a translation of Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet to modern English and American culture. a work in progress.
I ain't gonna take this shit, Greg.
Fuckin' A. You know what takes shit, Sammy? Fuckin' toilets, man. We ain't fuckin' toilets.
I'm just saying. They start shit, I'm not makin' any promises.
Maybe you should worry about your own shit first, dude.
Line in the sand, bro. Line in the fuckin' sand.
Yeah, you keep sayin' that, and you keep movin' the fuckin' line.
Hey, it's the fuckin' Montagues movin' it, Greg, not me.
So, what, you running from the Montagues now?
I'm running toward the fuckin' Montagues, Greg. I will fuck up any bitch they throw at me.
Takes a real man to slap hos around, Sammy.
What good are the fuckin' Montagues if I can't get me some pussy out of them?
Eyes on the prize, man; it's Monty's boys makin' trouble.
Same fuckin' difference, bro. Once I'm through with the boys, I'll make the bitches bleed too.
Like they ain't bled already.
Take it how you want, man.
Sounds to me it's those Montague sluts gonna be takin' it how you want.
Who could turn me down, bro?
I sure could, Sammy.
Hey man, get ready. Here come the fuckin' Montagues.
I was born ready, bro. You wanna start shit, I got your back?
Yeah, you'll be at my back so you can run.
I'm serious, man.
That's what I'm afraid of.
Let's play it cool, man. Let them throw the first punch, yeah?
I'll stare 'em down, see what they think of that.
Fuck that, bro. I'll flip 'em off, they can't let that stand.
Hey, you flippin' us the bird, bro?
I am flippin' the bird, bro.
You flippin' us off, bro?
Hey, can they start shit if I say yeah?
Nah, man. I ain't flippin' you the bird, man. But I am flippin' the bird.
You got a problem, dude?
Bro, no, bro. I ain't got a problem, bro.
Hey, you got a problem, I'm your man. My boss is just as good as yours.
He's not any better.
Better say he is; that's the boss's nephew over there.
Nah, man. Boss Monty ain't shit.
Come at me, bro.
Whoa, calm the fuck down, guys. The fuck do you think you're doing?
Oh, look who thinks he's a big man, pickin' a fight with the help.
Look me in the fuckin' eye while I end you, Benvolio.
Hey man, I'm just trying to stop a fight. I'm not trying to start trouble. So either drop your piece or help me out here.
I'll fuckin' make peace with my piece, ya dig? Now you gonna stand there or you gonna fight?
Surround them! Tybalt Capulet and Benvolio Montague, you are under arrest for attempted murder and disturbance of the peace!
What is going ON here? Someone get me my rifle!
What will you do with it, you old fool, prop yourself up with it? This isn't good for your health traipsing around like this at all hours!
I'm going to plug that bastard Montague, Martha! Look at him, shooting up my boys to spite me!
Capulet! You senile old coot — let go of me, Sylvia, I'm going to put that son of a bitch down for good!
You're going back inside to sleep off that whiskey, is the only place you're going, Montgomery!
You're surrounded! Lay down your arms and come quietly or you will be fired upon!
Montague! Capulet! This is the third time you've incited riots in this city! You're going to be facing the death penalty if this happens again.
Get them in a squad car. The Mayor wants a word. Montague: city hall, this afternoon. If you're late, I will personally throw you in jail.
Alright, who started it this time? Benvolio? You see what happened?
Some of our guys were fighting Capulet's, boss. I tried to stop them but then that cunt Tybalt came after me with a fucking gun. I guess the gunshots drew a crowd. It was all kind of a blur until the Chief showed up.
Romeo wasn't involved in this, was he? Was my dear boy hurt?
No, no. I saw him earlier, actually. Had a bad trip at the club on Sycamore last night and I was trying to get some fresh air. Dunno why he was over on the west side, he's always too prissy to come skirt-chasing with me and the boys, but it looked like he was out for a walk. I tried to catch up with him but I think he wanted to be alone too. Ran off into the Everglades and I couldn't find him.
It's not the first time he's been over there. Spends half his mornings wandering around the west side crying his fool head off. Always home by sunrise though.
Then he comes home, locks himself in his room with the window shut. Lives in South Florida and the boy's pale as a ghost. It's not good for his health. Christ, it's probably time I found him a counselor.
Shit, boss. What d'you think's up with him?
Damned if I know. I've given up prying it out of him.
Maybe a pint'll get him talking.
Hell, Benny, I've tried. And his friends have, the ones he hasn't driven away. They used to go out drinking every week but now he just sits alone and broods. If we could just figure out what's wrong with him, we'd do anything to help the poor kid.
Hey, speak of the devil. Look, boss, lemme talk to him. I'll get the story out of him, one way or another.
Hah. Good luck, Benny. You'll need it. Come on, Sylvia, let's head home.