Summer P Horton

My friend Bri reads like a crazy-space-rocket-enhanced-android-thing.  Seriously, I can loan her a book at the beginning of a writing group meeting, and by the time we say goodbye, she’s handing me back my book because she’s already finished it. To quote the captain o’ my heart, she’s fast like a freak.

As a result, Bri has read considerably more than I have.  So, when we were discussing terrible names for sets of twins (Ophelia and Desdemona! Pretty and romantic!  And also… uh… very dead and tragic and whatnot.  But pretty!) and I mentioned that I didn’t know Desdemona’s story, she was glad to fill me in on Shakespeare’s Othello.  (If you’re unfamiliar with it, here’s the Wikipedia entry.)

Now, that’s a great story.  Seriously, good stuff.  Nice going, Wills.  BUT.  I couldn’t help thinking…

What might an updated summary of Othello look like?

(Cue the Wayne’s World DOODIDOO, DOODIDOO, DOODIDOO dream sequence arms, please.)

“Oh, hai Othy.”

“YOU SLEPT WITH JIMBO!”

“You mean Iago?”

“WHATEVER!”

“I totally did not!”

“Handkerchief!”

“Uh. >.> I got that at a garage sale, k. My sister gave it to me.”

“LIAR!”  *muffled screams, pillow noises*

*convenient timing* “Hey, Des, do you know where my pink glitter tank is? I can’t find it – Oh, hey, Othello, what are you doing here?”

“Uh. >.> Nothing.”

“GASP! :O  YOU KILLED DESDEMONA!”

“No I didn’t!”

“Yes you did!”

“I did not!”

“UH, SHE’S DEAD AND YOU’RE HERE!”

“… okay, I did. BUT IT WAS TOTALLY NOT MY FAULT, OKAY?! She was macking it with Iago at Roger and Susan’s wedding!”

“So you KILLED her?!”

“…well, yeah.”

“You don’t even know for sure!”

“HANDKERCHIEF!”

“Dude, you wack. HALP! HALP! THERE’S BEEN A DEADIFICATION!”

“What? No, don’t- argh.”

“Yo, Em, what up?”

“HE KILLED DESDEMONA!”

“What, seriously? Dude, not. cool.”

“HANDKERCHIEF!”

“Zomg. Iago, this is your fault. I told you that Jerry Springer stuff was going to cause trouble!”

*DEATH BY STABBINESS!*

“Whoa. That was kind of suspicious. So wait, Des wasn’t really getting down with Iago?” *FENCING!* “Mercy is the mark of a great man. (stab.)Guess I’m just a good man. (stab.) Well, I’m alright.”

“Guys, this is messed up. You are both going to jail.”

“NOT ME! *selfstabby* Ow.”

THE END.

As I pointed out to Bri, the above may be a good example of why I don’t work for Cliffsnotes.

Happy Tuesday, everyone!