HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK, the Prequel

Received a message in the email box today that Disney is planning a prequel of The Lion King. Now let me say first off that “prequel” is one of my most hated words; it ranks with another made-up word, “threepeat,” as a rank abomination. The word I most hate in the English language, though—because of what it sounds like—is “catsup” when used for the red stuff that you pour over your hamburger. It noses out “hashtag” for first place on the ugliness scale.

But anyway, back to “prequel.” It seems that every movie and TV producer is trying to keep their franchise alive by trying it out, no matter how silly it may be in the context of their original show. Example: Endeavour as a prequel to Inspector Morse. How could anyone believe anything other than that Morse was born full-grown as a gloomy middle-aged cuss?

Ruminating on this, I thought I might undertake a new endeavor of my own as a creator of prequels for classic texts. 

Thus we have:

HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK, the Prequel

SCENE 1:

[The Queen’s room at Elsinore.]

The King: My prayers have been answered. The Queen has been safely delivered of a son. I shall name him Hamlet, after me. [Turns to Captain Shute.] I will celebrate with my troops. Go, bid the soldiers, Shute.

The Queen [aside]: I would it had been a girl. I’d have named her Ingrid.

SCENE 2:

[A room in the castle. Five years later. Hamlet playing with his toy soldiers. The Jester enters.]

Hamlet: Why do you look so gloomy? You are supposed to cheer people up.

Jester: I lost all my money last night at a game of cards with some of the court musicians.

Hamlet: Alas, poor Yorick.

SCENE 3:

[Two years further on. A hallway in the school. Hamlet walking aimlessly. Enter the Principal.]

Principal: What are you doing here, you young scoundrel? Why aren’t you in your class? Is it 2B or not 2B?

SCENE 4:  

[Ten years later. Ophelia’s room. Ophelia reading a letter.]

Ophelia: Doubt that the ocean is wet.

               Doubt that we never met.

               Doubt that the heaven is high.

               But never doubt that my love will ever die.

[Enter her father, Polonius.]

Polonius: What are you reading, Ophelia?

Ophelia: Oh, just a recipe for Danish butter cookies.

Polonius: Well, as long as it isn’t any of that so-called poetry nonsense of Hamlet’s. In my day we knew how to write—tragedy, comedy, history, pastoral, pastoral-comical, historical-pastoral, tragical-historical, tragical-comical-historical-pastoral, scene individable, or poem unlimited. Not that mushy June/moon stuff that passes for literature these days. . . . Oh, go into the kitchen and give cook that new cookie recipe. If it’s good, we might be able to put it in tins and sell it. It would be nice to get some new source of income.

SCENE 5:

[Four years later. A tavern in Wittenberg, frequented by university students.]

Students [drinking and singing]: 87 bottles of beer on the wall,

                                                     87 bottles of beer . . .

Hamlet: You know, there’s been one thing that has bothered me for the three years I’ve been here in Wittenberg: Which of you is Rosencrantz, and which of you is Guildenstern?

[Suddenly there enters a messenger, covered in mud from hard riding through the night.]

Messenger: Where is Prince Hamlet? I have come from the court in Elsinore.

Hamlet: I am Hamlet.

Messenger: Sire, I have some sad news for you—your father is dead.

Hamlet: Oh no! I can’t believe it. He was so alive when I last saw him.

Student 1: So sorry for you, Hamlet.

Student 2: He was a goodly man, in faith.

Student 3: He should have died hereafter.

Horatio: Wrong play, Scotty!

[The students all stand and raise their glasses high.]

All: The King is dead. Long live King Hamlet!

[Curtain.]