CLOWNWORLD SHAKESPEARE - The Journey, the Episode Where Glasses are Tipped and Cheers are Wished!

Shakespeare knocks down a few at Cheers!

The 11th episode ended with some unknown person or persons from 2134 spying via drone on the 2023 version of William Shakespeare. That can’t be good. But we’ll get back to that in future episodes.

William had just exited the Sterling Cooper ad agency, bearing a large cheque, when we last saw him. While walking home, the celebrated writer narrowly escaped a serious blood letting when that previously mentioned drone zoomed within inches of his face.

Right now, the puzzled and annoyed poet stares at the drone as it noisily wafts out of sight. He shakes his head, mutters. Oh, well, it’s been a fantastic day so far, despite the drone.

He even feels better, much better than he did when he woke up in the morning.

His writing fastball is as sharp as ever. Won’t let some stupid drone ruin his day. Probably just some kids. Lucky kids. I never had a drone. I had that vibrating football game, which you know, never worked.

YE OLD CUT TO:

EXT. WILSHIRE, BLVD. - NIGHT

William walks into a somewhat crowded entertainment district along famed Wilshire Blvd.

Beautiful, smiling people exit high-end cars and leave their keys with valets before they enter restaurants, comedy cabarets and illicit underground sex clubs.

Yes, even LA’s underground illicit sex spots offer valet services and car washing. Ask me how I know. Just kidding.

Gotta wait for the suits at Substack to greenlight SubstackMax, for when we “sit-down” comics wanna work a little blue.

Anyway, you know what? The night’s young. Shakespeare’s on a roll. Maybe he’ll enjoy some nightlife. He looks up and sees the iconic Cheers bar sign. He muses: “Hmm, seems like a decent pub.”

Wait, hold on a sec. Is that Cheers?! The famed ‘80s sitcom bar? Why, yes, it is! Of all the luck!

SHAKESPEARE (under his breath): “‘Here, you may meet a fine dame; Patrons so friendly, they probably even know your name.’ Hmm, gotta remember that one.”

The Shakesman then proceeds to walk down that well-worn Cheers stairway. In fact, two couples also come down the stairs right behind Shakespeare.

The Bard holds the door open for the four folks, who are eager to get inside the bar.

INT. CHEERS

Oh, looks like the two couples are meeting friends. Shakespeare watches wistfully as they quickly saunter off to sit down with their smiling chums. Hmm, the bar’s a bit noisy tonight, so it’s hard to be 100% certain, but it sounds like Shakespeare may have muttered to himself, “Wish Vicky was here.” Possibly. Very possibly.

Shakespeare looks tentatively around. It is a nice place, with that warm feel, you know, like the soothing glow you get when polishing off a bottle of gin.

The famed writer spots an open table near the bar, walks toward it and sits.

Cheers regulars NORM and CLIFF sip beers and chat as they sit next to one another at the bar. While SAM, WOODY and COACH (yeah, they’re all here, even though Coach actor Nicholas Colasanto and Woody “Woody” Harrelson never appeared on the show together) tend to mixing drinks and cleaning up behind the bar.

Curly-haired, diminutive waitress CARLA, looking pissed off as usual, approaches William.

CARLA: “Whaddya have?”

SHAKESPEARE: “Your finest ale.”

CARLA: “Okay, one Bud Light-- “

SHAKESPEARE: “Rotten stench of dead goat brains, no! Not that. Anything but that--”

Carla chuckles. Back in Chapter 3, the Bard had a bad experience with Bud Light, one that has nothing to do with today’s headlines.

CARLA: “Just testin’ ya. We don’t serve that swill. How about a Taming of the Brew? You’ll love it.”

SHAKESPEARE: “Sold, fair maiden!”

CARLA: “‘Maiden,’ huh? I like this guy.”

Carla walks away.

Cliff, who has been paying extra attention to Shakespeare, turns to Norm.

CLIFF: “Hey, uh, Norm, get a load of the limey over there.”

Norm chuckles and imitates a really bad English accent:

NORM (to Cliff): “Hello, guvnor, care for a cold one?”

Cliff drains his beer mug.

CLIFF: “Watch this.”

Straightening out his iconic mailman outfit, Cliff walks over to the Bard. And in a pretty damn okay British accent…

CLIFF: “Hey, fella, top o’ the morning to me. Don’t let the road rise up to meet you. Hey, uh, you know what they call an Englishwoman with all her teeth? A fantasy. Get it?”

Shakespeare bristles at both the accent and the actual words. You see, “top o’ the morning” is an Irish saying, not a British one. And as for the teeth joke, well, Shakespeare simply can’t abide.

Shakespeare slowly stands up to face the mailman.

From the Bard’s Julius Caesar:

SHAKESPEARE: “‘Who is here so rude that would speak to me in that heathen tongue of those who killed my people? If any, speak; for him have I offended. I pause for a reply.’”

That completely wipes the poop-eating-grin off Cliff’s face. He blanches and begins to back up toward the bar, almost stumbling. Speaking in his regular accent:

CLIFF: “Sorry. No offense. Just being, uh, friendly to, uh, the bar’s immigrant community.”

Shakespeare continues glaring at Cliff, who gingerly sits back down next to Norm. Cliff cannot take his eyes off Shakespeare, who’s now sitting down and nursing the beer that Carla just served him.

From behind the bar, Woody approaches Norm and Cliff, with a small bar towel slung over his shoulder:

WOODY: “Looks like you found a new friend, Mr. Clavin. You two really hit it off.”

NORM: “Only thing about to be hit is Cliff’s mouth.”

Carla walks over to the drinkers.

CARLA: “He’s British, not Irish, dummy! Can’t take you people anywhere.”

Sam and Coach walk over to Cliff and Norm.

COACH: “Hey, Sammy, didn’t we have a shortstop from England? Javier something or other? His accent was so thick, it’s hard to believe we were both speaking English!”

SAM: “No, Coach. Javier was from Guatemala. He only spoke Spanish.”

Coach looks genuinely confused with his furrowed brow and pursed lips.

COACH: “He did?”

Sam smiles and looks up at the Cheers gang.

SAM: “Trust me, Coach. I knew his whole family. Especially his older sister Esmeralda, who only knew three English words: ‘Yes, Sammy, baby, yes, Sammy, baby!’”

Everyone laughs, except for Cliff and Coach, who’s still struggling to understand that Javier was in fact Spanish.

Cliff, lost in thought, stares at the Bard. His mouth trembles a little as he speaks.

CLIFF: “That guy...over...there. “

Cliff uses his head, signaling Shakespeare.

CLIFF: “You know...who...he is?“

The crew shakes their heads “no.”

CLIFF: “That’s...William... Shakespeare...time traveled to the... the... present.”

The crew carefully consider Cliff’s words, for about a nanosecond. Then they keel over laughing. Even Coach. Even Woody.

WOODY: “Come on now. Why would a rich guy like William Shakespeare use a time machine? He would just take one of his airplanes and fly over here. You’re not too smart sometimes, Mr. Clavin.”

SAM: “You know, there is someone I can call.”

CARLA: “Don’t say her name, Sammy! Don’t.”

Carla briskly walks into the back room with her hands over her ears.

SAM: “I could call (whispers) Diane...”

CARLA (offstage): ”I heard that!”

SAM: “...and ask her.”

CLIFF: “We don’t need her. Shakespeare was my best subject in school. I even won the Senior Shakespeare Award.”

NORM: “Really, Cliff? You?”

CLIFF: “That’s right. I got up in front of the whole school. I was King Lear. And I won the whole thing. Beat out some chick playing Ophelia.”

Carla struts back into the bar area.

CARLA: “Wow, Cliff, you must be an amazing actor.”

Cliff beams at the rare compliment.

CLIFF: “Thank you, Carla.”

CARLA: “Yeah, I mean, you played King Lear, who had three daughters. You convinced hundreds of people that you were capable of having sex three times with an actual woman!”

Cliff deflates.

SAM: “You know Shakespeare, Carla?”

CARLA: “Yeah, I seen all his movies.”

Cliff stares daggers at Carla. But from across the room, Shakespeare returns the favor to Cliff and stares daggers at the mailman.

CLIFF: “Make fun all you want. I know my Shakespeare. And that guy is the real deal. I saw it in his eyes.”

Cliff steels himself and then, from King Lear…

CLIFF: “‘You owe me no subscription. Then let fall your horrible pleasure. Here I stand your slave, a poor, infirm, weak, and despis’d old man.’”

Cliff pauses a sec as the Cheers crew is impressed.

Shakespeare obviously heard the speech as well, as he continues to glare over at Cliff.

CLIFF: “Pretty good Lear, huh?”

CARLA: “Yeah, you’re a great rear.”

Wow, Cliff’s speech was pretty, pretty good. You know who’s not impressed? William Shakespeare is not impressed. This Cliff Clavin guy is a fucking menace.

Clavin’s gonna blow Shakespeare’s cover. Shakespeare’s temper visibly grew as the dorky mailman performed his lines.

When Shakespeare time travels, the Bard likes to go incognito. Not be the story himself, but an observer of the story.

We haven’t gotten into this before, but he’s going by the name Bill Peare.

Oh, for crying out loud! What do you want? A story where it’s nothing but: “I’m William Shakespeare!” “Oh, my God, the Bard! That’s so cool! You wanna hang out/have sex/meet my friends/help me write my term paper/come to show ‘n tell day at school/freak out my dorky brother/watch a random Guy Ritchie movie with me and be a human subtitler”?

No, I’m saving that for the sequel: Shakespeare reveals himself, achieves instant fame in the modern world, hooks up with a hot young ingenue like Sydney Sweeney or any Euphoria actress and becomes president. Er, wait, sorry, that’s not the sequel. That was just something I jotted down in my diary.

Anyway, for now, we’re at Cheers, and Carla decides to take matters into her own hands. She sees that both Cliff and Shakespeare are becoming mortal enemies, and she wants to diffuse any impending idiocy on Cliff’s part.

CARLA: “Pour me another one, Sam, for the English guy. I’m gonna give ‘em one on the house to make up for this idiot over here. Last thing I need is a brawl that I gotta clean up here. Then I go home to clean up after five kids!”

Carla scrunches her face, while Sam nods “no problem” and pours a mug.

Carla mutters to herself: “Time travel, yeah, right.”

Sam places the full beer mug on Carla’s serving tray. She walks over to the Bard, and the two immediately begin chatting.

We can’t hear, but they’re laughing, pointing at Cliff, laughing, pointing, pointing some more and they both share a huge final chuckle before Carla rejoins the Cheers regulars.

Cliff leans in toward Carla.

CLIFF: “Well?”

CARLA: “Oh, he totally confessed. He’s Shakespeare all right. Came here to kill the president, because the president is an undercover alien overlord whose home planet is trying to control the galaxy.”

Everyone, and by everyone I mean, Sam, Norm, Woody, Coach, Cliff and even a few unnamed show regulars are wide-eyed, hanging onto Carla’s every word.

The curly-haired waitress speaks in a hushed tone.

CARLA: “And then, once he kills the president, he’s gonna open Fort Knox and give every American one...million...dollars.”

The crew collectively whistle and sigh. They all smile as their mouths hang open in stunned awe.

Then one by one, starting with Carla, the crew begin laughing. Yeah, they get it. Carla’s having some fun at Cliff’s expense.

Speaking of Cliff, he looks very concerned. He’s glaring over at Shakespeare, who’s scratching notes on a piece of crinkled, browned parchment paper.

CARLA: “Oh, Cliff, seriously? You’re a dope. The guy’s just a bank teller, okay? A regular guy. Bet even you stamp-pushers make more money than him. Sheesh.”

CLIFF: “Well, if he’s not time-traveling Shakespeare, then why is he writing on a piece of paper?”

CARLA: “You’re right, Cliff. Only time traveling famous writers use paper and pen.”

Carla shakes her head and walks off. Cliff cricks his neck sideways. He cracks his knuckles. He pauses a second. Summons his courage by taking a huge sip of beer and gathers a full head of steam as he walks over to Shakespeare, who briefly looks up from his note taking.

CLIFF: “You ever been to Stratford-upon-Avon?”

SHAKESPEARE: “Maybe.”

With a determined look on his face, Cliff leans in toward the Bard, who stows away the parchment paper in his shirt pocket.

CLIFF: “Your father named John, a glove maker?”

SHAKESPEARE: “Possibly.”

Cliff moves closer toward the Bard and quickly glances back to his pals at the bar, who are watching with bated breath and slyly smiling, waiting for Cliff to make his usual ass of himself.

CLIFF: “Are you William Shakespeare, come from the past to kill the president and then distribute all the gold in Fort Knox to Americans?”

Shakespeare considers the question. Ponders. Then starts laughing. His laugh subsides. His eyes get a faraway look, and he rhythmically delivers:

SHAKESPEARE: “That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard. I’m a poor old man’s even poorer son. Time travel ‘tis a dream, though sounds like fun. Didn’t know you were daft, thought you a nerd.”

Cliff slowly breaks into a smile. He looks back at the Cheers troupe. They’re laughing. Cliff backs away from Shakespeare and softens up a bit. Yeah, maybe he’s been a bit of a nut. A little chuckle escapes his mustached mouth. Then boom! Cliff immediately darkens.

CLIFF: “Hey, that was a rhyming quatrain, and each line was iambic pentameter!”

The Cheers gang has had enough. Shouts and cries of: “Shut up, Cliff.” “Don’t be a moron.” “Leave the guy alone, you nut.” And those are just the nice things. Cliff stares at Shakespeare, who just shrugs like: “Whaddaya gonna do, pal?”

Time passes.

Shakespeare is still sitting at his table, but now he’s surrounded by a half-dozen empty beer mugs. He’s also surrounded by Cliff, Norm and a handful of other bar patrons. They’re all drinking, laughing, having a good time.

Sam and Coach tend bar, while Woody and Carla clear tables.

CLIFF: “Hey, Sammy! Another round for my friend Bill here.”

Shakespeare stands and holds his hands up as if to say: “I’m done.” But Sam is having none of it, and he turns directly to Shakespeare.

SAM: “You sit right back down. More beers coming right up!”

Norm drains his beer mug. Then he points at Clavin and laughs.

NORM (to Shakespeare): “And can you believe this numbskull thought you were some sort of time traveler? William Shakespeare time traveling? So dumb. I mean, of all the hackneyed—”

(interrupting) SHAKESPEARE: “Well, gentlemen, unfortunately, I must bid you farewell. I have to be awake with the cock.”

Norm and Cliff share a look.

SHAKESPEARE: “Sorry, when the rooster crows, as you Americans say.”

Shakespeare walks toward the establishment’s front door.

With hands in pockets, Cliff follows the poet like a lost puppy.

The mailman clears his throat, and the Bard wheels around and faces Clavin, who wears an apologetic and sheepish, but sincere smile.

CLIFF: “So, hey, listen, no hard feelings about earlier. I get a little carried away sometimes. But hey, all’s well that ends well, huh? Huh?”

SHAKESPEARE: “Yes, indeed... friend.”

Shakespeare extends his right hand and Cliff gratefully shakes it.

Shakespeare turns toward the front door and grabs the handle... and then backs away and turns toward Cliff, who can’t peel his eyes away from the Bard. The sitcom mailman hasn’t moved a muscle since he and William shook hands.

SHAKESPEARE: “Oh, hey, Cliff.”

From his shirt pocket, the Bard pulls out the small browned piece of parchment paper and hands it to a somewhat surprised Cliff. Shakespeare quickly exits. We see the Bard rapidly ascend those steep iconic sitcom stairs.

Cliff slowly opens the withered piece of parchment paper.

WTF? It’s written in that olde tyme English, with wyfe for wife (or Wifi, who knows?) and lyfe for life. And that ink. It’s centuries old, except for some new ballpoint pen markings.

The first line of the ancient paper reads: “SONNET - Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?” But “a summer’s day” is crossed out with a Bic pen and replaced with CLIFF CLAVIN!!!!!

Cliff stares at the paper and then looks up, searching frantically for his peeps around the bar. But they’ve all scattered to different corners and aren’t paying attention to Cliff and his antics anymore.

The mailman holds the parchment in his hands with the reverence of a man who’s just looked into the eyes of God:

CLIFF: “Hey, guys! Guys! GUYYSSS!!!”

THE END (for now)

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***I’m eager to hear your comments, raw and unfiltered. Don’t worry about trampling my ego. Thoughts about the characters? Anything make you chuckle, tee-hee, guffaw, grimace, shake your head in dismay, roll on the floor with side-busting laughter? Did it give you hives? Whatever you gotta say, tell me. I got home last week, and there was a severed horse’s head on my pillow and a note that read, “More comments! Now! Capisce?” Signed, “Tony Substackprano.” So please…

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