Rating: R for cussing.
Word Count: 250 words (tiny.)
Notes: Warming up my S&A writing fingers.
Geoffrey wanted Richard to understand what Shakespeare really encompassed. He wanted him to know exactly what he was fucking over at every turn, with every wrong decision and every envy-filled action. He grabbed Richard’s hand and dragged him onto the stage, swirling in an arc that caused his coat-tails to billow. He let go and stood across from the General Manager, stabbing a finger southward with pointed deliberation.
“This, right here, is where we first met. I thought she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. And it wasn’t her eyes, which gazed at me through a veil of deeply fierce insecurity, or her smile, which was forced and stilted, or even the way she half-sat, half-lay, preparing to discuss the third act with the other actors. It was her mere presence. I knew, in that moment, that she was going to be my entire life.”
“Ellen! Ellen, of course.”
“Geoffrey, I’m not sure I follow you. Why am I here again?”
“This is it, Richard. This is Shakespeare. It’s love and passion and ambition, jealously, hatred, madness, paranoia. It’s the inexplicable, undeniable truth. It’s one man, one body of texts, hundreds of years of interpretation and fuck, it’s mindblowing. It’s everything.” Geoffrey advanced with each word, bringing a hand up to emphasise a point here, a point there.
“You’re scaring me.”
“You, Sir, have the soul of a bureaucrat!”
“Why, thank you, Geoffrey. I guess you have the soul of a director.”
“You insufferable little pissant.”