The Likely Reason Zombie Shakespeare Hunts Me To This Day In high school, myself and several of my friends had (for lack of a better term) somewhat creative leanings. They were, in retrospect, somewhat unfortunate as they had a tendency to manifest in public forums such as in front of our classmates. One day, our lit. teacher decided that it would be fun to bust everybody into groups and have them do scenes from Shakespeare. You know, bring it all closer to home. We, of course, picked a fight scene, but had a vision. A new Shakespeare for a new age! We had a weekend to prepare, and prepare we did. Come Monday morning the world would know our artistic genius. The scene began with the blah, blah, blahing. Our passionate recitation only whetting the appetite for the battle that would commence. A battle filtered through the pop culture phenomenon of professional wrestling. We had it all. The spectacle of the heroic battle against the sleeper hold. The dreaded boston crab (which, by the way, actually hurts). It was all there. To cap things off right we ended with something that is only outdone by the "pastry affair" as the greatest moment of our collective stupidity. A flying elbow off a desk. What we did to "The Song of Roland" shall go with us to our graves.
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