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Rosencrantz and Guildenstern's Journal
 
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Below are the 4 most recent journal entries recorded in Rosencrantz and Guildenstern's LiveJournal:

    Monday, August 26th, 2002
    4:43 am
    Wasn't Laertes planning to kill us?

    Probably. But you know, we've made a valuable discovery for mankind here.

    Hmm?

    Get Laertes sozzled enough and he's nearly a human being.

    And Hamlet?

    He used to be one. I personally blame the Danish weather for converting him on us.

    Damn that weather.

    Why is Lartes eyeing us like that?

    I'd rather not think about it.

    More drink?

    Please. I can still see straight.

    Alright. More ale! Put it on Hamlet's bill, would you?

    Can we truly kill a man we have gotten drunk with?

    Let's give them a cardboard cut-out and run then, maybe.

    That would be good.

    I think there's a bug in my drink.

    Well, take it out and get your ale back. Greedy insect.

    Yes, it could have just *asked* for some.

    How do you manage to pump the chest of a bug?

    Delicate precision, my dear Guildenstern. Delicate precision.

    Aww. He's still dead.

    I stop short of giving it mouth to mouth. Last time I tried that, I ended up eating the thing.

    Good source of protein, you know.

    Not doing it.

    EAT THE BUG!

    I'm going over to Laertes now.

    Bah.

    You coming?

    Would I say no?

    Heh.

    Current Mood: drunk/very drunk
    Tuesday, August 20th, 2002
    2:46 am
    I do so love the sea, don't you, Rosie?

    Certainly. The birds, the lechorous sailors making vague comments about how plump little college boys squeal nicely, Hamlet's muffled cries from the sack.

    Maybe we should let him out to enjoy this.

    He wouldn't understand. Besides, sunlight makes him hiss.

    That captain is a worriesome bloke. All those comments about pirates.

    Yes. Guildy? Tell me what Falstaff meant about the cabin boys.

    No.

    Please?

    I don't want to have to rock you to sleep again.

    YOU MEAN HE EATS THEM?

    ...not quite.

    Where are we going again?

    England, you pillock.

    What's there?

    Cheap tabloids focused on the royal family. We're trying to get an internship.

    And Hamlet?

    Oh, we're bringing him there to die.

    Cool.

    I thought so.

    So if he doesn't eat the cabin boys, what does he do with them?

    Shut up.

    Current Mood: annoyed/curious
    Monday, August 19th, 2002
    11:55 am
    A hundrrrrrrrrred bottles of beer on the wall! A hundrrrrrrrrrrrrred bottles of beer!

    There are not a hundred bottles of beer left. You've made a significant dent in there. The bartender will never forgive us.

    I paid, didn' I?

    I don't think he understood the concept of paying with plastic, Rosie.

    'm sorry, Guildy. I'm just a man ahead of my times.

    You were going to be dead ahead of your time if I hadn't dragged you out of there, you great pillock.

    Hush. I had them right where I wanted them.

    Surrounding the table while you hid under and screamed like a little girl?

    Exactly.

    You're hopeless.

    But cute! Can't deny the cute.

    I'm going to smother you in your sleep.

    I can take you.

    Of course you can. We take our Lord Hamlet on his sea voyage tomorrow, we do. Shall I leave out some aspirin for you?

    I don't get hangovers! A fine trait of my line.

    A bottle, then.

    Please.

    Current Mood: Exasperated/Drunk
    Sunday, August 18th, 2002
    5:35 am
    Lord Hamlet, he's gone round the bend.

    Of course he's gone round the bend, you pillock. That's what they sent us to question him for!

    I was just trying to set the down. Give an idea, you know.

    If he sees this we'll be in a load of trouble.

    What? He'll quack like a duck at us again? Or what did he do last time...call you a saucy lass and--

    It's hard to get answers out of someone who's busy calling you his dear 'Ophie' and talking about the mating rituals of horses, that's all I'm saying.

    Complainer.

    Twit.

    Mother said we'd come to a bad end. You're becoming just like her.

    My mother was a wise woman. Yours just said we'd grow up into a pair of backstabbing rowdy college boys.

    Ale?

    Yes, please. Long boat ride ahead of us.

    Did you hear Hamlet telling that girl to go off and be a nun earlier?

    Penguin fetish, I told you.

    Downright disgusting, really.

    What's royalty coming to these days?

    Hell in a handbasket.

    More ale!

    Current Mood: Dual
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