NM/CL Tourney: Hamlet vs Red Riding Hood

“They’re demons, Horatio!  You cannot see them, but they pester me so.  Open your eyes you damn fool.”

            “Yes,” said Horatio.  “Demons, indeed.  Vicious buggers, I’d wager.”

            “You’d wager correct, sir!”  Hamlet swung the sword viciously through the air, sending the blade into an imaginary imp.  The blade slammed into the brick and mortar of an Elsinore courtyard with a clang.  “Of all the damnable…Horatio!  Bring your ass here this moment.  They’ve gotten craftier.”

            “I’d say, my lord,” said Horatio, the mildest hint at bemusement in his voice.  “First the cockroach business and now this.  I must find this god Kafka that you have spoken of.”

            Hamlet struggled with an invisible beast.  “If we stop the demons perhaps we can stop the metamorphosis, Horatio.  Please help me,” he grunted as he pushed the mirage away and swung the blade through the air.  “Oh, and the god’s not named Kafka any longer.”

            “Beg pardon?”

            “No time for pardon begging, chap!  Fiends are about.  We must thwart them.”

            “That’s all very good, my lord, but what is this about the god.”

            “Oh, that.  He’s no longer Kafka.”

            “The hell you say, prince.”

            “The hell I do.  He’s Barbee now.”

            Horatio bitch-slapped an imaginary demon and grabbed Hamlet by the collar.  “There, the demons gone.  You’ve been snorting stuff again, haven’t you?”

            Hamlet shrugged.

            “Dammit all to hell, my lord.  You must stop this nonsense.  Tell me, as you did about Kafka, do you converse with this Barbee?”

            “Aye, Horatio.  I’ve known him well.  Not only is it inevitable that I’ll turn into a cockroach, but I’m doomed to have my face melted away by a being not of this world.”

            “Oh, please.  If you’re going to talk of fuckery, then I’ve nothing to do with you until you find yourself sober.”

            “Watch out, Horatio!”

            The Prince pushed his friend to the ground and thrust his blade through the air.  Assuming it was at another hallucination, Horatio stood ready to lecture his college roommate.  His finger was already pointed and a rant already formed.  But when he arose the words dissipated.  Hamlet held his sword, now a young lady was skewered on the end.

            “I got one,” said the prince sheepishly.

Hamlet vs Red Hood


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