much of life is about being in the right place at the right time, don't you agree?




NOW I remember: You're an Oxenhoofer, right? Paris Aloysius Oxenhoofer III!


Beat it, Romeo!


Bumgardner: Paris Bumgardner.


En garde!


Fine! I know when I'm not wanted! Humph! I have a good mind to tell Father Lawrence on you, Paris, for this unChristian attitude of yours.


And stay away from Juliet!


That cinches it, dude: I'm gonna tell!


Why, you --



That's it, keep talking: You're just making it worse for yourself. I'm gonna give yon ghostly friar a full dossier on your evidently fathomless wickedness now!


Come back here, you --


Fathomless wickedness, that is. Later, Jules baby!


Jules baby? What says't thou, Romeo!?



Paris is a meany, I'm gonna tell, Paris is a meany, I'm gonna tell!







The grey-eyed morn smiles on the frowning night,
Checking the eastern clouds with streaks of light,
And fleckled darkness like a drunkard reels
From forth day's path and Titan's fiery wheels.
Now ere the sun advance --


Hope I'm not interrupting anything.


What? Oh, Romeo!


Good morrow, father.


No, I was just right in the middle of my most famous lines in the whole play, that's all.


Come again, daddy-o?



Never mind, my child.


Jeez, it's like a regular druggist shop in here. Hmm. What's this?


Oh, careful, my child! Within the infant rind of this weak flower, Poison hath residence -- along with medicinal power, of course.


Of course.


But, Young Son, it argues a distempered head
So soon to bid good morrow to thy bed.


Well, you see --


Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye,
And where care lodges, sleep will never lie.


True enough. Still --


But where unbruis-ed youth with unstuffed brain
Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth reign.


Hey, whaddya mean, 'unstuffed brain'? With all due respect, your Holiness, my brain is plenty stuffed, thank you very much, on account of I graduated Verona Elementary School last year with flying colors!




Black and blue, I shouldn't wonder, thanks to all the enemies that you made there.


Can I help it if half the school -- students AND staff included -- was made up of Capulets!


It's a scandal, that's what it is. You should have reported any and all that bullying to the school principal!


What, to Principal Reginald P. Capulet, you mean? No, thank YOU. He was strict enough with his own Capulet kids -- He'd no doubt resort to blunt force trauma with us Montagues.


God pardon sin!





Well? Can I get a witness here or not?



What's that? Oh, yes, Friar Lawrence, amen to that. God pardon sin, indeed. Whoa, dude, is this a mandrake root?!


Speaking of sin, my child, wast thou with Rosaline?


With Rosaline, my ghostly father? Excuse me while I spew! No, I have forgot that name and that name's rue.


Now you're talking! But where hast thou been?


I have been feasting with mine enemy.


Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift.
Riddling confession finds but riddling shrift.


How much plainer can I be? Someone has wounded me that is by me wounded.


No, sorry: I still don't get it.



Oh, Friar, don't you see:
My heart's dear love is set
On the fair daughter of rich Capulet!!!!


Homina Homina Homina! As in Great Caesar's ghost, already! What a change is here! A 360-degree u-ee, i'faith! Is Rosaline, that thou didst love so dear, So soon forsaken?


Well, it was a bunch of small things really, but they added up.


How now?


Like, for example, I noticed today at lunch: she always scrapes her silverware against her teeth whenever she takes a bite of food -- or even a sip of soup.


Oh, don't you hate that? My brother-in-law does that and it drives me straight up the abbey wall! Brrrr! Still, you know what they say, Romeo: Women may fall when there's no strength in men.


Meaning?


I'm not sure, exactly, but it was the first even remotely relevant citation that popped into my head.


Oh, you!


Well, at least you don't want to run straight off and marry this other girl. Um, it is a GIRL, isn't it, Romeo?


Very funny, Friar Lawrence: Yes, it is a girl, oddly enough. Humph!


Sorry, Romeo: I couldn't resist.


And yes, I do want to marry her stat.


'Stat,' my child?


As in double-time, Friar. As in yesterday, even! Now, seriously: You gotta help me!


In one respect I'll thy assistant be;
For this alliance may so happy prove
To turn your households' rancor to pure love.


Yes! That's what I'm talkin' about now! Now let us hence!


Let us hence what?


Let us GO hence! Oh, you know what I mean!


Wisely and slow; they stumble that run fast.



And they that park and idle run out of gas!







Right. Where is that Romeo character, then?


He's not at his old man's place, I can tell you that.



Aww! Romeo's in love, Romeo's in love!




What say ye?


Don't tell me you hadn't heard yet: It's all over Verona: Rosaline and the Rome-meister are...
...an item! (Tee-hee-hee!)


Oh, don't be silly. Romeo doesn't have time for love: Right now he's got his hands full with a challenge from one of the Capulet boys -- what's-his-name, Tybalt, I believe his name is.


Tybalt? Good God, man, our lovelorn homeboy is in no condition to accept a duel with the Prince of Kitty Cats.


The what?


. Why is not this a lamentable thing Grandsire, that we should be thus afflicted with these strange flies:


Strange flies, Mercutio? Whatever do you mean?


You know: these fashion Mongers, these par-
don-mee's, who stand so much on the new form, that they
cannot sit at ease on the old bench. O their bones, their
bones.


Oh, look:

Here comes Romeo, Here comes Romeo...




...right down Capulet Lane.


What's shaking, G.?


Check it out: It's Romeo without his roe -- like a dryed herring! (Get it? Roe as in Rosaline, but Roe also as in fish eggs? Tee hee hee!)


Shut it, Mercutio.


Ooh, sorry.


I want to talk with my Main man here, Romeo! What up?!


Good morrow to you both.


Good morrow? I haven't checked my calendar lately, but I do believe it's still TODAY, Romeo, and not yet tomorrow.


Well, one can't expect the Rome-meister to keep track of the days when he's so much in looooove! (Tee-hee-hee! Nah-nah-nah-nah-nah, Romeo's in love!)


Oh? And do you have a problem with that, Mercutio?


Easy dawg, I'm just saying --


Well, you've got to admit, dude, you were better company when you were on the wagon viz-a-viz the fair sex.


I didn't hear that.


I said: YOU WERE BETTER COMPANY WHEN YOU WERE ON THE WAGON VIZ-A-VIZ THE FAIR SEX.


Much obliged, Benvolio: That time I made out every single word.


Oh, look, here comes Nurse Goodbody.








A fan, Peter, a fan!


Yes, indeed, Peter, a fan so that she can hide her gorgonic mug. Mercy on me, what an ugly crone!


God ye good morrow, gentlemen.


God us good morrow? Would you listen to that, Romeo? She just godded us good morrow?


Yeah, what's the idea, nursie baby: It's good DEN now!


Good den is it? Huh. I must have forgotten to set my sundial.




It's good den, all right, old girl, because -- and I quote: 'The bawdy hand of the dial is now upon the prick of noon.'


I must warn you, Mercutio, that I'm carrying a can of mace today and I'm not above spraying it in the face of naughty Verona youths.


Okay, well, if I can think of any naughty youth in our notoriously moralistic Verona (land of brotherly love, don't ya know?), I'll be sure to give you their latest GPS coordinates.


Latest GPS -- Why, I never --


Never mind Mercutio: He was born that way.


Well! If I can't be loud, obnoxious and vulgar all at the same time, then I see little point in remaining here.


Good riddance, then.


Mind you, it's your loss: I was just going to recite the most comical couplet in which I make a hilarious pun out of the word "hoar," using it first to mean "withered and old," as in h-o-a-r, and then to mean a "lady of the night," as in w-h-o-r-e.


Well, beat it then, because I'm increasingly ready to spray y-o-u with m-a-c-e.


Okay, don't have a hissy fit, Broomhilda. Romeo, I'll meet you at your father's house for dinner.


Word.


Gee, I wonder what sort of pasta your old lady is serving TONIGHT?!


It's a free meal for you, Mercutio, so don't knock it.


Oh, no. I'm just sayin'...


Anyway, it's Thursday, so in answer to your question, that would be... let's see... fettucine alfredo, I believe.


Fettucine alfredo? Didn't we have that last night?


No, that was veal parmesan.


That was VEAL? Huh. NOW they tell me.


Am-scray, wise guy. It looks like Cleopatra here has an itchy trigger finger.


Ay, Mercutio, I have a -- a -- what HE said.


All right, hold on to your beard, old woman!


Well, I never!





Don't worry, Nurse: I got that rascal's license plate number: It was K-I-C-K M-E. Get it? K-I-C-K M-E? "Kick me"?


License plate number, Romeo? Why, I --


There was also a 1-800 number on the back of his shirt beneath the words "How do you like my teasing" -- I'll recite it to you if you'd like to call and report him on some hypothetical mobile phone.


Oh, you are witty, my child -- if somewhat confusingly anachronistic. What sayst thou of "license plates," "1-800 numbers" and "mobile phones"?


I've got this sort of mystical gift, Nursie baby: You know how some people see dead people -- well, I see latent technologies.


Oh, really? Can you perhaps also see one's personal future?


Well, I --


What's in the cards for me, for instance?


Uh --


Will I live long, think you?


Well, it's too late to do otherwise, I should think.


How's that?


Oh, but don't worry: You've got plenty of mileage on that old skeleton of yours.


Wha--


You'll probably cling to life for years --


Cling to life? You sure I'm not destined to "live life to its fullest" or something a little more cheery like that?


Mind you, your life could be unexpectedly foreshortened, but only if some extremely improbable and tragic event engulfed you in these twilight years of yours.


Tragic event?


Well, say, for instance, that you failed at the laudable goal of facilitating the upcoming marriage of myself and Juliet.


Aye, what then?


True, that might not kill you in and of itself, but... Well, what if I then went on to attempt suicide over this hypothetical flub-up of yours, say by drinking poison, and then Juliet, thinking me dead, commits her own particular suicide?


Her own particular suicide?


And then -- again, for the sake of argument -- I might, say, wake up and realize that I've failed to kill myself but that she, poor creature, really truly is dead -- in which case I'd inevitably do something rash, like kissing her now-probably highly poisonous lips, until, voila: Goodbye, Romeo!


Oh, heavens.


I can see the funeral now: They'd call in an outside preacher who would give the community a graveside lecture about the folly of busybody adults intervening in the amatory affairs of youngsters.


Oh, dear.


Then all eyes would naturally turn toward you and the Friar, and your lives would not be worth the skeletons that they were printed on, so to speak.




Fortunately, that's an almost impossible scenario, however, involving the enactment of such a nonstop string of wild improbabilities that even the greatest playwright alive could not render them plausible (especially in the eyes of the notoriously jaded theater-goer of 16th-century Europe).





What a thought! Well, god you good day, then. (What a depressing thought!)


Wait a minute, nurse: Don't god me good day yet: You still haven't told me why you came to see me in the first place!




Oh, yes: Well, no wonder I forgot, young man, and you telling me all these stories about poisonous lips and I don't know what-all.


Well?


It's nothing, really: It's just that Juliet wants me to make sure that you're not, well, playing her for a fool, so to speak.


Let's see, am I playing her for the fool: Let me think a minute... Okay, I've got your answer, nurse:


You don't mind if I record this, do you, Romeo?


I don't mind at all -- But what have you go there. An mp3 recorder? I've got to hand it to you, Nursie baby: You really go out of your way to acquire the latest technology. Fancy having an mp3 recorder in late-16th-century Verona!


Okay, whenever you're ready, Romeo. This is the nurse Goodbody, I'm speaking with Romeo near Friar Lawrence's dank cell on... Let's see, it's Tuesday, the 23rd of March, 1599. Romeo, I will repeat the question: For the record, are you or are you not playing Juliet for a fool by merely pretending to be in love with her -- while in reality all you want is, well, AHEM, sexual gratification, really?


Are you sure that's the same simple question that you asked me before you hit the record button? It sounds like the proposition just got dicier -- I don't mind you making this game tough, Nurse, but I do object to you moving the playing field like this.


Just answer the question, my child.


I, Romeo P. Montague III, do hereby state and affirm that I am crazy about the said Juliet P. Capulet and that...


Yes, please continue: And? And?


Oh....
And I suppose that my love is not entirely 100% about sex, either.


Well, she'll be glad to hear that.


Hey, listen, nurse: I've lived almost 15 long years now in this life of mine: I think I know the difference between love and lust, thank you very much.


You've got a point there.


What? Oh, dear, how embarrassing. I was just thinking about Juliet, I'm afraid, Nurse. She is rather comely, you know.


Boy, I ought to wash that Montague mouth of yours out with some good old-fashioned Veronese bath oil beads.


Hey, listen, you're the one that -- ahem! -- brought the subject up, shall we say, Nurse?


Oh, fie upon you! "Brought the subject up," indeed! Oh, fie!


Or was it Juliet who -- ahem! -- gave rise to these emotions in me?


Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art you such a potty mouth all of the sudden?! Boy, this is neither meet nor seemly!


I'm sorry, Nurse: I've been hanging around old Motor-Mouth too long, I'm afraid.


Aye, that Mercutio character is a bad influence on you.


Too true, too true.


I can only hope that Juliet with all her (God help us) 17 years of wisdom or so will be able to make an honest man out of you yet.


How can she fail: between the two of us, we've got over 30 years under our admittedly slim belts in the way of life experiences.


That's what I'm afraid of.


What's that, Nursie?


Never mind. I will tell Juliet what you said -- and play the mp3 of the conversation for her listening convenience.


MP3? Isn't that pushing it in the chronological continuity department.


You're one to talk, Mr. "I see latent technologies" Montague.


Fair cop.


Fair what?


Oh, I almost forgot: Tell Juliet to haul her Elizabethan --


How say you?


I mean, tell Juliet to meet me tomorrow at Friar Lawrence's all-night pharmacy -- where we are going to plight some serious troth!




Wait a minute, let me record that, too.


Sorry, I've got to run now. Be sure to commend me to thy lady.


That we will, my child.


Now I'll just make like a hockey puck and...


A 'hockey puck,' Romeo? Why...




Peter! (Where did that boy go now?!) Peter! (Oh, there you are.) Take my fan, stupid. Jeepers. (Quick: Don't make me box you on those big ears of yours!) And then take me straight to Mercutio's mother! I'm going to tell on him now for calling me an ugly old crone! Crone, indeed. I'll crone him!








The clock struck nine when I did send the nurse;
In half an hour she promised to return.
Perchance she cannot meet him: that's not so.
O, she is lame! love's heralds should be thoughts --


Cut! Sorry, Jules, but you're getting a little long-winded there for modern attention spans.


But --


Oi, buster, let her speak: I've got some great lines coming up.


Sorry, old girl, we really need to move it along here.



Unbelievable. Wait till I get my agent on the phone. I'm union labor, you know!


Okay, look, Bella, pick it up at "Then hie you hence to Friar Lawrence's cell." That's a nice line for you.


But you're skipping all the way to the end of Act III!


Understudy! Somebody get me the Nurse's understudy.


Okay, fine, I'll do it! (mumbling)


And... action!


Then hie you hence to Friar Lawrence's cell;
There stays a husband to make you a wife.


And cut! Good job, people! We're back in 10 in Friar Lawrence's cell.


What about "the wanton blood" in Juliet's cheeks?


What about it?



Nothing. It's just that you cut out six of my best lines, starting with:

Now comes the wanton blood up in your cheeks...


Understudy!


Oh, never mind. (mumbling)








Where is Old Capulet?


I see him over there by the candy machine.


Give him a shout, would you? He needs to give his daughter away in the wedding scene.


Yo, Stedman: Hie thee hither, babe, stat -- oh, and could you bring me a Diet Coke while you're at it? Thanks. No, not Coke Zero: DIET Coke.


Now then, Mercutio, you're the best man.


Best man? I thought I got killed in advance of the nuptials.


If I needed somebody to think, I would have hired a brain in a vat.




Ah, but as the ultimate skeptic Rene Descartes would have responded: How do you know that I'm NOT a brain in a vat? Haha!


That's easy: brains in a vat do NOT get paid overtime.


That's proof positive, all right, because I always get paid overtime: It's right here in my contract.


Lady Capulet, take a seat down front.

All right, people, we're picking it up in Saint Peter's Church, Friar Lawrence presiding.

Cue the Bridal Chorus on pipe organ...


But the work in question won't even be written until the 19th century!


Somebody get me the understudy for the organist part.


All right, already, I'll play the Bridal Chorus, okay? Are you happy?


Wait a minute, where am I?


Oh, yes, good question. Let's see, Romeo, you'd be up at the altar with our man of divinity, looking back toward the nave in eager anticipation of the arrival of your dearly beloved, read Julia. Speaking of which, where is Jules and her old man? They should already be in position back there in that aforementioned nave.


And where are we?


Come on, people: Do I have to spell out everything for you guys?


Well, if you wanted us to think, you would have hired brains in a vat, remember?


Very funny, wise guy. Look, it's very simple: Capulets on the left side of the church and Montagues on the right.




That's right, Nurse, you're with the Capulet contingent. Take the pew BEHIND Lady Capulet. You two aren't on the best of terms, you know. Besides, she clearly doesn't consider you her equal.



I should think not, Ruth.


Shut it, Marjorie.


Time is money, folks, let's move it.

Pipe organ, ready?

Cue the Bridal Chorus...

And action!

That's it, Old man Capulet strolls up the aisle, nodding his hoary locks.


Hoary locks? I thought I was a rather youngish father of the bride.


I repeat: nodding his hoary locks...



Oh, very well.


Where is makeup? I expect hoarier locks than that on our next run-through!

That's it: dum-dum-dee-dum...

Juliet, how about a smile from you, my dear: half-bashful, half...


And half what?


Oh, I don't know: a hint of wanton lust, I suppose.


Very well.


No, no, no! Juliet! Put your tongue back in your mouth!


Can't I just sort of lick my nether lip?


No, you can't just sort of lick your nether lip. A little shamed-face smiling on your part will more than sufficiently communicate your state of inner psycho-sexual turmoil. We want a film that can be safely enjoyed by peasants of every age!

Let's pick up the pace there, Capulet. The Good Friar is going to be sending out a search party for you and your daughter if you don't arrive at the altar soon.

And... That's it. You pause at the altar. Very good. Let's have some close-ups of the mothers shedding the usual tears now. Very good. Lady Capulet, give me some of your best "woe is me" and "alack the day." That's it: You're thinking, "Sunrise, Sunset," ladies, the transience of all worldly joys, etc. Lady Montague, some faucet works if you please, madame. Excellent! Now then, Camera B, get some close-ups of the peanut gallery: A nice shot of Tybalt on the verge of tears...


Why would I be on the verge of tears? If anybody should be on the verge of tears, it's the County Paris, who was originally slated to marry the bride.


Don't worry about Paris. He'll be tearing up plenty.

Now then, Friar Lawrence: Pick it up at, "If anyone present can show just cause... blah blah blah." Okay? And action!


If anyone present can show just cause why these two should not be joined together in holy matrimony --


I can!


Oh, no: Not the County Paris. Who invited HIM?











Lady Capulet said she was mine.


Come, come, son: You cannot marry Lady Capulet. Bless my soul, she's already taken!


No, I mean Lady Capulet said that Juliet was mine.


Come, come, son: You cannot marry Juliet. Bless MY soul, she's taken, too.


Cease and desist, County. You're a day late and a dollar short. And perhaps most unforgivably of all, you haven't been following the latest script changes.


Script changes? What script changes?



Read 'em and weep, loser.


Anyway, I now pronounce these guys man and wife, so there! Nyeh!

Romeo, you may kiss the bride -- and vice versee.




In fact, do you know what? Montagues in general can now kiss the Capulets, and vice versee.




Oh, come on! Where has this feuding gotten you through the centuries?




Look, all I am saying is, give peace a chance!




Someone's got to take the first step out there! Please, emulate this happy couple with their seemingly nonstop kissing up there at the altar and embrace your former foe!





Oh, pussyfoot!
Come here, Marjorie. Give us a big hug.



Well, this is all so sudden, but... Well, why not? Big hug, Irene: Big hug!

Montagues and Capulets together, sighing a la Barney TV show: BIG HUG!!!!!!






Mr. Montague, my friend: I've wronged you and your whole family.


: Oh, don't mention it. You should hear some of the names that Romeo has called YOU during our nightly dinners of pasta back at the Capulet place.


: Speaking of which, my bad, Tybalt: I promise never to call you the Prince of Kitty Cats again.


Indeed, sir? And I for my part promise to stop lopping off the limbs and ligaments of your kith and kin.


Oh, you are too kind -- if only just.


To be completely honest with you, I had had my heart set on turning you into your own 1,000-piece 3-d jigsaw puzzle tonight with this handy-dandy rapier of mine -- SIGH! -- but I think that I can forebear under this new lovey-dovey paradigm of the good Friar's.


How now, Paris: Are you placated now? Isn't love and understanding just the BEST!


Oh... okay. I guess you're right. Indeed, since we're all being honest now, I may as well own up to the fact that I always found Juliet here...




Yes?


A trifle dull, really, with those lackluster eyes of hers and her perhaps unnecessarily protruding chin...


Whatever. You've made your point.


And that arguably oversized version of a so-called Greco-Roman nose. (More like a Franco-Soviet schnozz, if you asked me.)


What is he saying about me, ma?


Oh, nothing, dear. Paris was just saying that he's going to start dating the newly available Rosaline again -- aren't you, Paris?


What? Ahem. Oh, yes, Rosaline: of course.


Uh-oh! My ears are burning.
Paris! There you are. Love me?



What? Well, I --


You heard the news, right? Romeo dropped me like a hot potato, the brute -- so my social calendar is now free and I'm open for business -- service with a smile, Paris: Service with a smile.


Um, right. Hold that thought, Rosaline.


What's wrong? Don't tell me you believe that malicious gossip according to which I supposedly scrape my teeth against my fork as I'm eating dinner!


What? Oh, no. First, however, I'm thinking of starting a new feud that will pit the Capulets against the Friar and his entire order of busybody brothers.


Egad, you're right, Paris: That conspiring esthete and his brotherhood has probably always been working behind the scenes to either cause or aggravate every argument that has ever separated our two families.


Death to the Friar and his band of sissies!




Right. Did someone just call me a sissy? Friar Lawrence to Abbey, Friar Lawrence to Abbey: Request backup at Saint Peter's Church. Bring along an extra big can of 'whoop-ass' for a certain Mercutio.


A can of -- Why, you! Get him, Montagues!


You, too, Capulets! (Oh, this is great: It's just like the old days when our two families were constantly at loggerheads!) Death to all local Friars, starting with today's master of ceremonies.





Juliet! Juliet! Wherefore art thou, Juliet!


I'm over here, Romeo!


Ha! I gotcha: 'Wherefore' means 'why,' remember, not 'where'?


Shut up and pull me out from under this recently collapsed church pew!


Okay, but keep low. The Friar's seem to be throwing some kind of highly anachronistic lemon-sized device that explodes upon contact with any solid objects, including both Capulets and Montagues.


That would be a grenade.


Leave it to Nursie baby to recognize all the cutting-edge gizmos.


I thought Friars, on the whole, were peaceful muckers.


Yes, well, Mercutio did call Friar Lawrence a sissy. That was no doubt the straw that broke the pacifist back.


Incoming!





Oh, poor Verona!


Poor Verona nothing! I dare say everybody in this church is now having the time of their lives -- and if they're killed at it, they can all say that they died doing something they loved!


Let's sneak out the back before your old man insists that you stay behind to help out with this new 'war effort.' Quick, follow me!





Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?


That's a trick question, right?






Well, here's your answer: I'm Romeo, see, because I'm proud of my name. As for my current location, I think you'll find me stumbling rather confusedly through the smoldering ruins of the narthex right about now...


Oh, dear.


Yes. If I were you, I'd look for my collapsed and almost lifeless body on the cold cement at the bottom of the front steps to the church, whither I am about to collapse right about... NOW!



Oh, Romeo! There you are!
Don't die on me, Romeo!


I fear there's only one thing now that could save me, Jules.



Oh, what's that, Romeo? What will save you?!


Well, I'm no doctor, of course, but...


Yes, yes?


But I think that a long kiss on the lips...



A long kiss on the lips, yes?


That's right -- along with a series of slow and deliberate...
one might almost say sensual massaging motions of your hands up and down my rib cage...
that's it: up and down, up and down...


I think I'm getting the idea.


Oddly enough, however, this cure will probably only work...
...if I can contrive somehow to be hugging you tightly as you perform these various ministrations.





Ooh! Oh, dear! You can hug quite forcibly for a person on his deathbed. Now let me see if I'm kissing you right: like THIS, do you mean?





I'm feeling better already. A weekend in Barbados, just the two of us, and I should be right as rain!


Good, because your hot-head father is en route at this very instant, no doubt ready to sign you up for the cavalry.


It's a miracle! I can walk!


Walk, nothing: You can run, apparently: Wait for me!


Next stop, Verona International Airport -- We'll catch the red-eye to Bridgetown!



Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo?


Don't you mean 'where' am I, father? 'Wherefore' means why, you know!


What?


Good one, Romeo! Touche!



Hey, I studied under a master, Juliet. I studied under a master!