Part 15 (2/2)
”I thought something was foul in the state of Denmark,” someone protested.
”Yes, but we're restaging it,” said Bertie.
”Are we changing the lines?” came from the back of the room.
”We don't have to change the words to change the play,” Bertie said. ”We'll say Denmark, but the audience will know we mean Egypt. The Scenic and Properties departments will set the stage in shades of gold and lapis. Mrs. Edith will have Hamlet dressed as a young pharaoh.”
Everyone nodded and murmured things like ”I suppose so” and ”I hope this works.”
Coffee sloshed about in Bertie's middle, and she did her best not to think about the large quant.i.ty of baguette and whipped pastry cream she'd just snarfed down. ”I also thought it would be interesting to reinterpret the poison theme. Asps are appropriate for the setting-”
”Snakes?!” That was a horrified Gertrude.
Bertie faltered. ”Yes, snakes.”
Gertrude s.h.i.+vered as though something had already wriggled up her stocking. ”I don't work with reptiles.”
Hamlet stopped leaning on the pyramid he'd been holding up since his dressing-down. ”But think of the impact you could have, using live ones! Imagine Mother Dearest as a reincarnation of Cleopatra, with an asp clasped to her breast.”
”Leave my b.r.e.a.s.t.s out of it, you little degenerate!” Gertrude threw her cup at him.
He dodged remarkably fast for a melancholy introvert. Most of the coffee ended up on Polonius, who shrieked and attempted to dry himself on the curtains.
”Let's just fetch out one of the dear creatures.” Hamlet peeked into the basket and grinned. A premonition of doom slid through Bertie, but before she could stop him, the prince dumped out the slithering contents of the basket, and a dozen glittering, very-much-alive asps wiggled free.
Gertrude screamed and jumped onto her chair as the rest of the cast scattered to the outermost edges of the stage.
Bertie hopped from one foot to the other, trying to make sense of it. ”Someone call a Snake Charmer!”
”Help!” Gertrude shrieked. ”Murder! Sabotage!”
Yes, sabotage. Probably by Ariel's hand.
Bertie caught sight of the Stage Manager smirking into his headset.
Except it's not just Ariel who wants to see me fail. I have more enemies than Hamlet himself.
”A little help, if ye please!” Nate had leapt onstage to grab snakes and shove them back into the basket.
Bertie flapped at her sleeves until they covered her hands-hardly protection against a venomous bite, but it was better than nothing. She grabbed an asp by the tail and flung it at him, doing her best not to shriek.
”Well done!” Moth yelled, flying past her to help.
”Don't touch them,” Bertie said, catching hold of two more and feeling her skin p.r.i.c.kle all over as she dropped them in the basket. ”I don't want any of you getting bitten.”
Nate returned with a wiggling handful.
”Bertie!” Peaseblossom cried, pointing at the side door. ”The Players are running away!”
Bertie raised her voice to a shout. ”Everyone is going to take their places for Act One, Scene One, this instant!”
”What about the snakes?” Gertrude demanded, poised to make a grand exit. Her Ladies-in-Waiting agreed with clucks and murmurs of equal parts sympathy and vitriol.
”We got them,” Nate announced as he clapped the lid back on the basket. ”Every last one.”
”We haven't any time to waste,” Bertie said, standing on tiptoe to make her entreaty. ”We need to make it through the play at least once this afternoon!”
Amidst grumbles and confusion, everyone moved into position while keeping a careful watch on the floor. Bertie went out into the auditorium and took a seat, signaling to Francisco and Bernardo.
The latter clomped over to stand in front of the center pyramid. ”Who's there?”
The Ghost of Hamlet's Father shoved past him. ”Whooooooooo!” He circled the astounded sentries with his costume flapping.
”That's not the cue for your entrance,” Bertie said, addressing the pink-flowered sheet. ”Excuse me! Stop that immediately.”
He continued to flap around the stage like an enormous, psychotic bird. ”Whoop, whoop, whooooo!”
”I think the costume change might have broken his head,” Bertie said. ”Can I get some help, please?”
Marcellus and Horatio joined Bernardo and Francisco. The four of them chased the Ghost around the pyramids and into the orchestra pit.
”Your cue,” Bertie yelled over the din of overturned instruments and creative cursing, ”is 'the bell then beating one.' Get backstage, and change out of that ridiculous thing.”
The Ghost obediently ripped off his sheet with a flourish. Gertrude put a hand to her forehead and swooned against the nearest Lady-in-Waiting.
”Oh, please!” said Claudius. ”You were married to him!”
Gertrude stopped overdramatizing long enough to glare at him. ”So?”
”So, unless Hamlet was an immaculate conception, there's nothing going on there that you haven't seen before. Stop playing the dewy-eyed virgin.” Claudius jabbed a finger in Ophelia's direction. ”That's her job!”
”If you like her so much, why don't you marry her?”
”Maybe I will!” Claudius took Ophelia by the hand and began to kiss his way up her arm.
”Let me go!” Ophelia struggled, but she was no match for the portly king.
”Cad! Philanderer!” Gertrude closed her fan and hit Claudius with it.
”h.e.l.lcat!” he yelped even as an angry, red welt bloomed on his cheek.
Gertrude swung at Claudius again. When he turned to run, he collided with the naked Ghost, and the two men went down in a tangle of limbs.
”Line!” Hamlet yelled. ”For mercy's sake, someone give me the line!”
Bertie watched with growing horror as the brawl expanded to include most of the Ladies-in-Waiting and Rosencrantz. Guildenstern abandoned the fray to lick all the swords in sight, testing for poison. Someone in the very back row of the auditorium snickered.
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