Shakespeare for Squirrels: A Novel (Fool #3)(70)

And she was on him, her arms around his neck, her legs around his hips, snogging his rough face and dry-humping him with great enthusiasm, while Bottom reciprocated by braying rhythmically and giving the fairy queen a galloping ride in a circle, to exit through the tapestries while the two of them made a rising caterwaul that ended in a screaming crescendo, followed by a short sigh. And Peaseblossom was pushed back onto the stage, her hair in her face, her flower garland fallen over one eye.

“Oh, well done,” she said. “A true lover, not like that needle-dicked Oberon.” She’d delivered the line without prompting and with no little venom. There was real hatred there, and she had captured Oberon’s attention. “I am off to Turtle Grotto. Ta!”

And she skipped to center stage, where she was met by Robin Starveling, who was now made up to look like Theseus, which did not stop him from announcing, “I am Duke Theseus of Athens.”

Drool and Snug in their Blacktooth and Burke togs were lurking at the edge of the stage as Peaseblossom fluffed her hair a bit and coyly tiptoed up to Starveling.

“Duke,” she said, by way of greeting.

“Queen,” said he, a bounce in his eyebrows.

And she was on him, approximating the same scene she’d played out with Bottom, only with less braying and more moaning, and they both disappeared behind the tapestries, did a bit of orgasmic screaming, then returned to the stage, massively out of breath. The audience loved it, cheered through the entire scene. Titania seemed bothered not at all, but patted the Indian boy’s hand, as if to assure him that everything was fine. But the duke was aghast and continued to glance sideways at Hippolyta, who seemed curious but not particularly concerned.

“I am troubled,” said Starveling. “I am to be married in three days and my wife loathes me.”

“Have you tried a love potion?” asked Peaseblossom.

“Is there such a thing?”

“There is, and for your favor now and in the future, I shall send you one. Put a drop of it in Hippolyta’s eye when you are the next thing she shall see and she will be yours. I shall send the Puck here tomorrow morning with one. Have your agents meet him at sunup.”

They both ran offstage. Drool and Snug whispered between themselves conspiratorially, then nodded and skulked off behind the tapestries.

Peter Quince retook the stage.

“Ladies and gents, be not afraid of all the shagging going on, for it is merely stage shagging and not actual shagging. Nor are the betrayals real betrayals. Or the murders real murders. All is staged for your delight and is completely suitable for ladies and children.

“Now, we are taken to the chambers in the castle of the beautiful Amazon queen, Hippolyta.”

Cobweb, wearing the remnants of Helena’s dress, trimmed down to her size, and the remnants of Helena’s hair, woven into her own short tresses so it hung in plaits like Hippolyta’s, scampered out from behind the tapestries and whispered in Quince’s ear, then retreated to center stage.

“For the purposes of drama, the audience should imagine the queen is wearing shoes,” Peter Quince said, then exited.

Cobweb sighed heavily, which was my cue. I ran from the floor stage left, leapt onto the stage, and did three cartwheels and a backflip to land in her arms, my back bent, faux Hippolyta holding me up. I had some doubts about my tumbling ability, having been starved and shipwrecked, but it appeared the fairies’ frolic was still sustaining me.

“Hello, Puck,” said Cobweb.

“Your Grace,” said I. “Fancy a bonk?”

“Perhaps. If you promise me a favor.”

“I am your servant, ma’am,” I said with a bow.

“I am to be married in three days, and before that time, I would like to meet with the goblin king. Can you arrange that?”

“A piece of piss, love. I’ll have him here before dawn.”

“Then lay on, Robin Goodfellow!” She was on me, and in the manner of the previously stated trysts, we raucously bounced through the tapestries, much to the delight of the audience. Once offstage she whispered, “You are a shit.”

“Moi?” said I, in perfect fucking French.

She kissed me quickly and made for her mark onstage, where Drool and Snug were waiting as the watchmen.

“What do you tossers want?” asked Cobweb.

“Ma’am, to report, ma’am, that we witnessed something that would be of great interest to you and would be worth a reward to us.”

“You shall have your reward. One of my silver armlets. What is your news?”

I peeked out to see Hippolyta rubbing her biceps where once she wore her silver armlets. Surely, this was not how it had happened, but it was close enough that the point was finally reaching her. She knew we knew. Theseus leaned forward on his chair and was paying close attention. The rest of the audience was watching a silly farce, but the royals were all watching an indictment.

“The duke is to receive a love potion from the fairies,” said Snug, reading slowly from a slip of parchment. “Which he intends to enchant you with upon your wedding day. We are to retrieve it from the Puck at Turtle Grotto at dawn tomorrow.”

“Well that shall not happen. You shall stop him reaching Theseus with the potion,” said Cobweb. “In any way you can.”

“The Puck is very clever. The duke had us out searching for him all day.”