Shakespeare: Slammed, Smeared, Savaged and Slaughtered
By
Jay Dubya
Bookstandpublishing.com
Copyright 2011
Other Books by Jay Dubya
Adult Fiction
Black Leather and Blue Denim, A ‘50s Novel
The Great Teen Fruit War, A 1960’ Novel
Frat’ Brats, A ‘60s Novel
Ron Coyote, Man of La Mangia
Pieces of Eight
Pieces of Eight, Part II
Pieces of Eight, Part III
Pieces of Eight, Part IV
The Wholly Book of Genesis
The Wholly Book of Exodus
Thirteen Sick Tasteless Classics
Thirteen Sick Tasteless Classics, Part II
Thirteen Sick Tasteless Classics, Part III
Thirteen Sick Tasteless Classics, Part IV
So Ya’ Wanna’ Be A Teacher
Mauled Maimed Mangled Mutilated Mythology
Fractured Frazzled Folk Fables and Fairy Farces
FFFF&FF, Part II
Nine New Novellas
Nine New Novellas, Part II
Nine New Novellas, Part III
Nine New Novellas, Part IV
One Baker's Dozen
Two Baker’s Dozen
RAM: Random Articles and Manuscripts
Shakespeare: SSS &S, Part II
Suite 16
Time Travel Tales
UFO: Utterly Fantastic Occurrences
Snake Eyes and Boxcars
Snake Eyes and Boxcars, Part II
Modern Mythology
Twain: Tattered Trounced Tortured & Traumatized
Poe: Pelted Pounded Pummeled & Pulverized
O. Henry: Obscenely & Outrageously Obliterated
London: Lashed Lacerated Lampooned & Lambasted
Young Adult Fantasy Novels
Pot of Gold
Enchanta
Space Bugs, Earth Invasion
The Eighteen Story Gingerbread House
William Shakespeare’s Life (1564-1616)
William Shakespeare was born (just like the rest of us fragile mortals) in Stratford-on-Avon, England, situated about eighty miles northwest of London. The registers at the Holy Trinity Church indicate that Shakespeare was baptized (and nearly drowned) on April 26, 1564, probably three days after the future playwright popped out of his mother Mary’s snatcheroo. William was the third of eight children born to John and Mary Shakespeare (maiden name Arden), and his merchant father was once mayor of the somnolent community who would knock on residents’ doors and humorously and ridiculously announce, “Stratford-on-Avon calling! Ha, ha, ha!”
William courted and dated an attractive girl named Anne Hathaway, who lived in Shottery, a village around a half-mile (half-a-way) from Stratford-on-Avon. Anne was actually robbing the cradle since she was twenty-six and William was a mere eighteen when the pair wed in 1582 and even though Shakespeare never took drugs and seldom got drunk, as a horny youth he was often seen entering the “half-a-way house” in Shottery with a huge bulge in his pants. The couple had three children, Susana in 1583 and twins Hamnet and Judith in 1585. All three raunchy kids had to sleep in twin beds even though only Hamnet and Judith were bona fide twins.
After moving from the countryside to London Shakespeare soon became an actor, playwright, poet and businessman, becoming a partner in the ownership of the now-famous Globe Theater. His acting company The King’s Men often performed at the Globe and it is frequently and accurately said, “All the King’s horses and all The King’s Men, couldn’t put Humpty Dumpty together again!”
William Shakespeare is reputed to have written thirty-seven plays and since he died at age fifty-two it is believed that he regularly wrote at “super-sonnet speed.” Shakespeare often had trouble holding his sword or spear steady while standing on stage and hence his physical appearance and trembling mannerisms often matched the structure of his last name. In his work the playwright demonstrates a tremendous knowledge of a variety of subjects such as music, history, politics, sports, law’, the Bible along with other remarkable assorted bullshit. In 1611 William became pissed-off and bored with the Globe Theater so he lived the last five years of his life as a country gentleman in Stratford-on-Avon where he resided in the second largest house in the town. W.S. was buried in Trinity Church where he had been violently baptized fifty-two years earlier.
“A Midsummer Night’s Dream”
Act I
On any warm and fuzzy magical midsummer night anything (including Cupid’s amorous love spells) is possible. On such a mystical late summer evening in ancient Athens a man could be changed into a donkey and women and goddesses could passionately fall in love with the ugly-looking beast. Could this exotic erotic tale have all been an illusion? A joke? A wondrous dream you may think? Or perhaps the entire allegory was pure asinine bullshit? Who the hell knows?
A long-long time ago in mythological antiquity, before drunken historians began recording human events in a fairly rational and logical manner, Theseus, the renowned King of Athens was all set to marry the all-too-hip Hippolyta, the former notorious Amazon and Amazon.com Queen. The much-anticipated happy marriage ceremony was all set to occur four days later under the full harvest moon.
“Well Hippolyta,” Theseus said to his former warlike fiancée in his ornate throne room, “in four short days we’re going to get hitched. And to think we were once former enemies belligerently fighting a raging war. Fortunately my very competent Athenian army defeated your tribe of Amazons and there’s now tranquil peace in the valley and soon a much-deserved piece each and every evening we’ll share in our warm cozy bed, ha, ha, ha.”
“The four days until the full moon will pass quickly dear Theseus as if it was one night,” Hippolyta shrewdly replied and predicted, “and then my prospective Husband I can’t wait to give you a full moon each and every night with my firm plump ass.”
“Ah yes,” Theseus acknowledged. “That splendid erotic thought haunts my psyche daily. I’m fuckin’ hornier now than that goddamned bullshitting Minotaur I had killed in the shadowy labyrinth underneath King Minos’s palace on the island of Crete. I kicked the gargantuan monster’s ass good but I intend to lick yours Hippolyta instead of punting it around the palace, assuming that you’ll wash your rear end clean before I instinctively go down sixty-nine-style on you.”
The King then summoned his official “Director of Revels” Philostrate to the opulent-looking throne room and said, “Go out into the hinterlands and into the boondocks and announce to the lowlife citizens of metropolitan Athens and vicinity that they’re all welcome to attend the sensational wedding and subsequent spectacular dinner feast afterward scheduled for four evenings from now at precisely midnight under the full harvest moon. And Philostrate,” Theseus seriously added, “tell your big-penised gay brother Dickostraight that he’s invited to the gala shindig too!”
No sooner had the gregarious Philostrate departed the throne room (where the King’s royal toilet was situated) that Egeus, an old wrinkled man with dysfunctional bowels and myriad urinary tract disorders entered the chamber followed by his daughter Hermia and two young men, a blond-haired Adonis named Lysander and a stocky brown-haired stud named Demetrius.
“Welcome elder coot Egeus,” Theseus greeted his old (and I mean really old here) friend. “Are you in quest of some aphrodisiac formula or perhaps a mild and gentle laxative to move your fucked-up erratic bowels?”
“No my courageous King,” Egeus answered and then gulped from heightened nervousness and anger, “but here before you is my gorgeous well-stacked brunette daughter Hermia, and I wish for her to marry the brown haired suitor Demetrius because I fuckin’ don’t like blond-haired male assholes and have a deep and definite prejudice against each and every one of them.”
“So what in Hades is your damned problem?” Theseus asked Egeus. “Your daughter Hermia desires to marry this brown-haired fellow Demetrius and I presume that this blond-haired Lysander dude standing next to him is going to be the Best Man, that is figuratively speaking, ha, ha, ha!”
“That fuckin’ is the exact damned problem!” old Egeus grieved and complained. “Demetrius wants to marry and hop into the sack with my Hermia but my witchy bitch of a daughter wishes to marry and shack-up with this blond-haired son-of-a-bitch Lysander with poor young Demetrius being the goddamned Best Man, literally speaking!”
“What do you have to say for yourself Hermia?” King Theseus asked the beautiful brown-haired maiden. “From the way things look you’ve really immensely fucked-up your father’s plans. And Athenian law specifically states, but don’t ask me where the fuck it’s recorded and documented,” the King solemnly qualified, “anyway Hermia, the legal precedent states that a daughter always must obey the commands of her father regardless of what the bitch might prefer doing. In other words you must sacrifice and surrender your selfish will to your father’s commands. Do you now understand the fuckin’ dilemma you’re causing here? If every broad decided to break our time-honored traditions, then chaos and social disorganization would dominate my peaceful kingdom and hostility would reign supreme in every damned household.”
“Lysander is a fine man whom I love and cherish,” Hermia dejectedly bitched, “so shouldn’t that be the prime consideration here? I mean, don’t I have any damned choice in the apparently cut-and-dry matter? If you care to hear my personal opinion King Theseus, I believe that particular Athenian male chauvinism law that you’re citing really sucks.”
“Are there any missing pieces to this rather intriguing puzzle you’re describing?” the sagacious King Theseus requested knowing. “In other words Hermia, what the fuck else is going on in your love life besides what’s been revealed here today? For example young lady, is there some kind of secret immoral love triangle in progress? What about a goddamned love quadrangle or how about a friggin’ love pentagon?”
“Well King Theseus,” Hermia respectfully answered, “in the beginning Demetrius loved my best friend, a blonde-hair chick named Helena, and I’m not referring to Helen-a-Troy either. This brown-haired bastard Demetrius won Helena’s heart but then he dumped her and now wants to marry me in a new relationship against my will. And your good cunning and conniving pal Egeus, my senile Old Man is actively conspiring with this brown-haired son-of-a-bitch Demetrius.”
“Watch your foul mouth young woman!” King Theseus imperatively warned. “I too have ordinary brown hair and now indirectly you’re calling me a bastard and a son-of-a-bitch by association when you capriciously condemn this brown-haired suitor that your hard-working father prefers, what’s his name, oh yes Demetrius.”
“But your obsolete law is skewed to favor male domination and female discrimination!” Hermia staunchly objected. “I feel like a piece of shit piece of property being arbitrarily bartered and being capriciously traded in matrimony and I feel like during the whole screwed-up process that I’m being given the royal shaft even though I’m not having sex with any snobbish king or monarch.”
“Look you upstart Bitch!” King Theseus chided and reproached. “I must enforce and support our chauvinistic law that states a daughter must always obey her father until after she marries and then she must be subordinate to her husband first, to her father second and to her father-in-law third in that fuckin’ order. Now Hermia, you have four days to think over your limited options, which in reality constitutes really only one choice. Then I demand that you obediently return to this palace and inform me of your sage decision. Following that subservient appearance, I mandate that on my nuptial day when I intend to marry the vivacious voluptuous Hippolyta, who incidentally doesn’t in any way, shape or form resemble a hippo’, I hereby decree that you Hermia must tell me which man you intend to marry, and it better fuckin’ be brown-haired Demetrius or I’ll really get pissed-off on my special day and go absolutely berserk. To tell you the honest-to-Zeus truth Hermia I don’t want any mongrel-looking sandy-hair next generation asshole kids’ running around the streets and alleys of Athens.”
“Aren’t there any last-ditch alternatives?” Hermia desperately begged. “Surely My King, some other solution or salvation is possible.”
“Yes there is,” King Theseus chuckled and then snickered. “If you stubbornly refuse to marry your father’s choice Demetrius then you must enter a convent that’s recently been constructed for the virgin priestesses of Athena. Now do you know what in Hades that idiotic bullshit means?” Theseus rhetorically asked. “My dear Hermia, in translation it means being one of Athena’s devoted priestesses and obedient temple sweeps and that’s explicitly defined as nun in the morning, nun in the afternoon and none in the evening! Ha, ha, ha!”
“Well my King,” Hermia strongly objected, “at first Demetrius loved my best companion Helena, but then the ball-breaker, or in this case the tit-deflater changed his whimsical mind and now desires to marry me, just to curry my father’s favor and to spite my desire.”
“Male prerogative!” Theseus claimed. “Too bad you Hermia and your blonde-haired friend Helena were born of the wrong and powerless sex! Now stop boring me with your monotonous redundant female feces!”
After the crazy bizarre audience with King Theseus concluded Egeus consented to Hermia having a few minutes to privately say her final goodbyes to Lysander in the palace’s adjoining parlor room.
“Oh Lysander, if only I could run away and elope with you,” Hermia cried as she melodramatically began her silly sob story. “I’ve saved my virginity just for you but now that obnoxious shit-head Demetrius is going to violently pluck and de-stem my cherry. And my beloved Lysander, if I don’t marry someone soon I might unfortunately wind-up in the local hospital’s infamous cherry-at-tricks ward.”
“Holy Zeus Hermia! Your cheeks have turned as pale as the ones on Hades’ pallid ass! And presently your disheveled life is just as melancholy as the god of death’s morbid existence is! But don’t despair my love!” the blond-haired Lysander told and encouraged the brown-haired Hermia. “I have a tremendous plan that’ll knock your girdle right off your fat ass. A wealthy aunt of mine, a benevolent rich-bitch dowager who favors me because I’m the only blond-haired male in the whole damned family lives south of here in Sparta where the freakin’ harsh marital laws of Athens don’t apply. We’ll elope and go south and be married in the other Greek city-state if you don’t mind living a lousy Spartan existence for the next several years.”
“Holy crapola!” Hermia marveled and exclaimed. “I can escape my father’s loveless house tomorrow night while he’s preoccupied making wine and getting drunker than Dionysus. Where shall we meet?”
“What about in the forest picnic area where you, Helena and I first met and both of you dynamic bitches gave me terrific simultaneous blow-jobs!” Lysander (who was a simple stone smoother and adroit apple polisher) suggested to Hermia. “Speaking of Aphrodite personified!” the blond-haired young man gasped and exclaimed. “Here comes Helena walking up the palace marble steps now! Man, I still remember munching on her magnificent blonde beaver when the three of us got naked that first night we met in the forest and formed a really neat nude daisy ring! Hermia, if you go south to Sparta with me I promise to go south on you!”
Brown-haired Hermia expected that blonde-haired Helena would be cordial, civil and happy towards her best girlfriend (and the corresponding good eloping news) but much to her chagrin the opposite kind of reception was true.
“Hermia you whoring harlot Bitch!” Helena yelled at her former best friend and confidante. “What the hell’s this dumb-ass bullshit all about that you’ve stolen my Demetrius from me’! Where’s your goddamned screw-ples!”
“Oh dear Helena! You must be having wicked PMS mood swings!” Hermia diplomatically responded. “Demetrius loves me but in truth I totally despise him,” Hermia attempted to explain. “Instead I love Lysander but my fucked-up father wants me to marry your precious Demetrius instead and he’s effectively solicited the King’s discretion and now chauvinistic Lord Theseus has explicitly sided with my asshole Old Man. Now Helena, could anything in the domain of romance get any more fucked-up than this retarded ass-backwards dilemma?”
“Holy Zeus atop majestic Mt. Olympus!” Helena exclaimed in astonishment. “And you think that you have a nasty bitchin’ problem. The more I love my Demetrius the more the fickle prick fuckin’ hates me. I’m salt and he’s pepper and regrettably salt loves pepper but pepper loves mustard, and in the final analysis mustard loves spicy paprika. What a lot of emotionally disturbing asshole bullshit our mixed-up relationships are!”
“And the more I frown upon and curse Demetrius the more that thick-headed moronic jerk-off loves and pursues my ass with my father’s complete blessing and approval!” Hermia lamented and anguished.
“You lucky Bitch!” Helena dejectedly remarked. “I wish the Hades I was you! I’m even thinking about dying my hair and my damned bush brown! And perhaps Hermia you should consider dying your hair and your bush blonde to adequately please your lover-boy Lysander. That way you can continue to successfully woo him when he comes around to dote on you and suck-cessfully get into your hairy pink crotchola.”
“Don’t worry Helena,” Hermia comforted her distraught blonde-haired friend loud enough for Lysander to hear. “I swear by Cupid’s best golden arrow that I’ll let you in on a nifty secret and please confidentially guard it with your life. Lysander and I are running away soon to get married so therefore,” Hermia paused to catch her rapid breath, “so therefore you’ll have the muscular Demetrius all to yourself. Soon he’ll forget all about me and concentrate completely on trapping your hairy blonde beaver.”
“Yes that’s quite wonderful Helena,” the eavesdropping Lysander confirmed even though Christianity hadn’t begun yet. “Hermia and I are having a love rendezvous tomorrow night in the forest at the familiar picnic area where the three of us first snacked and munched on each other’s sexual equipment.”
“That’s really great news!” Helena commended and congratulated the two thrilled lovers. “I promise to only tell Demetrius about your elopement agenda and he and I will follow you from the dense forest to the outskirts of Athens, and if Demetrius is lucky, he’ll get under my out skirts and get to work on my sweet delicious eager blonde beaver.”
Hermia and Lysander gleefully left Helena’s company and exited the palace via a side door. The lovebirds were chatting and clandestinely finalizing their scheme to escape both the adamant Egeus and the by-the-book King Theseus’s male-by-preference jurisdiction.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
A group of frivolous gay artisans (with aspirations of becoming famous lesbians and thespians) assembled in an Athenian back-alley workshop to rehearse a selected play designed to commemorate the upcoming nuptial of King Theseus to the voluptuous Queen Hippolyta. The corny preposterous craftsmen (all suffering from delusions of grandeur) were Peter Quince the Carpenter, Snug the Wood Joiner, Rocco Bottom (also known in and around Athens as Rock Bottom) the Weaver, Flute the Bellows-Mender, Snout the Tinker and Starveling the Tailor. A jolly conversation soon ensued in Quince’s carpentry workshop.
“Is everybody here?” Peter Quince inquired above the din of inequity (sic, den of iniquity). “Let’s get this ridiculous show off the road and into my cluttered workshop immediately. I’m in a rush because I don’t want to miss tonight’s male couch dancers’ routine that’s scheduled to be performed two hours from now over at the faggot Sappho Lesbos Inn and Gay Bordello. Now the sooner we get this preliminary bullshit over with,” Quince said to his jolly friends, “the sooner I’ll be able to attend to more important duties.”
“All present and accounted for!” Snug the Wood Joiner amiably reported. “All’s perfectly fine as long as that brown-noser Snout doesn’t start tinkering inside our grimy assholes with his flea-infected nose. That curious dumb bastard always has his nose into other people’s business!”
“Okay you disgusting vermin jerk-offs, listen-up to what I gotta’ say!” Quince the Carpenter imperatively insisted. “We’ve already agreed that we’re gonna’ perform a special play for the King’s amusement and that Snug and I will build the sets and props. Are there’ any preposterous questions pertaining to that relevant bullshit?”
“Well then my gracious host, what play have you decided on performing Quince baby?” Rocco Bottom the rock bottom Weaver boldly asked. “How about something upbeat by Homer like the Iliad and the Odd Sea?”
“No you fucked-up moron!” Peter Quince sternly admonished his inane companion Rocco Bottom. “Snug and I have been assiduously studying the art form known as drama and we’ve mutually decided that we should do our creative rendition of a most lamentable little-known Babylonian comedy/tragedy entitled ‘Pyramus and Thisby.’ It’s actually a very serious one-act play about a lover named Pyramus that unfortunately kills himself after he loses his fortune in a crazy Pyramus scam. Rock, er, I mean Rocco Bottom,” Quince lectured, “my good buddy Snug and I hereby assign you Bottom to play the part of Pyramus and you don’t even have to dress-up like a corny Egyptian Pharaoh or like the Nile River to satisfactorily perform your very important part, ha, ha, ha.”
“I accept the stupid-assed part!” Rocco Bottom the Weaver reluctantly consented. “I’ll make everybody cry, especially the soap opera-oriented fatuous fat ladies. Then I’ll pick-out which gentlemen guests attending the King’s wedding reception to sodomize and ball the hell out of during the last scene, that is to say while the fucked-up bitches are bawling their ugly tonsils and larynxes out. I predict that this crazy absurd play for King Theseus and Queen Hippolyta isn’t going to be that terrible after all!”
“Great rhetoric Bottom! Really terrific and admirable speech!” Quince the burly carpenter praised. “Now then, Flute you totally dumb fuck, you’re assigned the very important part of Thisby. That’s spelled T-h-i-s-b-y and is pronounced Thisby, not fuckin’ ‘this by’.”
“What the hell does that nutcase jerk-off have to do?” Flute the Bellows-Mender anxiously asked. “Does he kick or kiss ass? Is he a gay or straight jerk-off?”
“For your information you notorious dimwit Thisby is a fair maiden that’s in love with the self-destructive Pyramus,” Quince aptly clarified. “And you won’t even have to shave your thick beard off Flute because you’re going to be wearing a mask with a grotesque-looking female face drawn on it. I know you’re going to be disappointed Flute because Thisby is a straight heterosexual young lady and Pyramus is a straight guy even when he isn’t sporting a huge erection, but that’s the fuckin’ breaks that often happen with stage productions in the standard all-too-moral traditional Greek theater.”
“What about me?” Snug the Wood Joiner asked even though he already knew what his theatrical part would be. “Am I to be a prop, a tree or a stump that asks riddle-like questions and who stumps Pyramus and Thisby? Will I get to wear a vizard?”
“No you annoying hyena’s ass, but that’s not such a bad idea that I think we could somehow incorporate into the script later on, perhaps a century from now,” Quince the Carpenter lauded the frivolous imbecile. “You Snug will play a fierce lion and your only line as a lion will be repetitiously growling ‘Raaaa! Raaaa’!” Peter Quince informed the mentally challenged fellow possessing the notoriously short memory. “Now don’t become too smug Snug! I think you could handle that simple-assed detail. Just take pride in your fuckin’ acting stint as a savage lion, that’s all the hell I ask. Do you require any further explanation?”
“Holy shit!” Snug joyfully exclaimed. “This is all quite amazing and I can’t wait to participate! If I fuckin’ growl backwards then I could get my gaseous bowels in an uproar! Won’t that be just dandy?”
“I want to play the lion with the irritable bowels!” Rocco Bottom objected. “My stomach growls so heavily and loudly that I won’t even have to fake my boisterous grumbling using my voice box. I’m sure I’d make a really fine dandy lion, ha, ha, ha. And I hope that the lion gets to fuckin’ swallow Pyramus whole and gets to marry Thisby in the end.”
“Now Robin Starveling, you attention deficit pinhead,” Quince addressed the inattentive Tailor, “you’ll have the distinct honor of playing Thisby’s stressed-out mother and then you Snout,” the Carpenter said to the almost asleep Tinker, “you’re assigned the extraordinary part of Pyramus’s fucked-up father without even having to try out for the role. What the fuck more could you irresponsible idiots possibly want? And Snout, you can even tinker with Robin Starveling’s bush since he’s been assigned to be a crotchety old disgusting woman holding a hideous-looking azalea as a prop’, ha, ha, ha, ha.”
After the rogue Peter Quince assigned the remainder of the lesser parts to the bizarre play ‘Pyramus and Thisby,’ the demanding scoundrel had one last salient announcement to convey. “I’m really in a jam,” Quince facetiously remarked to his tradesmen colleagues. “I’m afraid Rocco Bottom that your thunderous farting and your raucous growling will unfartunately scare the tits and the beavers off of all the sophisticated impressionable ladies that’ll be in attendance!” Quince criticized his associate with a contrived frown expressed on his face. “Now I want all of you excessively gay asshole thespians, including myself, to learn our difficult lines by tomorrow night so that we can rehearse this screwed-up drama and see how badly we can fuck-up and crucify this supposedly serious tragedy that’s gonna’ be shrewdly misrepresented as a comedy.” Quince then paused to gauge the impact of his speech. “Does everybody hearing my words fully understand my impeccable bullshit?”
“To be perfectly candid Sir Director I’d feel much more comfortable performing as a clown in a variety act than being involved in a ridiculous fucked-up play such as this one,” the always vacillating Robin Starveling told Peter Quince. “It’s bad enough that I’m a detestable asshole in real life that I gotta’ also be one on the damned stage in front of the King and Queen. I’m afraid that we’ll all be hung for insulting all those regal principals and distinguished guests at the wedding reception. Can’t we uneducated tradesmen just do a simple acrobat or juggling routine instead? My acting ability leaves much to be desired.”
“According to your libido-dissatisfied wife, your goddamned sexual ability leaves much to be desired,” Quince answered Starveling much to the delight of his fellow thespians. “In fact all of us gay thespians suck when it comes to performing gratifying heterosexual marital sex!”
Act II
The following night brown-haired Hermia and blond-haired Lysander met at the designated picnic area inside the dark forest and the muscular Demetrius trailed their ramble deep into the woods with blonde-haired Helena keeping a distant eye on the jealous pursuing brown-haired fellow (that the gorgeous doll wholeheartedly loved). But Quince, Rocco Bottom and the other nutcase actors were also congregating inside the forest to rehearse their highly anticipated presentation of “Pyramus and Thisby.” None of the mortal trespassers ever realized that the forest was uniquely enchanted and occupied by hundreds of fairies, governed over by Oberon, King of the Fairies and by Titania, Queen of the Pixies (including their meddling obnoxious Fairy Godmothers).
Puck, a naughty zany sprite (wearing a stupid-looking jester’s cap) who’ was especially loyal to King Oberon, encountered a dazzling girl fairy disciple of Queen Titania. The pair of gay pests instantly engaged in a curious conversation.
“Say, you look like one of the Pixie chicks! Where are you heading oh most beautiful Pixie?” Puck asked the fairy that was working for his boss’s rival Titania. “Oh, I wish I was in Pixie, who’s she, who’s she? In Pixie’s crotch I’ll take my watch, to live and die in Pixie! Go down, go down, go way down south on Pixie!” the waggish sprite sang and laughed. “What’s your problem?” Puck asked the Pixie. “Are you drunk?”
“Don’t bug my ass because I’m on an important special assignment for Queen Titania,” the attractive Pixie explicitly explained. “But don’t ask me what the hell it is Puck because I can’t fuckin’ remember anything ever since you scared the damned wits out of me during our most recent almost head-on flying collision.”
“Well then fair Pixie, I have some excellent news for you that might refresh your muddled memory,” Puck confidentially declared. “My boss Oberon the Fairy King will be here tonight causing trouble for mortals who are foolishly meandering around in the forest. He and your employer Queen Titania have had….”
“Have had an enormous argument that was capped-off with a mammoth power struggle,” the cute Pixie remembered and finished Puck’s sentence, “and there’s bound to be all kinds of unprecedented trouble and chaos later tonight around this neck of the woods.”
“It’s my good sound advice Pixie to keep Queen Titania away from King Oberon this evening until his pissed-off mood passes!” the impish pesky Puck suggested. “He’s liable to change all the human interlopers this evening into avid gay practitioners. Say Pixie, why are all the fairies gay and seemingly all of the humans that enter this ass-backwards forest weird-behaving straights?”
“It’s a fundamental rule of nature,” the informative Pixie stated, “that ‘the Sexual Preference Separation Law’ will in the near future remain between the mortal and the fairy domains but soon,” she qualified, “as humans gradually become gay there’ll be less and less faggot fairies like you and me around to pester and torment them. And when the human population becomes entirely gay,” the intelligent girl fairy continued, “then according to Mother Nature’s queer seesaw, the fairy population will become entirely straight. Does that odd truthful bullshit profoundly register and settle inside your minuscule brain?”
“Well yes, sort of Pixie, but don’t sprinkle any of your crazy fairy dust down my pants because your action might start into motion the simultaneous transitions among mortals and among us fairies that you’ve just crazily alluded to. I’m perfectly content being a fucked-up flying faggot midget jester,” Puck honestly confided.
“Now tell me Puck, what’s the basis for the ongoing conflict between my Queen and your King all about?” the Pixie curiously inquired. “That’s all we need around this strange enchanted forest is an all-out gay sex war in this already fucked-up environment!”
“Well Pixie,” Puck matter-of-factly replied, “your’ distinguished superior, the incomparably alluring Queen Titania has stolen a lovely Indian boy servant from Bombay whose father owned a new deli there. Now my boss King Oberon is jealous and wants the Indian boy all to his own but Titania will not surrender the lad in question under any circumcisions, er, I meant to say circumstances.”
“I believe naughty Puck that King Oberon wants to convert the Indian boy into the first official gay human, which will begin the process of making all of the Greek humans authentic faggots and then all of the forest fairies straight, just for the sake of pursuing his own sport and diversion,” the Pixie pointed-out to her attentive all-too-goofy listener. “And if you ever thought that being gay sucked, just fuckin’ wait until you experience what it’s like being straight! Look out Puck! Here comes your boss King Oberon approaching from the left woods. You’d better pucker-up Puck and get prepared to kiss your boss’s fat smelly ass.”
“And here comes your Queen Titania approaching from the right-hand-side woods with a contingent of attendants!” Puck observed and exclaimed. “Get’ ready my friendly Pixie’ for a fuckin’ roaring forest fire to ignite! If we fly high enough I won’t get my tiny dick scorched and you won’t get your luscious lesbian bush incinerated!”
King Oberon and Queen Titania coincidentally met in the center of a meadow, which was not far from the mortals’ favorite picnic site. Soon a not-too-pleasant dialogue transpired.
“This indeed is not a happy confrontation,” Oberon said to the equally pissed-off Fairy Queen. “I’m angry with you for not giving the little Indian boy to me so that I could perform a radical sex experiment on him that would start a new sexual revolution among the mortals’ presently mundane monopolistic heterosexual community. Some day Titania,” Oberon boldly predicted, “there’s going to be an extensive gay and lesbian community among the humans that’ll gradually fuck-up their inferior race even worse than it is right now. How long do you plan on staying in the forest?”
“I’m staying until King Theseus of Athens weds the Amazon Queen Hippolyta during the height of the full harvest moon,” Titania candidly answered her male counterpart. “Next I’m off to recruit and steal more vulnerable innocent Indian servant boys just to be a bitch and then successfully break your gay balls some more. Now Oberon, as an overture of truce, you’re welcome to accompany my pixie entourage to the gala wedding if you’d like.”
“No Titania, I refuse to accept your invitation unless you surrender that straight little Indian boy you had kidnapped while he was innocently sleeping,” the obstinate Oberon demanded. “Give the pathetic ignoramus to me and I promise I’ll gladly accompany you.”
“Go sodomize yourself at least a dozen times you arrogant faggot!” Titania admonished her principal adversary. “Come on my prized pixie followers. Let’s go and have our wet pussies eaten by the forest’s abundant gay munchkins.”
“You’ll be sorry Fairy Queen for your brazen insolence to my authority!” Oberon yelled raising his clenched right fist high into the air. “I’ll get even with you because as you’re well aware odd fairies like me always try to get even!”
After Titania, Pixie and the other lesbian female sprites abandoned the popular centrally located picnic zone Oberon and Puck had a frank conversation even though neither of them had ever been named Francis.
“Listen carefully Puck, you dumb fuck!” King Oberon emphatically threatened his chief accomplice. “If you don’t heed my words you’re going to spend the rest of your life as an abused miserable object being mercilessly battered around an ice hockey rink. Now then,” Oberon continued, “do you remember the time I saw a big-breasted mermaid riding on a dolphin’s back?”
“Yes, she was riding the porpoise on purpose I suppose,” Puck recalled and mentioned. “A siren must’ve gone-off in your mind when your eyes first perceived that beautiful mermaid, ha, ha, ha!” the flying jester remarked and indulgently laughed. “It’s hard to pull a fast one over on Oberon, ha, ha, ha! Sometimes I just make me piss myself silly, ha, ha, ha! Oberon must live ober-on Smart Street!”
“Shut the fuck up you uncouth asshole and hear the rest of my stellar oration!” Oberon shouted at Puck. “Now then Fool, that flying little bastard archer Cupid came flitting-by and soon shot his golden love arrow at the siren-in-transit, but the dart fell short of its mark and landed in a bed of white flowers situated on a cliff overlooking the sea. The flower that was de-flowered, pardon the terrible pun Puck,” Oberon proceeded narrating his intriguing tale, “that first arrow had penetrated a white flower that instantly turned purple. Puck, I hereby command that you retrieve that indispensable magical purple flower and bring it to me so that you and I can inventively perform some queer mischief on the defiant Queen Titania.”
“I’ll get the purple flower and be back in a flash, that is if lightning accidentally strikes my lily-white ass on my return trip!” Puck promised and giggled. “I’m sure that your mysterious scheme is gonna’ teach that bitch Titania not to fuck with Puck and Oberon.”
After Puck flew away to execute his unusual floral assignment Oberon imagined and mentally reviewed his marvelous plan for the implementation of the magic purple love flower. ‘I’ll squeeze the love sperm out of that purple flower directly onto Titania’s eyelids the next time she goes to sleep in the forest,’ the Fairy King creatively thought. ‘And I won’t remove the crazy love spell until my female rival gives me that straight little Indian boy jerk-off so that I can surreptitiously conduct my revolutionary queer sex experiment on him. I intend to eradicate the whole human race by making all of those miserable mortal assholes gay. Then they won’t be able to reproduce and eventually the whole civilization of straight-turned-homo’ bastards and bitches will within a century become extinct, ha, ha, ha!’ Oberon gleefully considered. ‘It’s really great being a scheming omnipotent ball-breaker and tit buster! Ha, ha, ha! Oh my, what’s that I hear behind those bushes? It’s human voices. I’ll fuckin’ eavesdrop’ on their ludicrous conversation.’
Oberon and the other gay and lesbian fairies and pixies were invisible to human eyes so there was no logical reason for the Fairy King to be stupidly crouched-down listening to the humans’ ever-unfolding melodrama. Blonde-haired Helena had finally encountered brown-haired Demetrius, who had been furtively following his love’ the gorgeous brown-haired Hermia who was eloping with blond-haired Lysander. Demetrius was not-too-thrilled learning that Helena had discovered him on his furtive forest ramble.
“You had said yesterday outside the King’s palace that I would find Lysander and Hermia here,” Demetrius screamed at the love sick Helena. “You fuckin’ bitch liar! If I do see that dirty wimpy prick Lysander I swear with all my heart I’ll kill the filthy rotten bastard for stealing away my charming Hermia!”
“Oh Demetrius, I love you!” Helena cried and pleaded. “Why must it be that almost every eligible bachelor in Athens loves me and the one thick-headed asshole I do love despises my’ guts! What kind of fucked-up poetic justice is that?”
“Well Bitch, I happen to hate your guts and your cunt and asshole too!” Demetrius rebuked the golden-beavered Helena. “My stomach turns sick just at the sight of you! In fact Helena, I feel like vomiting my breakfast, lunch and putrid dinner all over the fuckin’ forest ground right now!”
‘It makes me sick too to look at you!’ the disconsolate Helena lamented and thought. ‘Why do I have to be in love with such a repulsive and bellicose son-of-a-bitch! Oh handsome belligerent Demetrius,’ Helena pondered and sadly mused, ‘please don’t hit me in the belly ‘cause it already aches!’
“Well Helena, since you have nothing further of relevance to say,” Demetrius angrily stated as Oberon listened-in on the heated argument, “I’ll rapidly run away and leave you far behind and hopefully you’ll then be attacked and eaten by hungry beasts. You can only be fuckin’ wolfed-down and digested one time you know!”
“The carnivorous wolves, the lions and the bears can’t be half as cruel and vicious as you are!” the distraught Helena sobbed and wept. “You’re an emotionally lost asshole! Demetrius, sometimes you can’t see the damned forest for the trees!”
Chauvinistic Demetrius was so insulted from being savagely reprimanded by a mere female’ whom he thoroughly despised that he rambunctiously sprinted-off leaving poor sensitive Helena behind to drown in her sorrow. The eavesdropping Oberon then got an inspiration and mulled it over in his immortal roguish mind.
‘I feel sorry for the blonde young lady being maliciously dissed and jilted by that petulant jerk-off!’ Oberon decided. ‘I’ll use the effects of my fantastic magic to soon have that brown-haired bastard crave that lovely blonde-haired girl’s golden bush.’
Moments later the impish Puck returned with the aforementioned purple love flower that Fairy King Oberon had assigned the zany jester to obtain. “Here’s the flower you had specifically stipulated,” Puck said to his master. “This beautiful sucker looks like a damned rendezvous point for the birds and the bees, ha, ha, ha.”
“I’ll squeeze the sweet sperm juice out of this love flower onto the sleeping Titania’s eyelids,” Oberon proudly informed Puck. “Now carefully take a portion of the potion and place it upon a nearby angry Athenian man’s eyes also. Then perhaps I have tricked the gay Pixie Queen Titania to fall in love with the temperamental sleeping Athenian straight man. The Fairy Queen will then beg me to lift my enchantment and next she’ll surrender that little straight Indian boy to me so that I can corrupt his morals and make him the first gay perverted kindergarten kid in either mythology or history. What do you think of my naughty plan dear Puck?”
“This super-mischievous erotic bullshit really excites my psyche,” Puck commented. “It’s a definite departure from everyday boredom. Maybe My King Oberon I’ll squirt any remaining purple flower drops onto your eyes and then you and I can have a budding affair going! Ha, ha, ha!” the flying jester chuckled. “Just kidding Lord Oberon! Ha, ha, ha. Just kidding!”
“Get the fuck out of here you little blooming idiot squirt!” Oberon inadvertently double-punned. “Now the first lady that the Athenian jerk-off will see after opening his bleary eyes will be the babe he instinctively falls in love with, possibly against his own free will. I must voluntarily get involved with this human heterosexual crap before I can get the Indian boy into my custody and then I’ll further interfere by transforming the entire mortal straight population into a global community of gay bastards and lesbian bitches.”
“I’ll do precisely as you say Master!” Puck cooperatively complied. “And if there’s any drops left over after I administer them to the Athenian asshole then I’ll squirt them onto my diminutive dick just to see what the fuck happens!”
“Get that shit done before the cock crows at dawn!” Oberon commanded the zany Puck.
“I’ve been watching my dick for many centuries now King Oberon and I’ve never seen my cock crow once, be it morning, afternoon or evening when I’m always intensively examining my tiny pecker!” the silly Puck laughed and cackled. “Oh well Boss, I can attest that there’s certainly more significance to being a frivolous flying fairy than being a common ordinary peon pecker checker!”
After Puck flew away to conduct his clandestine mission Oberon discovered Titania sleeping in the forest and the mischief-maker proceeded to squeeze several love drops from the magic purple flower onto her eyelids. ‘I hope that the first creature she sees is a grotesque-looking vile-tempered beast so that this stubborn Bitch is adequately punished for her imprudent impudence. These enchanted love drops will make this impertinent Pixie Queen Bitch come to her senses in a hurry. Then my rival Titania will surely comply with my expressed wishes!’
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Not far away inside the dense forest Lysander and Hermia were having second thoughts about defying King Theseus. The lost lovebirds were feeling quite queasy in their stomachs.
“We’ll rest and relax here until dawn,” Lysander said to the beautiful Hermia. “Then we might get lucky and see the light when the sun rises. But I caution you that we’re not out of the woods yet.”
“Okay my dear Lysander, I’ll sleep under this bush and you can sleep over there under that tall oak tree,” Hermia suggested. “I know you’d prefer sleeping under my bush but that kind of kinky sex-play won’t happen until after we’re officially married in Sparta.”
“Or we could move to a far-off land called Australia where I could become a boner-fide transplanted African bushman down-under,” Lysander joked. “Let’s get some much-needed shuteye so that we’re well rested to continue our arduous trek to Sparta. I hope my rich aunt doesn’t fuckin’ drop dead before we get there.”
When Hermia and Lysander dozed-off into pleasant dreamland the frolicsome Puck showed-up, mistook Athenian Lysander for the Demetrius and then squirted the powerful love potion/aphrodisiac onto the blond-haired dude’s eyelids, all the while thinking that he had been fulfilling Oberon’s imperial decree. ‘These juices will efficaciously activate the sex juices in your mortal testicles!’ Puck evaluated and giggled. ‘Now you lucky recipient, you’re guaranteed to wake-up with a massive hard-on! Oh how envious I’ll be!’
After the sportive Puck abandoned the scene Demetrius came into the vicinity pursued by the bad-luck blonde-haired Helena. The brown-haired strongman then sprinted even faster and soon easily outdistanced and lost his golden-haired chaser. Completely out of breath Helena stumbled and accidentally came across blond-haired Lysander sleeping with his head against the base of the tall oak tree.
‘It’s Hermia’s prospective husband Lysander!’ Helena shockingly thought. ‘I must wake him up. He could help me find Demetrius and be a good arbitrator to help soothe our all-too-rocky relationship.’ On second thought, screw that shrew Hermia! I desperately need Lysander to help me solve my lovers’ quarrel.’
Helena violently shook Lysander’s shoulders and woke him up, not realizing that the love potion from the purple flower would instantly make the blond-haired fellow fall deeply in love with the voluptuous blonde-haired Athenian chick.
“Oh Helena! I never realized how fantastic you look and how much I love you!” Lysander strangely wooed the extremely beautiful girl. “I would run through flames just for you because my great balls are on fire right now! Holy shit! What in blazes am I saying?”
“What the hell’s wrong with you?” Helena challenged Lysander. “You’re acting like you’ve just contracted that brutal Angry Steer/Mad Cow Disease!”
“Tell me kind Helena, where is that dirty bastard Demetrius who has been incessantly shunning and abusing you?” Lysander insisted on knowing. “I’ll beat the living shit out of him for arrogantly offending your virtuous integrity!”
“You’re mocking me Lysander because you know that Demetrius resents and abhors me as if I were a bitchy whore,” Helena mildly reprimanded her new suitor. “But now you feel you must persist in making fun of my already overwhelming emotional suffering. Don’t you know the meaning of the words ‘compassion and empathy’? The least you could do is be a sentimental slob! I was totally mistaken when I had erroneously thought that you were more considerate than you actually are, you male chauvinist pig!” Helena chastised. “Go find and grovel to Hermia and pump the poop out of her, you contemptible creepy crawler! You’ll never get to see and lick my golden beaver again, that I solemnly promise you!”
Helena was so distressed and out-of-kilter from her resisting Lysander’s peculiar unexpected advances that she instantly scurried away with her newfound suitor in hot pursuit. Meanwhile Hermia awoke from her extended forest sleep and wondered what had happened to her handsome but now missing Lysander. The brown-haired horny beauty impulsively dashed into the woods searching after the dashing young man, who was preoccupied (by his all-too-forceful love spell) dashing with a full erection after the completely bewildered and frightened blonde-haired Helena.
Act III
Meanwhile in another part of the dark dense forest the dumb-ass aspiring actors Quince the Carpenter, Snug the Wood Joiner, Flute the Bellows-Mender, Rocco Bottom the Weaver, Snout the Tinker, and Starveling the Tailor had congregated in a clearing to begin rehearsing the preposterous comedy/tragedy play “Pyramus and Thisby.” Queen Titania was still sleeping nearby (simultaneously) under the enchantment of the purple love flower’s juice (that had been administered by Oberon).
“Let’s get started on learning the lines of this nonsensical play,” Quince insisted. “Snug and I still have to build the sets and nail together the cheap props.”
“I smell trouble both developing and enveloping us here,” Snout detected with his keen long nose. “Maybe we should rehearse this dumb bullshit in your workshop Quince?”
“Nonsense you pathetic gutless wimp!” Quince yelled at the gay fellow whom he sometimes called “Tinker Bell,” who incidentally needed his bell rung.
“Well wait a daisy-picking minute!” Rocco “Rock” Bottom the Weaver joined in. “Snout, as argumentative as he is, has a very good point besides the one situated on top of his pinhead. I think that several necessary significant changes have to be made in this totally fucked-up play.”
“I agree and I’m a true believer that now categorically concurs with the Weaver,” Starveling the Tailor rhymed and contributed to the oddball discussion. “Several much-needed alterations have to be made, ha, ha, ha!”
“Like what?” Quince lividly retorted. “Like you two Assholes want to be bigger stage assholes? Like you two assholes ought to master how to play billiards so that you can learn your cues.”
“This mixed-up lover Pyramus that I’m playing must kill himself and I don’t know if I’m ready to commit suicide either in real life or on the stage!” Rocco Bottom argued as his mind hit rock bottom. “In my humble opinion I’d rather commit homicide than suicide! And besides,” Bottom futilely debated with the all-too-inflexible Quince, “all of the dignified ladies in attendance won’t savor seeing violence and the like, especially the ones whose husbands come home drunk every night and beat the living shit out of them.”
“I agree with Rocco Bottom a hundred percent,” Flute the long-winded Bellows-Mender piped-up. “We have to leave sins like killing, manslaughter, lady slaughter and cow slaughter out of the plot or else the wimpy women will be boisterously screaming ‘Bloody murder!’ Perhaps if a prologue is written into the script explaining what’ll be happening next then the maudlin broads won’t be so maudlin when Bottom according to his lines commits suicide.”
“All right you inane retards in leotards!” Quince was finally convinced. “I’ll make that minor adjustment just to tailor to your concerns Starveling and also for you Bottom. Now I suppose I’ll have to become a playwright to get this play right. Instead of cabinet smithing I’ll have to learn the fucked-up art of word-smithing too!”
“And what about the ferocious lion scene?” the inquisitive animal hater Rocco Bottom asked the already flustered Peter Quince. “The beast will certainly scare the ladies out of their underwear during the mane event and they’ll all probably start wildly masturbating out of nervousness during the play’s climax!”
“Well then, exactly what should I do about that exciting lion scene bullshit Bottom?” Quince worried and appropriately asked his antagonist. “I never really felt a need to consider that unnecessary possibility!”
“In the beginning during your boring prologue also tell the audience that the lion is make-believe also just like Rock Bottom’s, er, I mean Pyramus’s suicide is a staged pretend activity,” Rocco Bottom suggested because only Starveling the Tailor could skillfully tailor a recommendation along with Flute the Bellows-Mender.
“You two frivolous jerk-offs should’ve been alchemists because you both have strange solutions for everything,” Quince commended his garrulous gay pals. “Now let’s begin rehearsing this serious production because before you know it it’ll be the crack of dawn and you’re all fully aware of how we all hate pussy, even Dawn’s pink dew-laden slit, even though unfortunately we each had plopped out of a mother’s wet smelly crotch when we were born.”
While the fussy actors were having their own real-time dialogue about the upcoming play Puck nonchalantly flew into the area in his “invisible mode” and discovered the exotic Queen Titania sleeping nearby. The spritely fellow then heard the arguing actors’ voices and had an inspiration even though he was breathing (inhaling here) and really didn’t require any inspiration at all. ‘Just for my own amusement I’ll change the guy in the purple robe by giving him a donkey’s head!’ Puck thought and giggled. ‘Ha, ha, ha! That guy looks like a pathetic jackass even without a goddamned donkey’s head!’
When Bottom had departed the imaginary stage Puck converted the idiot’s head into a huge three-dimensional real-looking donkey’s face and when Rocco the Weaver playing the role of Pyramus again entered from stage left the donkey-headed Bottom scared the living shit out of his thespian companions, who all instantaneously shrieked and then imitating frightened jack rabbits and antelopes hightailed it the hell out of the rumored-to-be enchanted forest.
“What the hell’s wrong with those crazy faggot assholes!” the surprised Bottom said to himself as the naughty invisible Puck listened and chuckled. “This must be some childish prank or trick they’re playing on me and I don’t relish their nursery school shenanigans one iota!” the donkey-headed queer gent (who was unaware of his new queer physical appearance) sulked and bellowed. “Those trouble-making jokers can’t make either a horse’s ass or a damned donkey out of me!” Then to dramatize his absurd point Bottom began hee-hawing and braying like a psychotic neurotic donkey. His frenetic disturbance woke-up the sleeping Titania, who instantly became aroused both from her slumber and sexually as well.
“Oh magnificent handsome beast, your sweet melodic voice has thrilled me and I feel quivers and tingles traveling all over my horny body!” Titania solicited and propositioned the peculiar man with the donkey’s head. “I love you fair creature but if you also have a donkey-dick to match your donkey head, then quite possibly the idea of sex is out of the question!”
“What the fuck’s going on here?” the beguiled Bottom hollered. “You’re not in the fuckin’ play Lady! And I fuckin’ despise women, especially beautiful dazzling ones like you!” Then Bottom reconsidered. ‘On second thought, getting propositioned and laid don’t seem like such repugnant and alien ideas after all. I’ll just stay here and see if I can dicker with this attractive bitch! Great Zeus on Olympus! I feel my dick rising already! I suppose I’m ready to dicker right now!’
“Don’t you dare leave my company you strong, dark and handsome fellow,” Titania begged the partially transformed beast-of-burden Bottom. “You’ve successfully aroused my primal animal instincts. I’m a rank pixie of high rank and I feel I love you and desire getting vigorously pumped for the first time up my snatcheroo even if you possess an incomparable tremendous-sized two-yard-long donkey-dick. In my love-struck mind,” Titania qualified to the bewildered Bottom, “I don’t give a shit about that donkey-dick phobia notion anymore or about abandoning gay sex either!”
“What the fuck’s wrong with your head lovely woman!” Bottom the Donkey Head inquisitively asked. Then the Weaver thought deeply for a moment. ‘Shit, I’ve never gotten good head from a lesbian fairy before. Just wait until I tell Quince, Starveling and the others about this incredible bullshit. Those greedy faggots might become jealous when they learn that a lesbian pixie sucked me off free of charge! They’ll never believe my fantastic story in a million years, but on second thought this scenario is the fuckin’ imaginative and stimulating play-in-progress we ought to be giving for King Theseus’s and Queen Hippolyta’s entertainment instead of that fucked-up melodrama ‘Pyramus and Thisby’.’
Titania then summoned all of her tiny pixie subordinates to attend to Bottom by putting flower garlands around his ears and then petting, caressing and stroking his body and hideous-looking head while Titania riveted her wet tongue in and out of the very gratified Donkey’s left ear. “Sleep oh magnificent creature so that I may admire and covet your body!” Titania encouraged the totally gratified and delighted Rock Bottom. “I’m certainly glad that you’re being cooperative and not stubbornly mule-headed like my former bisexual boyfriend the bullheaded cretin Cretan Minotaur was!” the Pixie Queen romantically and dramatically praised.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
While Titania was wasting her valuable time admiring the sleeping Donkey-headed Rocco Bottom the flying sprite Puck, alias Robin Goodfellow, reported back to his vindictive master Oberon, King of the Gay Faggot Fairies. At first the casual conversation was cordial and pleasant.
“Guess what happened to Titania?” Puck rhetorically asked. “She awoke from her one-chick slumber party and has miraculously fallen in love with a grotesque-looking animal, a hideous donkey-headed human freak of nature, I do believe. Some wannabe’ moonlighting actors were in the forest rehearsing a really bad play they plan to perform at King Theseus’s wedding reception and Titania was fast asleep nearby all during the fiasco. I then magically changed one of the fool actor’s odd-shaped head into a donkey’s moniker,” the impish irascible Puck communicated to Oberon, “and when the shit- head returned to the makeshift stage the victimized asshole scared the Hades out of his astounded buddies, who all ran the hell out of the forest. I’ll tell you Boss, it was a gas without me even farting! Then,” Puck proceeded to comically relate, “Titania awoke and instantly fell in love with the, and I mean this literally Lord Oberon, instantly fell in love with the stupid ass!”
“Well done Puck, you’ fabulous simpleton fuck!” Oberon congratulated his mischievous chief errand boy. “Now then, did you come across the Athenian young fellow that I told you to put the magic drops into his eyes?” Oberon sternly inquired. “If you did as I had commanded I’ll promote you from Lieutenant Jerk-off Jester to full-fledged Senior Captain Jerk-off Jester.”
But before the ecstatic Puck could answer his austere Master, Helena stepped into that particular forest area followed by the brown-haired Demetrius (and not by the blond-haired Lysander). Immediately Oberon recognized that Puck had been incompetent and had completely fucked-up his important assignment by casting the spell on the wrong Athenian male target. Oberon and Puck (invisible to the humans) listened to the mortals’ heated quarrel, almost wishing that they themselves were human. But then Demetrius dashed away and Helena soon stumbled upon the sleeping Lysander. The blonde-haired chick immediately awoke the blonde-haired stud.
“I love you Helena,” Lysander claimed. “I’ve forgotten all about brown-bushed Hermia and presently think only of you. Now give me a kiss or two right’ here on my kisser! I can’t wait to marry you and fuck the Hades out of your luscious pink hairy golden love tunnel.”
“I absolutely loathe you Lysander!” the totally addled and confused Helena retorted. “I love Demetrius but I feared that you had already killed him while I was sleeping. If my apprehension is correct Asshole,” Hermia admonished the young man, “then I insist that you murder me too so that our souls could be reunited in the daffodil-laden Elysium fields of Hades.”
“What does Demetrius have that I happen to lack?” Lysander asked. “Surely not greater strength, bigger biceps and a longer thicker dick! I just can’t fathom your illogical reasoning during this crucial time of our relationship.”
“He’s sincere, sina cera, meaning ‘without wax’ in another language,” Helena definitively replied. “You’re too fickle and moody and you’re much like a statue with patches of wax covering-up your all-too-numerous flaws. In other words Lysander, despite your blond hair you’re a detestable bully and a deplorable brute and I despise every ounce of flesh on your stocky body including the meat inside your goddamned pulsating penis.”
“Well Helena, I want you to know that I’ve not hurt or injured that puny punk jerk-off Demetrius although I’ve been tempted to beat him to a pulp on many occasions, and that’s no pulp fiction either!” Lysander honestly replied. “But if that interfering asshole ever again pisses me off,” the blond-haired Adonis threatened, “I’ll punch him in the jaw with a solid stiff uppercut and consequently send that brown-haired handsome bastard lunatic soaring all the way to the goddamned moon!”
“I hate you more than I loathe sin itself’!” Helena screamed at Lysander. Then the upset and puzzled Helena sprinted away to escape the relentless advances of the desperate love-struck suitor. Soon the emotionally exhausted and physically drained Lysander sat down and (then after becoming somewhat comfortable) the young man rested in a horizontal position, lying near a pond and soon gradually fell asleep.
Meanwhile Demetrius (without being accompanied by any gladiators) became exhausted and slept in the deep dark forest. Oberon and Puck quickly discovered the fatigued brown-haired Athenian snoozing and snoring.