It all began earlier this month, in Tim's harmoniously decorated living room:

Dix: "That's perfect, Tim.  Just tilt it a little more to the left,---oh, 
damn.  Ro, could you grab Frank before he takes it out and buries it again?"

Tim is wearing black tights and doublet and a heavy gold chain hangs below 
the ruff around his neck.  He is posing at the moment on a low dais in front 
of the fireplace and has just dropped a polished human skull which Frank has 
seized with a joyous yelp...

Dix is standing at an easel, painting an oil portrait of Tim in his period 
costume.  Rowan is amusing himself with a broadsword, taking cuts at a bowl 
of chrysanthemums on the side table.  As Dix speaks, he misjudges his swing 
and lops the heads off several blossoms.

Rowan makes a dive for Frank and disengages the skull.  Frank shrugs and pads 
over to the couch to wait for another opportunity to arise.

Tim:  "My arm was getting tired anyway.  We should have gotten a plastic 
skull from that shop on Hollywood Boulevard; this one weighs a ton."

Dix: "It's all right,--I only needed to put in a couple of highlights.  Well, 
what do you think?"

Tim and Rowan come over to examine the portrait.

Rowan: "Apart from making him look impossibly handsome and gallant, not a bad 
job.  Now is it my turn?  Horatio, I may add, is incredibly suave, debonair 
and has to beat the village maidens off with a stick.  Just thought I'd 
mention it."

Tim [casually studying his fingernails:] "Who's Hamlet?"

Rowan: "That bit of miscasting will go down in history alongside young 
what's-is-name who turned the sinking of the Titanic into a giant sudsy blob 
of thirdrate soap 
opera."

Dix [Automatically:]  "Boys, boys.  I've got to pick up some more cadmium red 
and another tube of ebony black before I start yours, Rowan.  In the 
meantime, why don't we go over one or two of the songs?"

Tim: "'Hamlet's Father's Ghost?'  Do I still get to push him off the 
battlements or did this wuss persuade you to drop that bit?"

Rowan: "It was artistically unnecessary."

Dix: "I left the kick in, though."

Rowan: "Low horseplay. But it should amuse the groundlings."

Dix hands Tim a music score and sits down at the piano.  Remembering that she 
can't play a note, she slides over so Rowan can join her on the bench.  He 
plays an ominous chord, then strikes up the melody.

Tim [singing:]

 Hamlet's Father's Ghost

A carefree Danish lad was I,
So bright of eye and merrily pranking,
Son to a king who might never die,
Future assured, I passed time by,
No need to study law or banking
Because of my illustrious ranking.

Then came the news I looked for least,--
All in a moment my destiny muddied:
Father deceased, Mum married a beast,
(Dear Uncle Claudius, hands all bloodied)
The while I was larking, in Lover's Lane parking;
Once in a while I even studied...

And now this Ghost!
One of the things I dislike most
(Well, after spiders, rats,
Snakes, eels and bats,
Grim creditors 
And maidens' fathers),
Hath laid a charge on me
To bring his slayer to the gallows tree...
In this dark age of pestilence
And hurried death
'Tis seldom indeed that anyone bothers
To seek a remedy
For Hell's unsought adversity...

I'll ask advice of good Horatio;
Next dear Ophelia,
He's my bosom chum.
And yet I'd be inclined to let it slide,
Grim Spectre at my side,
Had Uncle Claud' not married Mum."

Tim: "And then I get to spin the 'Ghost' around and help him on his way with 
a hearty kick, right?"

Rowan [sourly:] "Yes, well, no need for further rehearsal until I pop a bit 
of plywood down my tights.  There's too much realism in the theatre as it is."

Dix: "Anyway, Rowan is doubling so many parts that we mustn't wear him out.  
Wasn't it sporting of the Pasadena Playhouse to let us fill in there for a 
tryout week?"

Tim: "Yes, very.  Just what is it that you have on Manager Filmstrip?  He was 
sweating profusely when we took him out to lunch yesterday."

Dix[innocently:] "Why, nothing.  Nothing at all.  He's just very very 
kind...and he has  
two younger brothers who happen to while away their time by disrupting 
shipping in the Carribbean."

Rowan: "Piracy on the high seas?"

Dix: "Almost.  They run a travel service of sorts..."

Tim: "And naturally their elder brother is bitterly ashamed."

Dix: "Well, quite.  His own life is spotless and he's afraid they'll find out 
and jeer at him as a spineless jellyfish and other colourful terms."

SFX: Doorbell.

Tim [going to answer the door:] "That must be the set designer. She has some 
original ideas we may want to discuss."


         *                *               *       


We left our friends beginning rehearsals for a new musical extravaganza 
(lyrics and dialogue by Dix with an assist from William Shakespeare).  They 
were interrupted by the doorbell...

Tim opens the door and sees

Dix:  "Christine!  How nice of you to drop by.  We're quite busy at the 
moment, so get lost,--" (she begins to close the door firmly, but Christine 
has a death grip on the knob)

Tim: "It's all right; she came to show us some sketches for the scenery."

Dix: "Oh.  Bugger."  (standing aside to let Christine enter.  Christine, 
behind Tim's back, puts her tongue out at Dix, which almost costs her her 
future ability to taste...)

Rowan: "Excuse me, but you left a few people standing on the doorstep."

He opens the door again and several demure-looking Timbos enter:  Jami, 
Cheryl, Mary Ann, Linda F, et al, with Cap'n Martha efficiently herding them 
before her.

Dix: "Um, I wasn't aware that we were holding a fan club meeting..."

Christine: "Everyone just happened to be in the neighborhood."

Dix: "And the iceberg just happened to be where the Titanic couldn't miss it."

Rowan [pouring oil on troubled waters:] "Are those the sketches?"

Christine opens her portfolio and spreads several sheets of paper on the 
coffee table.

Christine: "We all thought that black velvet draperies with the Danish royal 
arms embroidered in gold would be the appropriate touch for the throne room."

Dix: "Lovely...except that Tim will be all in black during the entire play 
and when he enters that room only his head and hands will be visible to the 
audience.  Try blood red...here, let me demonstrate (picking up a fruit knife 
and beckoning to Christine, who is much too intelligent to accept the 
invitation)."

Tim: "Dix is right; red will work better.  What's this large object 
downstage?"

Cheryl [speaking up eagerly:] "The bubble bath.  We can get a beautiful 
marble one wholesale and it should be very effective."

Rowan: "I thought that Cecil B. deMille had died."

Dix [ominously:] "And Tim isn't going to do a Lili St. Cyr onstage in this 
production.  This isn't the Aquacade."

Cap'n Martha: "It was really just a thought.  The first act curtain needed a 
little hook to keep the audience on the edge of their seats."

Dix: "Yes, perhaps.  But do we really want them leaping OUT of their seats 
and mobbing the stage?"

Mary Ann: "We could always run a few lengths of barbed wire just below the 
footlights..."

Linda F: "That's settled then.  I'll bring the bath salts...what fragrance do 
you prefer, Tim?"

Tim [sighing:] "That doesn't matter so much as getting the kind that makes 
PLENTY of foam."

Jami: "Are you sure that Hamlet takes a bath in the original play?  I mean, 
people living in the Dark Ages didn't usually...I don't think they even had 
soap then..."

Cheryl: "Does it REALLY matter?"

Jami: "You're absolutely right!"

              *                *                *

Later that day, at the Pasadena Playhouse.

Our trio has decided to do a run-through of their parts on the actual stage 
to get their marks set and test the props.
Dix: "Come over here, please, Ro, and we'll try your ballad."

Rowan takes his position next to Dix who is seated on the edge of a "brook" 
making a daisy chain with some plastic daisies.

Rowan [singing:]

  Only Thee

As Hamlet's closest friend
My dear Ophelia,
Our closeness soon must end;
How can I make amend?
(I'd love to steal ya.)

Only thee
Cans't charm the bird
From out the tree;
Cans't call the fishes
From the sea,
To my poor door,
Thou art the key;
Upon my knee
I make my plea
To only thee...

If Hamlet shoulds't discover
I am thy favoured lover,
Then soon amongst us three
There'd be
Only thee!

Rowan and Dix finish the number with an embrace and kiss...

Tim [tapping his foot:] "All right, we get the idea.  Now how about letting 
me go over MY graveyard number?"

Beside a simulated open grave onstage, Tim kneels and reverently picks up the 
skull prop.  He rises and begins to sing:

  Alas, Poor Yorick

The teeth are familiar,
But he had a lot more hair...

Alas, Poor Yorick,
So gaunt and hollow-eyed;
A glass to Yorick,
Who seemeth mort-ified.
This pass, Poor Yorick,
Hath left thee looking pale,
But be of good cheer
My old friend so dear:
Thou mights't have died in gaol.

Alas, Poor Yorick,
Thou'd make a drunken wreck sick;
How crass, Poor Yorick;
Thou lookest anorexic.
And yet some benefits 
Are conferred by death;
No longer can thy friends say
That thou hast got bad breath.

Dix: "I'm not completely happy with that last verse, so try not to memorize 
it, Tim...I may come up with a rewrite."

Rowan: "Oh, I don't know; it seemed appropriate to me.  And never forget: 
halitosis is better than no breath at all."

Tim and Dix both groan.

Tim: "I think we should call a halt for now anyway.  My tights have 
split,--again,--when I knelt by the grave."

Dix: "Hmm.  I'll have to have a word with our seamstress.  In the meantime, 
come backstage and I'll fix you up."

Rowan: "I'll just go along.  You may need me to hold your thimble or 
something."

             *             *             *     


Later that same evening.  Tim is back in his freshly mended tights and our 
trio decides to plow valiantly on with the rehearsal.  As they leave Tim's 
dressing room, the sound of voices in the hall attracts their attention...

Bryan [wearing a beard and brandishing a knife:] "...'if 'twere done when 
'tis done, 'twere well it were done quickly...'"

Deborah [in a long red gown and pointed headdress:] "'--Infirm of purpose! 
Give ME the daggers!'"

Dix: "Ah, what are you two doing?"

Bryan: "Rehearsing.  We hurried right over."

Deborah [eagerly:] "Yes,--I've always wanted to play Lady MacBeth."

There is a moment of stunned silence.  Then Dix and Rowan reach out quickly, 
tweak each other's noses and clap hands with each other while reciting in 
unison:

"Hot potato / Orchestra scores / Puck will make amends!"

Tim: "'Angels and ministers of grace, defend us!"

Bryan: "Uhhh, don't tell us that you're NOT doing Mac--"

Tim's hand closes over his mouth before he can finish the unholy word.

Dix: "I'm sure it's just a silly superstition, like all those others:  no 
whistling backstage, green is an unlucky colour, never carry a broom upside 
down..."

At this moment a small rumpled figure opens the far door of the hallway and 
enters.  He is wearing a ragged green sweater over his unmentionable 
garments, carrying a broom upside down and whistling off-key...

Tim: "Maybe we should find another theatre.  In another galaxy."

Rowan: "I believe we're doomed.  My fault,--I meant to kill Baldrick 
immediately after breakfast but didn't get around to it."
 
    *                   *                     *

Oddly enough, the rehearsal seems to be going quite smoothly from this point. 
 That is, for awhile...

Dix: "Nice makeup, Ro.  Let's hear Polonius' song now."

Rowan [in a curly gray beard and matching eyebrows, takes center stage and 
sings:]

  Always Feel the Goods

Stay, dear son Laertes,
A word before you go;
Thy father has advice for thee
To smooth thy future destiny
Upon this earth below.

Never borrow from your friends
And don't lend money either;
Careless spending quickly ends;
Friendship needs a breather.
Dress as lord and not as lout,
Avoid bad neighborhoods
And when you lay your ducats out,
   Always feel the goods.

Don't put anything shoddy
Upon your fair body;
  Always feel the goods.

Dix: "Very nice.  Now, Tim, let's go over your scene with your mother, Queen 
Gertrude.  Has anyone seen Christine?"

Linda F [diffidently:]  "I believe she's umm, lying down backstage."

Rowan: "Odd girl.  She was really throwing herself into the role this 
morning."

Dix: "Yes...I thought at one point that I'd need to throw water on her."

Tim steps into the wings and almost trips over Christine's recumbent body, 
next to which is lying a large sandbag.

Tim: "Uh, Dix..."

Rowan [coming up beside him:] "Looks peaceful, doesn't she?  There's even a 
small smile on her face.  Dix..."

Dix: "Wait a minute!  I didn't do it.  I've been much too busy.  Darn, now 
we'll have to audition a replacement."

Linda F [with a slight cough:] "Actually, I'm up in the part..."

Tim and Rowan raise their eyebrows. Dix rolls her eyes and hands Linda a prop 
crown.

Onstage, Linda as Queen Gertrude is seated on an elaborately carved throne, 
stage right.  As Tim approaches her, bowing in filial respect, she takes a 
bunch of grapes from the fruit bowl at her elbow and languidly pops one into 
her mouth.

Hamlet: "Madam, I heed thy urgent summons.  What wouldst thou?"

Gertrude: "You always were obedient, my lord.  But why keep up thy foolish 
pretense of duty?  Thou knowest that I am NOT thy mother."

Hamlet [puzzled:] "Pardon?"

Dix [in the prompter's box:] "Uh-oh..."

Gertrude: "Come nearer, sweet youth, and I shall a merry tale unfold to thee: 
 thou knowest of thy father's sad unlooked-for and untimely passing -- as he 
took his ease in the garden, some passing serpent didst drop poison'd venom 
into his kingly ears."

Tim is paging through his copy of the script in vain, looking for his cue.

Gertrude: "Whereupon thy mother, overcome with widowed grief, didst throw 
herself into the open grave...and then the sexton, being old and demented and 
wanting his tea, didst fill the hole in haste and pat down the earth.  Thy 
Uncle Claudius then turned to me, fair Lydia, and cozened me to be his trophy 
wife."

Dix has left the prompter's box and walks unnoticed to the wings...where the 
fire extinguisher is hanging on the wall.

Hamlet: "Umm, this is all very illuminating, Mother,--I mean Aunt Lydia,--but 
aren't we straying a bit from the script?"

"Aunt Lydia" rises from the throne and walks purposefully toward Tim.

Lydia: "Don't you know that a boy's best friend is his...auntie?"

There is a movement behind the draperies upstage accompanied by a hacking 
cough. Tim, relieved to hear a cue he recognizes, draws his sword and slashes 
at the curtain.

Hamlet: "How, now!--a rat! Dead, for a ducat,--dead!!"

Rowan, aka Polonius, falls dramatically onto the stage, displaying a 
spreading red stain on his shirt.  Tim stands back, aghast.

Rowan [whispering:] "Just food colouring.  Effective, isn't it?"

Linda F, still in character as Aunt Lydia, clasps Tim in her arms: "You might 
have been killed!"

Dix comes up behind her with the fire extinguisher, reverses it, and bonks 
her on the head.  As she slips to the floor, Mary Ann who is busy attaching 
the barbed wire along the footlights, gasps.

Mary Ann: "I could do Gertrude,--I know all her lines!"

           *            *            *

After a week of strenuous rehearsal, marred by the usual accidents, backstage 
sniping, replacements of half the cast, etc., our show is hopefully ready for 
its gala opening....

Jami [peering through the curtains:] "Oooo, looks like a sellout crowd!  
Every seat is full."

Dix: "Well, some of it is paper,--I sent personal invitations to several 
influential people."

Mary Ann: "Remember, if Cheryl can't go on as Gertrude for any umm, reason, I 
can fill in at a moment's notice..."

Dix [suspiciously:] "Cheryl seemed fine to me.  All right, let's have that 
bottle of Evyan water..."

Mary Ann hands it over, pouting. 

Mary Ann: "It's just a refreshing little formula of my own..."

Dix: "All right,-- let's see YOU drink it."

Mary Ann: "I'm not thirsty,-- [glub, glub, glub]"

Dix, to Baldrick: "Drag her back into the wings and stack her with the other 
Timbos with bright ideas."
   *              *               *
The orchestra begins to play the overture and the curtain goes up to reveal 
Bryan as narrator, center stage, and a group of village louts and maidens 
upstage left and right.

Bryan speaks the Recitative:

Draw near, good folk
And hearken to my tale
Of bloody murder, 
Foul and unnatural,
Dark schemes of power,
Madness and travail,
Of kingly thrones usurped
And maids forsaken.
And when thou these have supped 
Unto thy fill, thou'lt say
That we dost bringeth home the bacon.

Revenge and justice
Be our noble themes:
Prince Hamlet shall bring down
His father's slayers.
He'll hazard his fair wits
To catch a crown
And set at naught
His Uncle's wicked schemes,
Presented here by us,
Thy humble players.

Now feast thine eyes
Upon this trial of kings
At Elsinore, that vast and stately dome;
Prepare for battles, 
Lusts and poisonings,
Sensations that thou canst not get at home.

The village louts and maidens here begin to whirl into a folk dance, singing:

"Hamlet, Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, 
He's our shining hope;
Down with wicked Uncle Claude
And his wife, that Gertrude bawd,
Someone fetch a rope!

Sweet Ophelia'd be our first choice
For our Hamlet's bride;
So her wits are slightly scattered--
Who shall say it ever mattered?
Queens insane have died.

Hamlet too sees ghosts and spirits
Sith his reason fled.
Heigh-ho, 'tis a pretty notion:
Speak the speech and pour the potion;
While the cast falls dead..."

They exit to the flourish of trumpets.  The curtain falls, then rises on the 
rampart scene.  Tim and Rowan do "Hamlet's Father's Ghost" as rehearsed, then 
link arms and segue into a flashy tapdance as the orchestra plays, "The Old 
Gray Ghost, He Ain't What He Used to Be."

Backstage, Dix is putting the finishing touches on her Ophelia makeup: pale 
and tragic with a hint of drop-dead-sexy and gorgeous.  Cap'n Martha helps 
her arrange her flowing gown, studded with artificial field flowers.

Martha: "Listen to that applause!!  I hope those network executives are 
impressed."

Dix: "I sent them each a case of champagne too, to put them in a receptive 
mood."

Christine: "Umm, Dix, I can't find either Cheryl or Mary Ann..."

Dix [sighing:] "Figures. Hop into Gertrude's costume, and don't let anyone 
help zip you up.  That's how we lost Connie.  If I'd known that the queen 
would be such a popular role, I might have taken it myself..."

Christine [throwing open her robe to reveal the queen's costume:] "I didn't 
want to wait till the last minute."

Annie, in costume as a village maiden, wanders in, holding a small 
brightly-coloured snake.

Annie: "We aren't doing a Cleopatra bit, are we?  I just found this in the 
queen's fruit basket."

Dix: "Drop it out into the alley, along with the tarantulas and the skunk.  
Baldrick's days are definitely numbered."

Baldrick: "Three days and one day are...some days.  But I never put them 
creatures in with the props, Miss."

Dix: "I know.  It's the Curse operating.  Oh, well, go and help the stage 
hands -- by staying out of their way."

         *               *              *          


All is going very well so far at the premiere performance of our little show. 
 The audience, most appreciative, has been applauding, whistling and cheering 
amid calls for "Author!!"

Dix [in the wings:] "Well, most of it is mine, but I'm not going to dig Will 
up just to take a bow..."

She steps onstage with Tim and the curtain rises on their scene in the 
castle's rose garden.  They are revealed sitting on a rustic bench, "Hamlet" 
taking "Ophelia's" hand as he begins their duet:

  Should Lovers Part?

Hamlet:

Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remembered;
Thou so chaste,
(What a waste!)
Preserve thy maiden bloom.
Get thee to a nunnery
Whilst I attend the gunnery:
I shall never rest
Till my foes lie dismembered.

Ophelia:

Stay, dearest Princeling;
Why shouldst we be parted?
This, thy sham madness,
Wears thee but as a cloak.
I mightst aid thy deep campaign,
Help thee to attain thy reign;
Pray, Hamlet, sweeting,
Let me in on the joke.

Hamlet:

Ravishing Love-dove!
Thou hast slain my caution.
Knowest thee, thou canst
Command me with a look!
Still, take this warning:
Leave the court by morning;
Stay not to pluck the flowers
--Oh, and DON'T go near the brook.

They kiss and the curtain falls.

The next scene finds Queen Gertrude (still Christine, for a wonder) seated on 
her throne, nibbling at now snake-free grapes.  Hamlet enters stage left and 
makes his obeisance on one knee.

Hamlet: "Madam, thou didst send for me?"

Gertrude [cautiously sticking to the script:] "Indeed, fair son.  I have 
heard report that thy sweet temper seemeth something out of sorts sith thou 
didst return from university.  Be reassured, thy kind stepfather and myself 
did nothing credit those false foul reports concerning thy involvement with 
the sheep.  And the bursar's three daughters.  And the common-room gaming 
incident when all the lamps did expire and someone made off with the entire 
treasury including thy classmates' lunch money.  Lies, all lies, didst we 
reply."

Hamlet: "Quite right, too, Mother.  And if there's nothing else, I have 
knives to sharpen..."

Gertrude: "Nay, stay by me awhile and hearken:  the rumour also sayeth thou 
hast lost what wit thou formerly had.  Not a great deal, God wot, but such as 
might have come in useful shouldst thou ever rule.  Or go to sheepherding, 
Heaven forfend.  What say you of this canard?"

Hamlet: "I once did have a canard in a cage...full sweet its fair piping 
didst amuse me.  Till I mistook it for a raging boar and slew the foul animal 
even as it charged.  'Twas most delicious served up with dill pickles and 
dung."

Gertrude [relieved:]  "I knew it for a false and wicked lie.  Thy wits are 
even keener than their wont.  I must e'en embrace thee, such is my relief!"

Gertrude rises from her throne and crosses toward Hamlet, but halfway across 
the stage lies an unnoticed open trap door.  She drops from view.  

The audience sits frozen in shock, but almost immediately the trap rises 
bearing Gertrude looking as regal as ever...

Dix [in the wings:] "...and about two inches taller.  Melissa.  I see that 
we're still playing 'Musical Queens.'"

         *               *               *

And now the curtain riseth (rises) on the final act.  The fight scene between 
Hamlet and Laertes (Rowan filling in again) is about to begin when Dix 
notices a tiny discrepancy among the cast...

Dix: "Oh, God.  SIX Queen Gertrudes onstage at the same time...there's 
Christine with a bandage on her head, Linda F, ditto; Cheryl, Melissa, 
Deborah and -- Cap'n Martha!  Baldrick!!  Did you bring that prop I sent you 
out to get?"

Baldrick smiles and hands her a cardboard box with several air holes punched 
into the lid.  She sets it down and opens it -- and a dozen white mice scurry 
across the stage.

In a moment there is a mob scene of queens taking cover and climbing up the 
flies to evade the squeaking little furballs.  Hamlet takes the opportunity 
to skewer Laertes, then gulps the poisoned goblet thoughtfully prepared for 
him by dear Uncle Claudius (whom he then stabs in the groin. And the Great 
Hall.)  The stage is now littered with the dead and dying as a nod to the 
original play. 

Rowan: "Get off my foot, you git!"

Baldrick [as cup-bearer:] "Sorry, my lord.  Want a grape?"

     *                  *                  *

Later, backstage our friends are removing their makeup and congratulating 
each other on the rousing success.

Tim [coyly:] "It looks as though those free passes produced a few nice 
offers, too." (He takes out a document and hands it to Dix.)

Dix: "This looks like,--"

Tim [very very pleased:] "A six-month option on the play, WITH the original 
cast."

Rowan: "And what company is to have the honour of subsidising our efforts?"

Tim [pulling out a business card:] "Ahhh, seems to be ABC..."

Dix: "Tell me you didn't sign this thing!!"

At this moment there is a knock at the door.  Baldrick opens it and there is 
a small man with unruly gray hair and glasses, which he has just removed the 
better to wipe tears of laughter from his face.

Man: "I've never enjoyed Shakespeare so much in my life!!  I must have the 
rights to this,--blockbuster of a play!!!"

Dix: "Well, I'm afraid..."

Man [extending his hand:] "Oh, sorry,-- should have introduced myself. 
Stephen Spielberg."


The Absolute End.

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