The Play’s The Thing

Jack and Joleen left the community college theater to walk home. Little flakes of snow started falling around them. 

“Now is the winter of our discontent,” Jack said. 

“Aw shit, snow, it’s gonna be a shitsnow and whatnot,” Joleen moaned. 

“Shit snow? Ah yes, Joleen, ‘tis true – brevity is the soul of wit.” 

“Yeah, I guess,” Joleen said, pleased he thought she said something funny. 

Joleen grew up in the south Texas valley and really hated snow. She met Jack at the University of Houston and they immediately hit it off. She dropped out after a couple of semesters and got a job as a secretary at the old Schlumberger headquarters near the campus. She moved in with Jack into a crumbling old yellow brick bungalow on the east side. 

She never could understand what Jack saw in her. He was majoring in English. He’d burst out laughing when she would say things like “boy howdy” and “you know whut?” and “I tell you whut” and “thingamajigger” and how she often ended her sentences with “and whatnot.” That’s just the way she talked, she couldn’t understand his fascination with it. He was such a nerd, but she adored him because he was so romantic and so smart, always teaching her new words. She picked up her reading habit from him. 

After Jack graduated, they moved to Waterloo, Iowa so he could teach English at Hawkeye Community College. It was the only place he could find a job, mainly because his uncle was a bigwig banker and a city council member there. He got things done. 

So here they were, walking home in the snow in Waterloo, Iowa after a play. 

Jack said, “The play’s the thing but for my own part, it was Greek to me. It was a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing. The play made the world a stage and the actors had their exits and their entrances. And in the play, one man in his time played many parts.” 

“Yeah,” Joleen sighed. “I thought the play sucked too.” 

After a couple of blocks, Joleen stumbled and went sprawling on the pavement. She struggled to get up. 

“Frailty, thy name is woman,” Jack laughed. 

“Shut up, dickweed, and help me up. Man, thy name is Jack Ass.” 

“The lady doth protest too much, methinks.” He finally tried to help her up, but it was too late. 

“Methinks? Methinks I’m about to slap you, Jack Ass.” 

“Methinks the course of love never did run smooth, but sweetheart, I have loved not wisely but too well.” 

Joleen melted. “Aw.” 

A policeman on a horse passed them. “A horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse!” Jack shouted. 

“Your kingdom, Jack? What kingdom? We can barely pay the rent. Good thing that play was free for faculty members. You don’t make squat as an English teacher and I don’t get hardly any tips at that damn student hangout bar, the dipshit cheapwads.” 

“Dipshit cheapwads?” Jack smiled. “Remind me to write that down when we get home.” 

“Boy howdy, you and your short stories,” Joleen smirked. “They don’t pay no rent, either, I can tell you that much.” 

As they neared downtown and their old wood-frame house, they came across a few scraggly-looking men, probably homeless, hunched up close to a garbage fire. 

“Lord, what fools these mortals be,” Jack muttered, then suddenly stopped and held Joleen back. “Is this a dagger which I see before me, the handle toward my hand? No, wait! It is the blade that is pointed toward my head! Ah, the valiant tastes of death but once!” 

Just then, the policeman clopped up on his horse. Jack pointed at the man with the dagger and yelled at the policeman, “Off with his head!”  

The policeman said, “Oh, I don’t think that’s really necessary. C’mon Jerry, you don’t want to go to the clink again, do you? Why don’t you just round up your friends and go down to the shelter and get out of the cold?” 

“Aw, ok,” Jerry said in a blast of liquored breath. “C’mon, boys, let’s go.” They shuffled off. 

Joleen hugged Jack. She was scared, relieved, and horny all at once. “I tell you whut,” she said. 

They had walked another couple of blocks when Jack exclaimed, “Halt! What light through yonder window breaks?”  The light came from a downtown mission where a few people sat on benches listening to a young African American woman, eyes shut, thumping a tambourine on her thigh and singing soulful lyrics about the Lord. 

The cold night, the near attack, and that hauntingly beautiful voice heightened their senses, feeling the familiar mutual itch. Jack pulled Joleen off into a little ally besides the mission. 

Jack held her and whispered, “If music be the food of love, play on. Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? We are such stuff as dreams are made of. Joleen, oh Joleen, I love that name, but what’s in a name? A rose by any other name would smell as sweet. A rose is a rose is a rose, and you are my blooming rose! We know what we are but know not what we may be. The best is yet to come!” 

Joleen couldn’t stand it anymore. She kissed him passionately and covered his crotch with her hand. 

“Get thee to a nunnery!” Jack teased. 

“Stop it, Jack,” Joleen panted, “Get thee to our bed and take your stupid clothes off, pronto.” 

They hurried home, blasted the door open, and were naked by the time they reached the bed. They made passionate love several times over until they were both exhausted. They lay in a luxurious languor afterward.  

After a while, Joleen took in a took breath and said, “You were doing that Shakespearean nonsense again, weren’t you? I mean it’s sexy and all, but I’d like to think it is coming from your heart, not your memory. I got to thinking, after all this time, we’ve never actually gone to a Shakespeare play, right? Have you ever, you know, actually been to a Shakespeare play?” 

“Whether ‘tis nobler in the …” 

“Cut the crap, Jack. Have you?” 

“You didn’t let me get to the part about the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. The sling is no, I haven’t gone to a Shakespeare play, and the arrow is no, I’ve never actually read the Shakespeare plays assigned in school all the way through. Most of it is just too damn obscure and boring. There, I said it. The outrageous fortune is that you finally asked.” 

“So, where’d you come up with all that stuff?” 

“The world wide web is a wonderful thing.” 

“Boy howdy, I tell you whut.” 

And with that, they went to sleep, perchance to dream. 

Copyright © Johnny Clack 2022