There are two versions here, the first one was just a cold writing, the second in the revised version.
WRITING PROMPT: Romeo and Juliet, Derailed
You watch the play.
"I don't remember Romeo and Juliet going like this," you whisper to your companion.
500 Words or less.
It’s such a classic play that it’s almost not worth paying the money to see. We all read it in high school and, most likely, you watched the 70’s movie version. I remember my 9th grade English teacher hurrying to cover the screen during the scene where you see just a flash of Juliet’s breast.
But, the tickets where cheap, so my husband and I thought, “Why not?” From the get go, we could tell something was wrong. At Romeo’s first entrance he nearly fell off the stage.
My husband leaned towards me and whispered, “Is he drunk?”
I grinned, “Looks like.”
He chuckled.
As the show went on Romeo seemed to regain his composer. He never stumbled with his feet or his words and I began to be impressed with his performance. Then the dual scene arrived. Again, I noticed that Romeo wasn’t quite right.
He was clenching his fist and you could see the sweat glistening on his fore head. All his lines came out in short, angry burst. All the other actors were watching him with mixtures of fear and concern.
“…And so, good Capulet,--which name I tender as dearly as my own,--be satisfied.” Romeo practically barked.
My husband and I traded askance glances. As Mercuitio and Tybalt began to duel I saw the Romeo looked eager to jump in to the middle. As he leapt into the fray, Romeo pulled out his sword and instead of trying to block Tybalt’s sword from reaching Mercuitio, he swung at Tybalt.
Tybalt leaped back his a shout of surprise, barely blocking Romeo’s wild strike.
"I don't remember Romeo and Juliet going like this," I whispered to my husband.
“Me either,” he replied.
There were whispers all around us as the audience watched Tybalt desperately defend him self. It was only then that I realized that there was a distinct difference between the two swords. Tybalt’s sword was dull silver, like painted wood. But Romeo’s sword was bright and shinny and every time the swords struck a small piece of Tybalt’s sword flew off.
“That’s a real sword!” someone shouted from the audience.
A woman screamed as Romeo slashed down, his sword biting into Tybalt’s right shoulder. I found myself standing with my hands over my mouth before I even knew it.
“Take that you bastard!” Romeo screamed as Tybalt crumpled to the floor. Several men came running from the wings and tackled Romeo to the ground.
As the men wrestled him, trying to keep him still, Romeo just kept screaming, “How dare you! How could you sleep with her! You said you loved me!”
My husband was standing beside me and all we could do was stare at each other. Four men finally managed to drag Romeo off the stage while others ran to help Tybalt. Someone called for a doctor and an older man wearing a green tweed coat came on stage and asked us all to leave, promising in the same breath to refund our tickets.
We all filed out of the theater, every one muttering about the night’s events.
“Well, that was entertaining,” my husband said.
All I could do was laugh.
Normally I wouldn’t bother going to see Romeo and Juliet because everyone has read the script at least once in high school, but, the tickets where cheap, so my husband and I thought, “Why not?” From the get go, we could tell something was wrong. At Romeo’s first entrance he nearly fell off the stage.
My husband leaned towards me and whispered, “Is he drunk?”
I grinned, “Looks like.”
He chuckled.
As the show went on Romeo seemed to regain his composer. He never stumbled with his feet or his words and I began to be impressed with his performance. Then the dual scene arrived. Again, I noticed that Romeo wasn’t quite right.
He was clenching his fist and you could see the sweat glistening on his fore head. All his lines came out in short, angry burst. All the other actors were watching him with mixtures of fear and concern.
“…And so, good Capulet,--which name I tender as dearly as my own,--be satisfied.” Romeo barked.
My husband and I traded askance glances. As Mercuitio and Tybalt began to duel I saw that Romeo looked eager to jump in to the middle. As he leapt into the fray, Romeo pulled out his sword and instead of trying to block Tybalt’s sword from reaching Mercuitio, he swung at Tybalt.
Tybalt leapt back with a shout of surprise, barely blocking Romeo’s wild strike.
"I don't remember Romeo and Juliet going like this," I whispered to my husband.
“Me either,” he replied.
There were whispers all around us as the audience watched Tybalt desperately defend him self. It was only then that I realized that there was a distinct difference between the two swords. Tybalt’s sword was dull silver, like painted wood. But Romeo’s sword was bright and shinny and every time the swords struck a small piece of Tybalt’s sword flew off.
“That’s a real sword!” someone shouted from the audience.
A woman screamed as Romeo slashed down, his sword biting into Tybalt’s right shoulder. I found myself standing with my hands over my mouth before I even knew it.
“Take that you bastard!” Romeo screamed as Tybalt crumpled to the floor. Several men came running from the wings and tackled Romeo to the ground.
As the men wrestled him, trying to keep him still, Romeo just kept screaming, “How dare you! How could you sleep with her! You said you loved me!”
My husband was standing beside me and all we could do was stare at each other. Four men finally managed to drag Romeo off the stage while others ran to help Tybalt. Someone called for a doctor and an older man wearing a green tweed coat came on stage and asked us all to leave, promising in the same breath to refund our tickets.
We all filed out of the theater, every one muttering about the night’s events.
“Well, that was entertaining,” my husband said.
All I could do was laugh.
