we must be patient

I recall one particularly stormy night, Horatio and I had planned a supernatural investigation in the castle.

T’was perhaps past midnight, a few days after my ghostly father’s first appearance, when we embarked on our quest. Horatio was armed with the Christian scripture and cross and I with my signature wit (and dagger, as I am no fool and I will not hesitate to stab a man.) Before we descended into Elsinore’s cellar, I told Marcellus to keep watch and call us should he see any ghosts. He mumbled something about not getting paid enough.

For two hours, Horatio and I lurked in the old dungeons. My wine-head Uncle had since repurposed them to store his liquor.

“Spirits, come kill me!” I shouted, speaking to the air. Nothing. We were about to conclude our failed attempt when Horatio pointed into the darkness.

“My Lord, look! Something is moving about!” And at that moment a hellish, unseen creature scuttled past us and up the stairs. We heard a blood-curdling cry. Horatio and I arrived at the source to find a sobbing Marcellus drenched in sticky fluid. “Two more years ‘til retirement...” he said, rocking in a fetal position.

“Quickly Horatio, we must not let it escape!” I cried.

We chased the monster ‘round the castle until it was cornered under a dining hall table. With vigor, I pulled back the cloth to find - old Polonius, who hissed at us. His mouth was covered with wine stains. The three of us stood there, not knowing what to say.

“I prithee, do not tell the King of this,” Polonius winced. I looked at Horatio. Horatio looked at me.

“Well...how much wine is left?”

Hamlet: I’m busy

Ophelia: