CLOWNWORLD SHAKESPEARE - The Journey Barges into a New Chapter
We're going way back in time here...
William just discovered the time machine backstage at the Globe Theatre when we ended things in Episode 8.
Let’s not delay as the 9th Chapter of The Journey beckons…
INT. GLOBE THEATRE - 1594
What a magnificent device this time machine is. William, of course, has never seen anything resembling such a contraption-- electronic controls, LED displays, cheap Chinese-made plastics knobs.
But a curious little glass window has caught William’s utmost attention! What magic lies behind this darkish rectangular glass pane? There’s a button. It’s marked PLAY. SHAKESPEARE isn’t quite sure what to do. He hovers his finger over the button, then slowly presses it.
Floom! The dark screen flashes to life. It’s a small TV. A model-esque YOUNG MAN and an equally attractive YOUNG WOMAN appear on a golf course. Both holding golf clubs and dressed for the occasion too. Yep, it’s a cheesy promo video type thing, but it’s, uh, well, it’s “Shakespeare” as far as Shakespeare is concerned here.
MAN: “Hello, and welcome to Pfizer’s Time Machine 3000 Series.”
WOMAN: “Bringing you the latest in temporal displacement technology...”
Shakespeare is completely transfixed. Mouth agape, hand over mouth, slight drool from mouth, eyes twitching. This dude is stoned!
Filmed entertainment, in color, with talking. Shakespeare’s mind would be racing, but it’s been momentarily blown to bits. I mean, this guy’s never even seen a photograph.
Footsteps approach. It’s angry actor HENRY (from Chapter 8), approaching the backstage area, searching for the Bard.
HENRY: “William, William, did you find me a suitable garment? I can’t rehearse in these rags!”
Shakespeare immediately snaps out of his reverie. He doesn’t know what he’s just seen, but he knows one thing. No one else can see it, that’s for sure. They’ll probably accuse him of deviltry and banish him to Scotland. Best to keep this whatchamacallit a secret.
As William conceals the time machine with theatre clothes, he sees something he recognizes on the floor of the device. Sheets of paper.
INSTRUCTION MANUAL. Shakespeare quickly folds it and stuffs it into his pocket.
Shakespeare looks up. Henry’s now hovering over him.
Oh, thank heavens! Shakespeare spots a suitable costume for Henry. The Bard snatches up the costume and holds it out to the actor.
SHAKESPEARE: “Here, Henry, be a good lad and put this on. We’re running behind as is.”
Shakespeare turns around one last time to peer at the time machine. He guides Henry out from backstage, with one hand firmly placed on the actor’s shoulder.
YE OLDE CUT TO:
INT. GLOBE THEATRE - MIDNIGHT
We’re backstage again. It’s dark. Then whoosh, a candle lights up the place, a little. It’s William.
He’s muttering as he chucks the garments off the time machine! He climbs inside. Ouch! He almost burns his fingers holding the time machine instruction manual by candlelight.
He’s sits in the device and lets out a big sigh. Hmm. Comfy.
He surveys the instructions one last time. He hits a button and the large LED display and small TV screen lights up. The Bard’s eyes grow wide as he kisses his fingers. He then gently touches his kissed fingers against that magical TV screen. He blows out the candle and…
SHAKESPEARE: “O great wondrous window to eternity, protect this journey from undue enmity!”
Poof!
YE OLDE CUT TO:
EXT. PASTURE- DAY
Smack dab in the middle of the pasture: flwummpff! Lightning strikes and out of that skyward spark flies Shakespeare. He tumbles and tumbles and tumbles and flips and tumbles and flips.
And then another whoosh, the time machine materializes. No tumbling, no flipping, just a smooth motionless materialization.
A very shaken and stirred Shakespeare dusts himself off. He checks his limbs. Yep, all there, even the sensitive areas.
YE OLDE CUT TO:
EXT. LONDON STREETS, DUSK, 1400
Wow, what a (bleep) show. We are back in medieval London, the year is 1400.
Shakespeare wanders around. There are people everywhere. It’s circus, but with a lot less clowns and much more filth. And hookers.
Shakespeare wedges through the crowd, clutching himself tightly for safety. He wades through opium dealers, leering scumbags and nondescript pickpockets. The constables turn a blind eye to all the corruption.
Futilely, Shakespeare asks for directions from a few men and women who just shake their unwashed heads and move on.
SHAKESPEARE: “Excuse me. I’m looking for the Chaucer Playhouse... Can someone direct me to the Chaucer Playhouse...”
Shakespeare approaches a GRIMY MAN giving a speech literally on a soapbox to a crowd of even grimier PEASANTS.
GRIMY MAN: “And then the king, he cancelled me. He got me fired from me job, had me wife and kids banished to a debtor’s prison. Stole me bleeding home. Killed me cows. All because of one tweet.”
The sympathetic CROWD grows angry. Swears and insults against the king arise.
GRIMY MAN: “And ‘ere’s my tweet.”
He whistles a happy tune and as he does so, he singsongs and farts along :
GRIMY MAN: “♪ The...king’s...perfect...a...perfect...arsehole ♪”
The peasants love it. The grimy cancelled man is a momentary hero.
Shakespeare walks on and boom. Suddenly, he’s in the middle of a brawl. Two men, now four, now eight. Shakespeare takes a few glancing blows, but narrowly escapes the melee by pushing and shoving as if his life depends on it. Because it does.
Whew. A bit of a clearing. The unruly crowd has thinned out.
Shakespeare continues wandering uncouth, stain-covered London.
Ah, that’s nice. A cute YOUNG BOY and his sweet angelic MOTHER stand outside a Magic Potions Shop. The mother counts a few pence in her hand.
The boy turns to William as the Bard walks past.
BOY: “O please, good, kind, sir, could I trouble you with a query?”
Shakespeare stops walking.
YOUNG MOTHER: “Son, please don’t bother the man with our woes.”
SHAKESPEARE: “No problem, milady. I too seem to be a little lost and--”
The boy’s smile turns to a sinister frown.
BOY: “Give us all your money or else!”
Shakespeare pulls back.
SHAKESPEARE: “Or else what?”
The young boy pulls out a switchblade. The mother’s expression darkens.
YOUNG MOTHER: “I’ll yell rape!“
A FRUMPY OLDER WOMAN walking nearby overhears the conversation.
FRUMPY WOMAN: “Yeah, me too! He’s trying to rape me too! Me too!”
Shakespeare, the boy and his mother all turn to the frumpy woman:
ALL THREE: “Shut up!!!”
Shakespeare uses that moment to bolt. He doesn’t bother looking back.
He runs and runs and runs until he finds himself in a dark alleyway. He’s bent over, panting. He’s all alone, no one is coming after him.
He looks up. Oh, no! It’s ANOTHER YOUNG BOY and HIS YOUNG ATTRACTIVE MOTHER. Shakespeare runs!
MOTHER (to herself): “Oi! A shame. He was hot. I was gonna ask if he would be cravin’ a fortnight of unbridled, no strings attached carnal relations.”
BOY: “Ever since father died and left us with a billion crowns, I just wish I could donate some of it to a deserving soul, like a needy writer.”
The mother pulls her son close to her chest and gives him a loving hug.
Shakespeare keeps going, but loses all his steam outside the...Chaucer Playhouse. He’s so tired he doesn’t look up to see that he’s actually arrived at his destination. He sits down in the street as theatre patrons walk over him into the playhouse.
Shakespeare begins incanting from Henry V.
SHAKESPEARE: “And let us, ciphers to this great accompt, on your imaginary forces work. Suppose within the girdle of these walls are now confined two mighty monarchies, whose high upreared and abutting fronts...”
He seems to gain strength from these words. In fact, by the time he’s on the last line, he’s raging. Shakespeare jumps up and grabs a FRAIL OLD MAN, entering the theatre, by the collar. The Bard shakes him hard and shouts:
SHAKESPEARE: “I will cast thou fetid soul to the pit of hell, now where is the Chaucer Playhouse, do tell!”
The now-frightened old guy points with a bony finger up toward the playhouse sign. Shakespeare now sees it. Yep, it’s the Chaucer Theatre. The Bard sheepishly grins as he grabs the octogenarian by the collar and tries to shake some life back into him. Sheesh, William, watch the elder abuse.
YE OLDE CUT TO:
INT. CHAUCER PLAYHOUSE
Looks like they’re gonna do a rendition of Chaucer’s The Pardoner’s Tale. The house is packed. The curtain falls away. The play is just about to begin. An ACTOR, dressed as Death — you know, draped in a dark robe, brandishing a scythe — approaches the very front of the stage. He holds his hands up as if to say “simmer the eff down, people!”
ACTOR: “We have just been handed word that England’s greatest poet, one who can never ever ever EVER! be topped...”
Shakespeare bristles at that last line and vehemently rolls his eyes.
ACTOR: “Sir Geoffrey Chaucer has passed away earlier tonight, and we are going to cancel the performance in his honor and refund--”
A PEASANT WOMAN quickly stands up.
PEASANT WOMAN: “Don’t give no shit about no dead writer!”
Shakespeare does not like that line either. He bristles.
PEASANT MAN: “We paid good pence to be ‘ere! We wanna see a bleedin’ play.”
More peasants stand up and everyone starts shouting at once. These peasants wanna see a play and won’t take nyet for an answer.
Playgoers rush the stage.
The Actor tries to speak, but he’s drowned out and trampled as the stage is mobbed.
It’s a full-blown riot. The angry mob tears the stage apart, from scenic backdrop-to-front curtain. Those who aren’t destroying props are fighting each other. It’s total chaos.
Sitting down in his seat, however, Shakespeare feels protected and far removed from the action. He looks around in wonderment.
While fists are flying, the Bard slyly smiles to himself. He hasn’t been this happy in a long time. He’s found some sort of inner peace.
He whips out a piece of paper and with an inked quill pen pulled from his pocket, he writes: CRAZYWORLD CHAUCER, THE ADVENTURE BEGINS.
He momentarily looks up. It’s Vicky, ghost Vicky, Shakespeare’s former colleague and possible love interest (whom we first met in Chapter 3). That Vicky! She’s smiling as she wafts above the crowd in her shimmering long white dress.
VICKY: “Hey, baby, you doing okay?”
Wide-eyed with delight, Shakespeare quickly rises from his seat. He has no problem talking to ghosts in this era, the 1400s. I mean, he’s not even alive technically, so he has carte blanche to act a fool in public. Plus, there’s a riot going on. No one’s gonna take notice of some crazy fella chatting up a ghost.
The famed poet gushes up at Vicky, who beams down a smile at him.
SHAKESPEARE: “Vicky, is that you? How’d you find me? I have so much I wanna—”
Splloooffttt! Shakespeare is decked by a rioting playgoer.
THE END.
!!Next chapter is right here. Click it!!
