SHAKESPEAREAN JOEY
                            ------------------
(Fade in on Joey who is sitting in a tree, Joey is a little kid with no 
respect for his father.)

DAD'S VOICE:
	Joey!  Itıs time to come in for supper!

JOEY:
	Iım not hungry!

DADıS VOICE:
	Come on!  I made your favorite!

JOEY:
	You made sloppy Joes?!

DADıS VOICE:
	No!  I thought your favorite was eggos and potatos!

JOEY:
	Yuck!  Iım not coming in until you make sloppy joes!

DADıS VOICE:
	Youıre going to be a sloppy Joey if you donıt get you skinny 
	white back side in here... now!

JOEY:
	But daaaaad!

DADıS VOICE:
	No buts, get in here!

JOEY:
	OK OK (Clibs out of tree.)

(Fade out.)

(Fade in on Joey entering the kitchen after supper with plate in his 
hand.)

DAD:
	Hey kidd-o how was supper?

JOEY:
	I thought it sucked.

DAD:
	(Thinking Joey is being sarcastic plays along.)  But I worked so 
	hard on it.  (Laughs and ruffles Joeyıs hair.)

JOEY:
	(Getting offensive.)  Hey stupid!  Donıt touch my hair.  I work a 
	long time on my hair and you ruin it.  (Kicks dad in the shins.)

DAD:
	Ow!  You little snot!  I ought to beat you upside your head!  You 
	wouldnıt like that too much now would ya?!

JOEY:
	Shut up Dad!  Iım sick and tired of your shit!

DAD:
	(Smacks Joey upside the head hard.)  You little ass! Donıt you 
	talk that way around me!  

JOEY:
	Damn you.

DAD:
	(Hits Joey again, harder.)  What did I just say?

JOEY:
	I said, "Nay, I know not."

DAD:
	A pestilence on him for a mad Rogue!  A poured a flagon on Rhenish 
	on my head once.  This same skull, sir, was, sir, Yorickıs skull, the 
	Kingıs Jester.

JOEY:
	(Holding up skull.)  This?


DAD:
	Let me see.  (Takes the skull.)  Alas, poor Yorick!  I knew him, 
	Horaito; a fell of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy.  He hath 
	borne me on his back a thousand time.  And now how abhorred in my 
	imagination it is!  My gorge rises at it.  Here hung those lips that I 
	Have kissed I know not how oft.  Where be your gibes now, your 
	gambols, your songs, your flashes of merriment, that wer wont to set 
	the table on a roar?  Not one now, to mock your own grinning?  Quite 
	chop fallen?  Now get you to my ladyıs chamber and tell her, loet 
	her paint an inch thick, to this favour she must come.  Make her 
	laugh at that.  Prithee, Horiato, tell me one thing.

JOEY:
	Whatıs that my lord?

DAD:
	Dost thou think Alexander looked oı this fashion iı thı earth?

JOEY:
	Eıen so.

DAD:
	And smelt so?  Pah!  (Puts down the skull.)

JOEY:
	Eıen so, my lord.

DAD:
	To what base uses we may return, Horatio!  Why may not imagination 
	trace the noble dust of Alexander, till Œa find it stopping a bung-
	hole?

JOEY:
	It were to consider too curiously, to consider so.

DAD:
	No, faith, not a jot; but to follow him thither with modesty enough 
	and likelihood to lead it; as thus:  Alexander died,  Alexander was 
	buried, Alexander returneth to dust, the dust is earth, of earth we 
	make loam, and why of that loam whereto he was converted might they 
	not stop a beer-barrel?  Imperious Ceasar, dead and turnıd to clay, 
	Might stop a hole to keep the wind away.  O, that that eartth, which 
	kept the world in awe,  Should patch a wall tı expel the winterıs 
	flaw!  But soft, but soft, awhile!  Here comes the King.

JOEY:
	You moron there is no king here!  I told you to hire a king.  
	(Kicks dad in the shins again.)

DAD:
	(Slaps Joey.)  Well at least you learned your lines.



JOEY:
	Yes I did.  I did it for them.  (Points to the camera.)

DAD:
	As did I.

(Joey and Dad both take  bows to the crowd and there is applause as 
camera fades out.)
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 İ Copyright Generation Q, 1995. All rights reserved for someone better.