Episode Six: Internet Therapy

NARRATOR
Previously on Three Rambunctious Writers…

AUSTEN
A mysterious global conspiracy brought me forward from the past, and forced me to live in twenty-first century Portland! Many other writers are also here!

VAN GOGH
There were others … before you. Warn your fellow writers. Our fate may soon become yours.

SHAKESPEARE
I’m speaking, like, net slang! That’s what I call the internet now—the “net”! Now leave, I need to flame this n00b!

AUSTEN
The computer’s effect on Mr. Shakespeare was, of course, disturbing.

NARRATOR
And now… this week!

Our three protagonists are sitting around in the kitchen and talking, like old times. Shakespeare has a laptop.

AUSTEN
It was excessively pleasant to have my work admired so. I do wonder why we have been so very strenuous about security. Perhaps we should reveal our secret identities to the general public—then we could share insight into our works and times.

WILDE
And be waited on constantly by groveling fans. It’s an attractive proposition.

AUSTEN
Indeed.

WILDE
But, according to Vincent van Gogh, we’d all be murdered horribly, which would rather lessen our enjoyment.

AUSTEN
Are you entirely convinced that the bulldozer driver was indeed Mr. van Gogh? It seems an unlikely idea. Were you perhaps in liquor at the time?

WILDE
Jane, I assure you, it was Vincent van Gogh! He was missing an ear, what more proof is necessary?

AUSTEN
You have failed to entirely vanquish my qualms!

SHAKESPEARE
Jane! Oscar! Cease thy quarrels and look on this wound’rous sight—we hath receivéd an email from Master Orwell.

AUSTEN
How is it, Mr. Shakespeare, that you still possess a computer? I have destroyed or removed six of them in the past month and yet you never seem to be without one.

SHAKESPEARE
Certes, Orwell hath suffused this email with all manner of encryption, but, forsooth, I hath nobly brought it forth intact.

WILDE
Will, Jane and I are concerned about your computer use. Your eyes are bloodshot, your skin is unnaturally pale, and I suspect that you are developing carpal tunnel syndrome.

SHAKESPEARE
The mystic email doth read thus:
(reads)
“You know who you are, so I won’t address you directly—it’s safer that way. I got your email about codename: star, which, I might add, was very badly encrypted and signed with your real names. I’ll look into the matter, but for now the most important thing is to maintain safety procedures. Do nothing to call attention to yourselves. I’ll be in touch. –Eric.”

AUSTEN
Mr. Shakespeare, perhaps you should refrain from speaking with your computer for a half hour or so. Come for a brisk walk in the garden with us.

SHAKESPEARE
O! I hath received another email!

AUSTEN
Do not read it! Let the computer alone.

WILDE
There is nothing more unappealing than a writer typing away at a computer screen when he could be making witty remarks in company. Put the laptop away, Will. Let’s go drop in unexpectedly on the Romantics again.

AUSTEN
I fear I have not yet recovered from the last time we did so. And please do not ignore your friends when we are speaking, Mr. Shakespeare, it is most improper.

SHAKESPEARE
I will give heed to your entreaties and, with much agony and torment in my soul, quit my beloved computer for the space of five minutes, once I hath read my newest email.

WILDE
That’s hardly—O! Jane, look at this email.

AUSTEN
(reads)
“Dear Mr. Shaxper,
Congratulations!!!! You may have technology addiction disorder! You’ve been randomly identified by our spyware as a person who may be in need of one-on-one counseling, group addiction therapy, or internet aversion therapy! And there’s no need to go to a licensed psychologist or counselor with these problems! Nope, our free unaccredited counseling service will solve all your problems!!!!! Also, we’ll enlarge your genitals.”

WILDE
Your correspondent seem inordinately fond of exclamation points. One might even say pathologically so.

AUSTEN
I do not find this person’s crude allusions and gross lack of propriety to be in any way acceptable! Mr. Shakespeare, I must implore you to delete this email immediately.

SHAKESPEARE
Methinks I will attend this counseling service.

AUSTEN
No! You cannot discuss your problems with someone so ungentlemanly as to mention genitals in a public email!

WILDE
Nor with someone who finds it entertaining to employ four exclamation points in a row! We’ve said you ought to spend less time on the computer, but not this way.

SHAKESPEARE
The untutored and artless enthusiasm of this noble emailer hath captured me, and, God’s follicle, I will attend. Wilt come with me?

WILDE
Well, we can’t let you go alone. Who knows what you’d get up to?

At the internet counseling service.

AUSTEN
I do not mean to be disparaging, but I must comment that this room does not seem altogether well kept. Are you certain that this service is reputable?

SHAKESPEARE
Doubt me not, fair Jane! My powers of judging character hath ne’er failed afore.

RECEPTIONIST
Hi!! Welcome to MoneyBucks, a free unaccredited counseling service! How can I help you?

SHAKESPEARE
Sweet lady, men call me Bill Shaxper, and I hath received thy email.

RECEPTIONIST
Welcome, Mr. Shaxper!! According to my files, you may suffer from technology addiction disorder!! We can help you!

SHAKESPEARE
Heavens be praised!

RECEPTIONIST
All we need is a three hundred dollar processing fee!

WILDE
Has the word “free” changed in definition since my time period?

RECEPTIONIST
Maybe! It’s just a processing fee.

SHAKESPEARE
And but a low price for the physic that will heal my grievous disease.

AUSTEN
Mr. Shakespeare, we cannot afford such luxuriant counseling. Perhaps you could discuss your problems with Mr. Wilde and I?

WILDE
He’ll only buy more computers otherwise, Jane. In any case, I want to see this counseling.

AUSTEN
Very well.

RECEPTIONIST
Great!! Mr. Shaxper, you can meet with our (unlicensed) internet addiction specialist in the next room! I’m not sure what to do with the two of you.

AUSTEN
We will go along with Mr. Shaxper, of course.

RECEPTIONIST
No, internet aversion therapy is best accomplished … alone. Perhaps you could join the group therapy that’s going on in the other room! For a mere two hundred dollars each in processing fees you could sit in on the meeting of—let me check…

AUSTEN
Madam, this is unnecessary. We do not intend—

WILDE
Quiet, Jane!

RECEPTIONIST
Yes today we have the Hedonists Anonymous and the Romance Novel Addicts! Meeting together!

WILDE
But those are hardly problems.

AUSTEN
Indeed! Novels are an innocent enjoyment and could hardly be described as an “addiction”!

RECEPTIONIST
Well, maybe not by stuffy counseling services with degrees and accreditation, but we’re open-minded! And for a small three hundred dollars each you can see for yourselves!

WILDE
We’ll pay.

AUSTEN
Mr. Wilde! Six hundred dollars to satisfy idle curiosity?

WILDE
Indeed.

Inside the internet therapy room.

RECEPTIONIST
Welcome to internet aversion therapy! I’m your unlicensed counselor!

SHAKESPEARE
In truth, thou resemblest much the receptionist who didst great me, but I can see that thou needs must be a different person. Thou wearest a hat and she did not.

RECEPTIONIST
Of course I’m not the same person as the receptionist! What a ridiculous idea! We have a staff of hundreds! There will be a small five hundred dollar compulsory donation to continue.

SHAKESPEARE
If gold will rid me of this fearsome demon Internet then so be it!

NARRATOR
Meanwhile…

In the support group room.

PERSON
Welcome to the thirteenth combined meeting of Hedonism Anonymous and Romance Novel Addicts. This is an unlicensed group therapy session. There will be a small hundred-dollar fee to continue. Thank you. Now please welcome our new members, Jean Boston and Ernest Jones!

AUSTEN
Good day.

WILDE
A pleasure to meet you.

PERSON
Please don’t use the word “pleasure”, Mr. Jones. It upsets the members of Hedonism Anonymous.

WILDE
As well it should! True aesthetic appreciation can only come through—

PERSON
Okay, thanks for your comments. I’ll begin today’s meeting. This morning at breakfast I felt the urge to put jam on my toast, but I flagellated myself for a half hour instead.

AUSTEN
That seems somewhat excessive, madam.

PERSON
Please don’t use the word “excessive!” It reminds us of our formerly excessive habits. If you continue to use upsetting words in this matter, you’ll both have to pay another thousand dollars.

NARRATOR
Meanwhile…

Back with Shakespeare.

RECEPTIONIST
Do you recognize this object?

SHAKESPEARE
I canst not deny I do. It be a computer.

RECEPTIONIST
Good! Give me a hundred dollars. Okay, now I want you to sit in front of the computer, and whenever you touch it or look at it I’ll shock you with this taser.

SHAKESPEARE
What use hath a taser? Is it like unto a sword?

RECEPTIONIST
You’ll find out. Don’t touch the computer!

SHAKESPEARE
Ow! Thou art most unkind!

NARRATOR
Meanwhile…

Back with the support group.

PERSON
And then I had a massive bonfire in my backyard and burned all my romance novels. I felt a sudden urge to get drunk and dance naked around the fire, but instead I did six hundred pushups.

WILDE
Your life is not worth living!

PERSON
That unsupportive remark will cost you another hundred dollars, Mr. Jones.

AUSTEN
I am most confused, madam, by your continual disparagement of romance novels. Surely reading is not harmful.

PERSON
Reading schlocky trash is harmful!

AUSTEN
In my own time, all novels were seen as silly pastimes of women, not worthy of serious thought. It seems more than slightly reminiscent of your beliefs about novels of romance.

PERSON
That’s a very helpful comment, Ms. Boston! Perhaps you’re right and all novels are as harmful as romances. Maybe I should burn all my books and spend all my time exercising.

AUSTEN
Would that truly cause you enjoyment?

PERSON
Don’t use the word “enjoyment!” How many times must I remind you? You’ll just have to give me five hundred dollars.

WILDE
No! We won’t give you any more money!

AUSTEN
As it happens, we do not possess any more money.

WILDE
Listen, group therapy members! I will relate to you a lengthy speech about aesthetics that will cause you to become hedonists again. Firstly—

PERSON
No more money?! I’m afraid I must ask the two of you to leave this group! You have been nothing but disruptive—

AUSTEN
I’m afraid you will see more disruptions, madam, before the day is out! I am affronted by the overly mercenary and monastic attitude of this group, and I must insist that you listen to Mr. Wilde’s long and boring speech about aesthetics, which I myself have heard on more than one occasion.

PERSON
I thought his name was Jones.

AUSTEN
That was what I said! Have you hearing problems as well? Perhaps you should visit an unaccredited doctor! Now pray be silent!

NARRATOR
Meanwhile…

Back in the internet therapy room.

RECEPTIONIST
Augh! Let me go!

SHAKESPEARE
No! Thou shalt not use thy magic staff again. How is it that thou knowest not even the basics of swordplay? The education in this time period is truly—

RECEPTIONIST
I won’t shock you again, just put down the dagger! Where’d you even get that?

SHAKESPEARE
I always carry a dagger on my person, so that if thieves like thee do attempt to o’erthrow me I might duel with them.

RECEPTIONIST
What kind of lunatic are you?

SHAKESPEARE
One who hath realized that he doth enjoy the internet more than electric shocks!

NARRATOR
Meanwhile…

Back in the group therapy room.

WILDE
And that is why you should leave this unaccredited therapy group immediately and go enjoy yourselves! I myself devoted my life to enjoying myself as much as possible at all times, which led to some problems at the end, but let’s not go into those right now. The point is I still had a better time than you shells of people!

PERSON
But how can I deal with my problems without attending expensive unaccredited therapy sessions?

WILDE
Well, perhaps you could write some poetry. Really dramatic poetry! With lots of adjectives! That will fix everything!

PERSON
How much does it cost?

Shakespeare suddenly arrives.

SHAKESPEARE
Jane! Oscar! We must leave immediately! I hath bested that lily-livered beggarly shrew of a therapist in a duel and now she hath called the police!

AUSTEN
We will hear no end of complaints from Mr. Orwell if the police come to know our secret identities.

SHAKESPEARE
We needs must exeunt!

WILDE
Good day, support group members. I advise you to go have a good dinner and get drunk.

PERSON
There is a hundred dollar exiting fee—

SHAKESPEARE
And thou shalt see none of it! Dearest friends, quickly! Down the fire escape!

The end.

Episode Five: The End of Mrs. Jones, part two

NARRATOR
Previously on “Three Rambunctious Writers”…

SHAKESPEARE
Some magic, the origin whereof I know not, didst force us, an ill-conceived triad of writers, to share an abode in early twenty-first century Portland, Oregon.

MRS JONES
I’ve read all Jane Austen’s books! I love them so much!

AUSTEN
They are no preparation for being abruptly told that one may be being manipulated by a global conspiracy!

SHAKESPEARE
Good Bob, wilt thou become a poet?

NARRATOR
And now… this week!

Back with Bob, Wilde and Shakespeare.

WILDE
He’s not answering. Perhaps we’ve overwhelmed him a little with our poetic genius.

SHAKESPEARE
Bob, we are but mortals, though our art be divine!

WILDE
Please don’t be intimidated by our thoroughly deserved wonderful reputations, Bob. I sense that you have a poetic countenance. Do you work out?

SHAKESPEARE
Bob, waste not thy talents on soulless machines.

WILDE
Perhaps we’ve bored him to death.

SHAKESPEARE
Mayhap he’s deaf. Ha! I hath made a pun!

WILDE
I heard it, Will. Thanks.

NARRATOR
Meanwhile…

Back with Austen and Mrs. Jones.

MRS JONES
Which is your favourite Jane Austen book?

AUSTEN
Oh, I could never choose. They are all so excessively well written.

MRS JONES
Come on, you must have a sentimental favourite.

AUSTEN
Well, I greatly enjoyed writing Emma. I mean, reading.

MRS JONES
Yes, that’s a good one. Better than Mansfield Park, anyway. Ugh!

AUSTEN
There is nothing wrong with Mansfield Park! Why is it that so many in this time period seem to find it so insipid? In my own time it was the favourite of many!

MRS JONES
Your own time?

AUSTEN
My own country. England. Everyone in England loves Mansfield Park.

MRS JONES
Oh, I thought you said “time.”

AUSTEN
Clearly, I said “country!” The two words are very similar! In any case, I was certainly born in this time period.

MRS JONES
You seem very concerned about time periods, Jean.

AUSTEN
Well, truly, who is not? Tell me more of your admiration for Miss Austen.

NARRATOR
Meanwhile…

Back in the yard.

SHAKESPEARE
Come, Bob, do but speak a word to us. I canst not tell why thou dost glare with such venom.

WILDE
Bob, if you don’t want to be a writer, you could try being a socialite. It’s almost the same thing!

SHAKESPEARE
Why removest thou thy helmet, wise Bob? Dost thou wish to better appreciate the fair Spring air?

WILDE
Great Scott!

SHAKESPEARE
God’s teeth!

WILDE
Bob has cut off his ear!

SHAKESPEARE
But not recently, as canst clearly be seen, so let none say that we hath led him to this with our prattle.

WILDE
I doubt he intends to sue us. Bob, what—

BOB
My name is not Bob.

SHAKESPEARE
Thy pardon, good sir—we didst see thy nametag and most basely assumed—

BOB
No, my name is not Bob!

Bob laughs manically and somewhat insanely.

WILDE
You must have some name, though, unless your parents were very lazy.

BOB
My name…

He laughs again.

BOB
My name … is Vincent Van Gogh!

NARRATOR
Meanwhile…

Back inside the house.

MRS JONES
And that was how reading Jane Austen led me to meet my husband, the late Mr. Jones.

AUSTEN
My dear Mrs. Jones, I am deeply touched by this story.

MRS JONES
Thanks. Jane Austen’s great, isn’t she? Though sometimes I do prefer a good modern romance written in real English. Don’t you?

AUSTEN
No! How can you say such a thing?

MRS JONES
Wow, you’re quite the purist. I only said sometimes.

AUSTEN
I apologize, Mrs. Jones, that was most improper of me.

MRS JONES
You know, you talk a bit like a Jane Austen character.

AUSTEN
Well, life imitates art.

She laughs nervously.

MRS JONES
I must say, Jean, I’m glad I’ve found a friend to share my love of Austen with. I’ve been so lonely since I moved to this block! Everyone hates me because of my bulldozers and my fund-raising, and my helpful personal advice!

AUSTEN
I am sure you will make a wider acquaintance in time.

MRS JONES
If only I could talk to Austen herself! I would follow her advice, no matter what it was. Well, at least I have you, Jean. You’re a good friend. The quality that I value most in a friend is honesty, and I can intuitively tell that you are completely honest.

AUSTEN
Yes, well…

An awkward pause.

AUSTEN
Mrs. Jones, there’s something I have to tell you.

NARRATOR
Meanwhile…

Back outside

WILDE
By George!

SHAKESPEARE
God’s nostril!

WILDE
The Vincent Van Gogh?

VAN GOGH
The same.

SHAKESPEARE
But… thou art dead! How canst this be? Unless—art thou a spirit, come forth from the foulest pits of hell to speak with us? Back, spirit! Back to whence thou didst come!

WILDE
No, hang on a moment, spirit, you can go back to the foulest pits of hell in a bit. Were you by any chance mysteriously brought forward from the past and told to share a house with other artists?

VAN GOGH
You guess correctly.

WILDE
Curious.

SHAKESPEARE
Begone, demon! Entreat us not with thine evil words! We heed not thy prophecies.

VAN GOGH
Not heeding prophecies never worked out well in Shakespeare.

SHAKESPEARE
And referencing mine own words endears thee not to me! Oh, God’s appendix, I just gave away my secret identity.

WILDE
Mr. Orwell will be so disappointed in you.

SHAKESPEARE
I care not for what Orwell the paranoid doth think, but mayhap we shouldst have speech with thee, Master Van Gogh. Art thou no spirit, but only a denizen of the past, like myself?

VAN GOGH
Yes, once I was like you. Once I didn’t know the truth. How I envy you!

WILDE
But how is it, Mr. Van Gogh, that you were brought from the past despite never having written anything with any merit at all? They say a picture is worth a thousand words, but I for one have never believed it, and—

VAN GOGH
There were others … before you.

He laughs insanely again.

WILDE
Beg pardon?

NARRATOR
Meanwhile…

Back in the house.

AUSTEN
Mrs. Jones, I am the Miss Jane Austen of whom you have spoken so highly.

MRS JONES
You mean to say, Jean Boston. I know you’ve mispronounced your own name in the past.

AUSTEN
No, this time my pronunciation was above reproach. I am Jane Austen. I wrote those books.

MRS JONES
What do you mean? That’s impossible!

AUSTEN
It might seem so, but not if one knows the truth! You see, a global conspiracy—

MRS JONES
I don’t hold with conspiracies. You’re not some kind of lunatic, are you?

AUSTEN
Of course not! So, as I was saying, a mysterious global conspiracy brought me forward from the past, and forced me to live in twenty-first century Portland! Many other writers are also here! My roommates—

MRS JONES
So you’re all crazy! I knew it! This is a block of lunatics!

NARRATOR
Meanwhile…

Outside.

VAN GOGH
How long have you been here, in the future?

WILDE
Well, discounting temporal paradoxes, around ten months or so.

VAN GOGH
I’ve been here for ten years.

SHAKESPEARE
But how canst this be?

VAN GOGH
Listen carefully. We don’t have much time. It was a terrible risk for me to contact you.

WILDE
Then why did you remain silent for so long, pretending to be a humble bulldozer driver?

VAN GOGH
Ten years ago, I was brought forward from the past and forced to live in twentieth-century Portland. I lived in an apartment complex with my fellow impressionists and we went bowling frequently with the modern artists. Life was good … for a while.

SHAKESPEARE
But then what didst change?

VAN GOGH
Something so terrible I cannot share it. They could be listening. Suffice it to say, I am now the only artist left alive. Except for ones who were born in this time period, I guess. Anyway, warn your fellow writers. Our fate may soon become yours.

Van Gogh laughs manically again.

WILDE
Wait! Don’t leave! Tell us what happened to the artists!

SHAKESPEARE
Master Van Gogh, return! Walk not into the fog as thou art doing. Who hath brought us here?

WILDE
He’s gone. I must say, that was a very strange encounter.

Jane Austen emerges from the back of the house.

AUSTEN
Good day, Mr. Shakespeare, Mr. Wilde. Shall we return home?

SHAKESPEARE
Jane! The strangest thing hath happened! We hath uncovered a clue—and, forsooth, a disturbing warning—about why we are in this time and place.

WILDE
We didn’t stop the bulldozers, though.

AUSTEN
That’s of no import. Mrs. Jones is moving out of town. I have driven her away with my bizarre, improper, and lunatic behaviour. She was kind, if misguided. Now, because of my negligence, we shall never see her or her bulldozers again.

WILDE
Good for you, Jane!

SHAKESPEARE
Indeed! Shall we celebrate?

The end.

Episode Four: The End of Mrs. Jones, part one

NARRATOR
Previously on “Three Rambunctious Writers”…

SHAKESPEARE
Some magic, the origin whereof I know not, didst force us, an ill-conceived triad of writers, to share an abode in early twenty-first century Portland, Oregon.

AUSTEN
Perhaps it is time we should investigate how we came here.

SHAKESPEARE
First there is more urgent business: we must crush Mistress Jones.

NARRATOR
And now … this week

The doorbell rings and Oscar Wilde answers it.

WILDE
Who would be so disgustingly organized as to call at this hour of the morning … Mrs. Jones! Have you come to helpfully inform us that the bulldozers are increasing their hours? Again?

JONES
What is the meaning of this?

She displays a piece of paper.

WILDE
My good woman, I feel your pain. The lot of the illiterate is truly a sad one. I will help you to decipher this paper.
(reads)
“Mrs Jones, your behaviour has been improper and discourteous. It is my sad duty to inform you that many of your neighbours have been greatly disturbed by your unseemly bulldozers. Pray cease your construction immediately or deeply unpleasant consequences will follow. Signed, a lady.”

MRS. JONES
This anonymous threat was left under my door this morning! Someone is out to kill me, and I suspect, Mr. Smith, that it is you!

WILDE
My dear Jones, not only is this letter signed “a lady,” it does not contain even one half of the scathing insults and brilliant wit that I would employ were I to write such a note. You cannot seriously entertain the idea of me as a suspect.

MRS. JONES
Then it was one of your vile housemates. You don’t care about community wellness and you always speak in old-time English!

WILDE
Jane—er, Jean Boston is far too sweet-tempered and retiring, and I cannot imagine Mr. Shaxper forgoing the pleasures of email for even one moment. No, I am convinced that the culprits are the Petersons down the street, the ones with the very loud dog. And now I must return to my important poetic work. Please do not call again at such an early hour!

MRS. JONES
It’s two in the afternoon.

WILDE
(blankly)
It’s Saturday.

MRS. JONES
Very well—but I will catch this saboteur!

NARRATOR
Later that afternoon.

Shakespeare enters the kitchen.

SHAKESPEARE
Ah, what fair and beautious weather. The loud bulldozers doth but slightly overwhelm the sweet melodies of birds. Good morrow, Jane, Oscar.

WILDE
Morning.

AUSTEN
I will not remark upon your slothfulness, but I must remind you that it is in fact afternoon! I arose at seven o’clock this morning!

WILDE
Really? In what manner were you employed?

AUSTEN
If you must know, Mr. Wilde, I was writing—a pursuit which you yourself seem to but rarely engage in.

WILDE
Writing … this?

He dramatically slams Mrs. Jones’s note down on the table.

SHAKESPEARE
Forsooth, sweet Jane, these words be in thy hand!

AUSTEN
Yes, I will admit to it! I wrote a threatening note to Mrs. Jones! These bulldozers are driving me to distraction. I have become short-tempered and irritable and I cannot pour a simple cup of tea without it rattling out of the saucer. You, gentlemen, seemed otherwise occupied with going to parties and acquiring comments on your blog, so someone had to take drastic measures. If a vaguely threatening note is what it takes, then so be it!

SHAKESPEARE
Certes, we needs must take action! My reason doth lead me to suspect that mayhap the downfall of Jones is too much for even a threatening note to accomplish. Satire, as you know, hath failed us most bitterly, but we can still use our prodigious poetical talents to aid us.

WILDE
We wait with baited breath to hear your brilliant plan, Will.

SHAKESPEARE
We will subvert our God-given talents to the service of propaganda and persuade the drivers of the bulldozers to mutiny!

AUSTEN
Could we not simply move house?

SHAKESPEARE
No. Thou hast a most important task—thou shalt distract Mrs. Jones with conversation while we make a stirring speech to the bulldozers.

WILDE
Might I join Jane in the distraction instead of standing in the swamp-like yard to deliver propaganda?

SHAKESPEARE
No. If my magnificent rhetoric doth fail, then thy paradoxical aphorisms will confuse the bulldozers so that they will be like unto zombies in the face of our persuasion.

AUSTEN
Might Mr. Wilde and I order you around for a change tomorrow, Mr. Shakespeare?

SHAKESPEARE
No. Now, let us away! There is still enough daylight for our glorious triumph to occur!

Outside Mrs. Jones’s house. Jane rings the doorbell, and the door opens.

MRS. JONES
You! What do you want?

AUSTEN
I simply came to call, Mrs. Jones! I assure you, I can come back another time.

MRS. JONES
You didn’t come to complain about the bulldozers? You came to be friendly? Really?

AUSTEN
It is only common politeness to call on one’s neighbours. Why do you find my presense so excessively suprising?

MRS. JONES
Oh, because everyone hates me! I have no friends! Please, Jean, come in!

AUSTEN
(guilty)
Certainly.

MRS. JONES
Can I get you something? Lemonade?

AUSTEN
Tea will be fine, thank you.

MRS JONES
Oh! I’m sorry! I don’t have any tea!

AUSTEN
Mrs. Jones! Calm yourself! This is no great problem; I will drink lemonade.

MRS JONES
Thank you!

AUSTEN
No, thank you.

MRS JONES
But what’s that I see out the window? It seems that the bulldozer drivers are leaving their machines and gathering in a circle.

Jane hastily closes the blinds.

AUSTEN
Please cease looking out the window! Have you not heard that sunlight causes cancer? Now, let us talk. Are you a great reader?

MRS. JONES
No, I don’t like to read much. I read magazines, you know, and the odd bestseller.

AUSTEN
Indeed.

MRS JONES
And Jane Austen, of course. I’ve read all her books. I love them so much. They are my consolation in times of great stress.

AUSTEN
Indeed!

MRS JONES
If I could only meet her! I’m sure she could help me so much with my emotional problems. Her books always end with such happy marriages; I’m sure her own romantic and emotional life must have been absolutely wonderful!

AUSTEN
(Bitter)
One would think so, wouldn’t one?

MRS JONES
My favourite is Pride and Prejudice. It’s so romantic!

AUSTEN
Thank you.

MRS JONES
Beg pardon?

AUSTEN
I said “It is my belief that, while of course amazingly well-written, the novels of Jane Austen are no adequate guide to life in the twenty-first century!”

MRS JONES
It sounded shorter than that

AUSTEN
Aye, they are no preparation for being suddenly thrust forward through time without being warned, for the sudden knowledge that everyone one knew is dead, for being forced to live in a house with people who, despite their literary talents, are lunatics and either unattractive or unsuited for matrimony! They are no preparation for being abruptly told that one may be being manipulated by a global conspiracy! They are no preparation for even the frightening existence of electrical chamber pots!

MRS JONES
Well, I wouldn’t really expect all that of a light romance.

NARRATOR
Meanwhile…

The backyard. Shakespeare and Wilde are talking to Bob the bulldozer driver.

SHAKESPEARE
Good Bob, surely thou hast thought that mayhap thou art not suited to the harsh labour of bulldozer driving. Wouldst not rather cease thy work and rebel against the meddling Jones?

WILDE
I find relaxation far too much work by itself to even consider driving a bulldozer as well. Do you truly enjoy driving this ungainly machine, or do you only do it for some silly reason like money?

SHAKESPEARE
But, by Jove, there are other career options available! Thou might do much for thy bread other than drive a bulldozer.

WILDE
For example, Will and I are both in the highly lucrative and well-paying career of writing! You, too, can make millions at writing! And there are marvelous perks.

SHAKESPEARE
Oh, aye, become a poet! Mayhap it doth not pay as well as thou doth misleadingly suggest, Oscar, but what matters gold when thou hast a higher calling! I myself am widely considered to be the greatest writer in the history of the English language, and I consider that worth more than any filthy lucre made by bulldozing.

WILDE
Yes, a good review is more beautiful than the loveliest flower on Earth. Not, of course, that a true artist cares about the vile opinions of critics.

SHAKESPEARE
Forsooth, I care nothing of what people say of my work, for I doth know its true poetic brilliance, and the world hath enough groundlings to buy the tickets.

WILDE
That, Bob, is another secret of being a writer. The more people hate you, the more tickets get sold to your plays.

SHAKESPEARE
As long as thou art entertaining, Sweet Bob! Thou canst not forget that. All the world doth love a good pun—“nothing” doth be “better”, if you get my meaning. Hm?

WILDE
Will, the bulldozer driver does not understand Elizabethan innuendo. We’ve told you a dozen times—

SHAKESPEARE
But see, he hath laughed! Already, Master Bob, thou art intimidated by my reputation enough to laugh when thou understandeth not my meaning. But I will give away no more secrets of the profession before I doth hear a word of assent from Bob. Good Bob, wilt thou become a poet?

NARRATOR
And now… a cliffhanger! Will Jane reveal her secret identity to Mrs. Jones? Will the bulldozers finally go away? Will Bob become a poet? Tune in next week to find out!

Episode Three: The Search for a Satirist

NARRATOR
Previously on Three Rambunctious Writers…

SHAKESPEARE
Some magic, the origin whereof I know not, didst force us, an ill-conceived triad of writers, to share an abode in early twenty-first century Portland, Oregon.

MRS. JONES
Welcome to the neighborhood! We’re having some construction done on my house. It’s not much—just some bulldozers and a few wrecking balls—all day long.

SHAKESPEARE
. Clearly, we must fine some satirist who, like us, hath been brought forward through time, and hire him to aid in our fight with the neighbors!

NARRATOR
And now … this week!

Once more, Oscar Wilde, William Shakespeare, and Jane Austen are sitting in their kitchen and chatting.

SHAKESPEARE
Oh cruel fates! Truly this is the lot of man, to be forever denied compassion and understanding by his own literary kindred! Wherefore hath none of the satirists answered my emails? Care they not for our cruel oppression by the noxious noise of the vicious shrew Mrs. Jones?

AUSTEN
Try to be cheerful, Mr. Shakespeare. The noise is not excessively terrible. Perhaps we can simply avoid any unpleasantness by leaving the house often.

WILDE
Our purpose, you seem to forget, is not comfort but revenge—a far more interesting prospect.

SHAKESPEARE
Yet it will all come to naught! What is the meaning of this hateful silence?

AUSTEN
Were you not still waiting to hear from Mr. Swift, sir? He seems, despite some vulgarity in his writings, to be gentleman enough to respond to your letter.

SHAKESPEARE
No, Jonathan Swift hath responded with a most grievous flame, declaring that he will have no association with a formerly great writer now reduced to insignificant internet postings. He is a toad-faced dunce and understandeth not the brilliant literary insights that I doth proclaim on my blog.

AUSTEN
Your blog, Mr. Shakespeare? I do believe we have discussed your internet problems before. Would you not prefer to spend your leisure time in reading? Perhaps you could read my books, which you have still not even opened, despite my repeated attendance at inferior productions of Hamlet whenever you desire my absence from the house!

SHAKESPEARE
Twice is hardly “repeated”!

WILDE
I hate to interrupt such a fascinating reasoned discussion, but I must say, my dear Will, that I am unsurprised that we’ve made an enemy out of Swift. You did invite him to come by for a supper of roasted babies.

SHAKESPEARE
How didst thou find the details of my private correspondence? Is this some witchery?

WILDE
Your email password is your name, but I really must continue to inquire about your strange invitation to Mr. Swift. It seems a odd sort of hospitality, though I suppose it is better than serving some vegetable dish.

SHAKESPEARE
I read a work of his in which he mentioned these cannibalistic tastes. I thought it seemed passing strange, but mayhap times and tastes hath changed since the fair sixteen hundreds.

WILDE
(sarcastically)
I do believe the article in question was sarcastic, Will, although these things are always difficult to determine.

SHAKESPEARE
Then mayhap I too was sarcastic! Thou comprehendest not my literary genius.

WILDE
Please, let us not further discuss such vile things as sarcasm with a lady present. It is most impolite.

AUSTEN
(sarcastically)
Indeed.

The doorbell rings

AUSTEN
I will not answer the door once more—one of you may greet our guest for once.

WILDE
Very well.

He opens the door. George Orwell stands outside!

WILDE
Good day sir, and welcome, though I must wonder why you are wearing such a large trenchcoat on such a warm day. Your mirrored sunglasses show that you are aware of the weather, so one must wonder at—

AUSTEN
Mr. Wilde, the gentleman knows what he is wearing; is it truly necessary to describe his own appearance to him?

WILDE
I’ve told you of the need for exposition before, my dear Jane. No novelist could ever understand—

ORWELL
Let me in, quickly! Before someone sees that I’m here! They’re everywhere! They’re always watching! Their cameras are trained on me now, because they’re following me, you see. In a few minutes the system will log my presence and they’ll send assassins to kill me!

WILDE
Then do come in, sir. Would you like some tea?

Orwell comes in and shuts the door.

ORWELL
No, thank you. I never eat or drink any food I haven’t prepared from scratch and repeatedly disinfected.

AUSTEN
Good day, sir. I am Jane … Smith, and these are my housemates Bill and Ernest, all of us born in the twenty-first century.

ORWELL
Pleasure. I’m George Orwell.

SHAKESPEARE
Oh, thou art one of us! In truth, we are—

ORWELL
No! Don’t reveal your true identities! I already know who you are from your email, there’s no need to say it out loud where it could be picked up by hidden microphones.

AUSTEN
Won’t you sit down, Mr. Orwell?

ORWELL
Don’t call me that. Call me Eric.

AUSTEN
(weirded out by Orwell)
Indeed. Eric.

SHAKESPEARE
(aside to Wilde)
Oscar, thinkest that this Orwell is mad?

WILDE
(aside to Shakespeare)
I haven’t the slightest idea, but he is certainly entertaining.

ORWELL
Perhaps you might consider that I have reasons to be so paranoid! Haven’t you ever thought that it’s extremely strange that we were brought forward through time so suddenly? Who do you think—

SHAKESPEARE
How didst thou hear that conversation? We didst discuss entirely within an aside!

ORWELL
But you talked at a normal conversational volume.

AUSTEN
I am never certain why it is the two of you seem to believe that you cannot be heard when you turn slightly away from the conversation.

SHAKESPEARE
Because it is an aside! Truly, novelists understand little of dialogue.

WILDE
Indeed. How you manage to properly convey your insults is beyond me.

ORWELL
Enough! You must put aside these interpersonal squabbles and listen to my message of freedom!

AUSTEN
We are listening, Mr. Orwell.

ORWELL
Eric! And please, don’t speak so close to the cabinet, it could easily hold a microphone.

WILDE
I could have sworn it held only teabags, but I suppose the difference is immaterial.

SHAKESPEARE
Sweet Eric, please tell us of your errand. Hath you come to aid us with your satire in the valiant struggle against the vicious Jones?

ORWELL
No, I don’t give a damn about this Jones. After I got your email, I realized that there were more writers in the area, clearly brought from the past by the same mysterious force as brought me, and that you were not following proper encryption procedures!

SHAKESPEARE
You knew not of the existence of the other writers? You must have been filled with loneliness like unto an empty megabyte of storage.

AUSTEN
Yes, seemingly every writer of importance throughout history is now living in Portland.

WILDE
We have some terribly exciting parties. I still remember when we went to a garden party at the home of the epic poets and the only refreshments were a disgusting yet alcoholic punch and biscuits.

SHAKESPEARE
Aye, and Virgil threw the punch bowl at Dante, screaming “I’m sick of hearing about your stupid vernacular fanfic!”

AUSTEN
And then they had a fight and the Romantics all starting shooting their pistols into the air for no reason, and it progressed into a huge drunken brawl!

SHAKESPEARE
And Oscar made out with Plato!

WILDE
Good times.

ORWELL
Have you made no effort to hide your secret identities? Unencrypted emails? Parties? Gunfights!? Don’t you realize that whatever secret government agency brought us forward through time could be spying on us at any minute? I came to warn you—and I suppose you must pass on my warnings to these other writers—that secrecy is of utmost importance!

SHAKESPEARE
Will you not then come to our aid in the matter of Mrs. Jones?

ORWELL
Who do you think I am? Some character-assassin-for-hire? I will use my satire only to demonstrate that all governments will inevitably lead to a cruel and stifling police state with no hope of change or freedom.

WILDE
I must say, that seems a slightly bleak view.

ORWELL
And now I must leave, before they know I’ve been here. Remember: follow safety procedures. Use false names. Never discuss anything openly. Good day!

Exit Orwell.

AUSTEN
I must confess myself to be perturbed by Mr. Orwell’s remarks. Perhaps it is time we should investigate how we came here.

SHAKESPEARE
Thou art correct, fair Jane, but first there is more urgent business: we must crush Mistress Jones.

The end.

Next week: The end of Mrs. Jones!

Episode Two: Neighbours

NARRATOR
Previously on “Three Rambunctious Writers” …

SHAKESPEARE
Some magic, the origin whereof I know not, didst cruelly rip us from our appointed place in time and disrupt the harmony of the celestial spheres by forcing us, an ill-conceived triad of writers from diff’rent islands in the wide ocean of history, to share an abode in early twenty-first century Portland, Oregon.

MESSENGER
Whatev. I got a delivery for a Mr. Shaxper from Happy Computer Co.

SHAKESPEARE
OMG, WTF, like, leave me alone!

AUSTEN
I will no longer have this infernal contraption in my house!

NARRATOR
And now: this week!


Oscar Wilde, Jane Austen, and William Shakespeare are in their kitchen drinking tea and chatting. Again. They do this a lot.

AUSTEN
I must admit, I was gratified to learn so much about twenty-first century technology last week, although the computer’s effect on Mr. Shakespeare was, of course, disturbing.

WILDE
I would be most gratified, Jane, if you would decline from mentioning the computer in front of Will. One can only extent so much sympathy before feeling an urge to attack someone.

SHAKESPEARE
Oh, sweet computer, how I miss thy beauteous silicone! Why wert thou torn from me, a tearing like unto the rending of flesh? Let me but see thy screen once more and I will forgo all pleasure in life!

WILDE
Take that back, if you please! What did pleasure ever do to you?

AUSTEN
Shall we not argue today, sirs? Just once?

The doorbell rings.

SHAKESPEARE
Ah, bright siren bell, always dost thou sound at the best time in a conversation.

WILDE
I can see how you could find inanimate objects to be more pleasant conversation than we are, Will, but you need not be so blatant about it.

SHAKESPEARE
Well, forgive me if I use some apostrophe now and then! I enjoy poetic techniques! I would most likely know more if my internet research had not been curtailed.

WILDE
You were in a flame war—

AUSTEN
(Answering the door)
Good day, madam, and welcome. I am, apparently, the doorman.

MRS. JONES
Hi there! I’m Mrs. Jones from next door. Welcome to the neighborhood!

AUSTEN
Thank you! Please come in. (Mrs. Jones comes inside) I am Miss Jane Austen, and these are my housemates—

MRS. JONES
Jane Austen? Really? No relation to that writer—

AUSTEN
No, of course not! No relation at all, I’ve barely heard of—of her. In fact, my name’s not even Jane Austen. I misspoke, it’s, er, Jean Boston. How could we be related? We were born in entirely different time periods.

MRS. JONES
But—that doesn’t make any—

AUSTEN
These are my housemates, who were born in the twenty-first century.

WILDE
Pleased to meet you.

SHAKESPEARE
An honour, fair lady.

MRS. JONES
Yes, well, I came by to say that I heard a loud crash in the vicinity of your yard a few days ago, so I thought I’d tell you that it was really rather disruptive. I mean, I’m sure you didn’t purposefully cause the entire block to experience feelings of fear and anxiety as a result of your carelessness, so I thought I’d just tell you about it.

SHAKESPEARE
Aye, a crash, but wherefore be-ith the crabs in the apple of shh, if you get my meaning, nuncle.

MRS. JONES
What?

WILDE
Do you mean to say that you’re not well-versed in obscure Elizabethan puns? I am shocked!

MRS. JONES
Elizabethan? Is that some sort of cult?

SHAKESPEARE
The Queen is not a cult! Thou witless dunce that doth—

AUSTEN
There is no call for vulgarity! Mrs. Jones, I apologize for the noise, and I assure you it will not happen again—the circumstances were not such as could easily be repeated.

WILDE
Unless we get another computer.

SHAKESPEARE
Precious computer! Thou art gone! Gone, forever!

AUSTEN
Indeed. Will you have some tea, Mrs. Jones, or will you be on your way?

MRS. JONES
I’ve got things to do, thanks, but while I’m here, I should mention that we’re having some construction done on my house. It’s not much—just some bulldozers and a few wrecking balls—we’re rebuilding to increase the property value. It’ll only make noise from three AM to ten in the evening, you’ll barely notice it. Well, nice meeting you!

SHAKESPEARE
Have a good one!

Exit Mrs. Jones

AUSTEN
I am glad to form a closer acquaintance with our neighbours, but it does seem that her repairs will be rather more of a problem than the one crash that occurred when I accidentally pushed the computer out the window.

WILDE
Indeed. “Accidentally.”

SHAKESPEARE
This construction, by the sound of it, will assault our ears with a sound like unto the screaming of the damned in hell! I like not this woman—doth she not realize to whom she speaks? I am widely considered—

WILDE
--to be the greatest writer in the English language. We know. You may have mentioned it a few times, here and there.

AUSTEN
The question remains of what we shall do about the forthcoming construction. I fear that the noises will intrude most obnoxiously when I am writing.

WILDE
You rarely write in any case, Jane, since we arrived here.

AUSTEN
Well, it would if I did! You write just as rarely.

SHAKESPEARE
My dear friends, might we but focus? I would fain defeat the evil and vainglorious Mrs. Jones.

AUSTEN
How can we solve the problem? To complain might be most impolite.

WILDE
Let’s put our heads to it. How do we solve most of our problems?

SHAKESPEARE
Duels! Or big brawling fights which doth amount to the same thing.

AUSTEN
With propriety and possibly with discreet amusement.

WILDE
Or by ignoring all one’s problems. I must say, this hardly seems to help.

SHAKESPEARE
Wait—what about satire?

AUSTEN
Of course!

WILDE
That’s it!

SHAKESPEARE
Satire!

WILDE
Satire will solve all our problems!

AUSTEN
Indeed!

The next day

SHAKESPEARE
So we meet once more after a long and sleepless night preparing our Eternal Poetic Works of Literary Greatness.

Jane and Oscar have secretly not actually prepared anything.

AUSTEN
Indeed.

WILDE
Right.

SHAKESPEARE
Although I hath, in the past, mayhap suggested that your works of non-cosmic comedy of manners may be less than Great Literature, I realize now that we must work together to overcome the vile shrew Mrs. Jones with brilliant works of satire!

AUSTEN
Your friendship is most gratifying, Mr. Shakespeare. Shall we hear your satire?

WILDE
Yes, I’m curious to see this great literary work that can prepared in one night while secretly sneaking out the window to internet cafés at three in the morning.

SHAKESPEARE
Thou wert not supposed to find out about that! I mean to say, I have freed myself from the possession of the demon Internet. In any case, here is my satire:
Mrs. J---- would fain declare
Herself the mistress of the block
But her repairs make awful sounds
And doth disturb the peace, the vicious shrew!

AUSTEN
Pray continue, sir.

SHAKESPEARE
That’s all there is.

WILDE
You’ve said brevity is the soul of wit, Will, but I didn’t realize you meant it quite so literally. Indeed, in this case—

SHAKESPEARE
I confess, I am undone by this monstrous task! I canst not satirize without a full cast of players, a stage, two hours of performance, a plot that someone else hath made up, a tiring room—

AUSTEN
Do not castigate yourself, Mr. Shakespeare. I am sure that Mr. Wilde and I have done no better. None of us are particularly suited to biting satire of the neighbours.

WILDE
I could do it if she were interesting, but the good Mrs. Jones is far too dull to waste one’s talents on.

AUSTEN
Then, gentlemen, there is only one solution.

SHAKESPEARE
Fair Jane, once more thou givest voice to mine own thoughts. Clearly, we must fine some satirist who, like us, hath been brought forward through time, and hire him to aid in our fight with the neighbours!

WILDE
This idea is rife with potential problems—let’s do it immediately!

AUSTEN
I was going to suggest moving house, but I must admit this idea is intriguing.

SHAKESPEARE
Then our quest hath begun!


Next week: The search for a satirist!

Episode One: Acronyms

Oscar Wilde, William Shakespeare, and Jane Austen sit in their kitchen chatting and drinking tea.

AUSTEN
Politely complaining
This day has certainly been most uneventful.

SHAKESPEARE
Aye, fair Jane, thou speakest true. Since that strange and wond’rous day when some magic, the origin whereof I know not, didst cruelly rip us from our appointed place in time and disprut the harmony of the celestial spheres by forcing us, an ill-conceived triad of writers from diff’rent islands in the wide ocean of history, to share an abode in early twenty-first century Portland, Oregon, the days have truly passed without event.

AUSTEN
I do believe I remember how we came here, Mr. Shakespeare, but thank you for the clarification.

SHAKESPEARE
It was—

WILDE
And your metaphors are growing progressively more bizarre, my dear Will. If you weren’t so very well-known, one might almost suspect you of trading on your reputation.

AUSTEN
Indeed.

SHAKESPEARE
It was an aside! An aside! And my metaphors doth function at a lofty level invisible to overly critical roommates who write nothing but piddling comedies of manners!

AUSTEN
Did you not write one or two of those yourself?

SHAKESPEARE
Canst understand that—

The doorbell rings.

WILDE
Company! Could that just possibly be someone to talk to other than the two of you? Nothing is better than company, except for solitude.

SHAKESPEARE
Avowedly, that epigram had as little sense as did my metaphor. Thou art slipping, Oscar, as sure as myself. This century is no home for poets.

WILDE
It’s hard to come up with these things at a moment’s notice, you know.

Austen opens the door.

AUSTEN
Good day to you madam, and welcome to our home—a place, it seems, populated by those who see no harm in allowing a lady to get the door.

MESSENGER
Whatev. I got a delivery for a Mr. Shaxper from Happy Computer Co.

SHAKESPEARE
That’s me! It’s here! Yay!

WILDE
That was a truly modern exclamation, Will.

SHAKESPEARE
Slowly as the snail’s footsteps, I begin to understand the strange speech of this marvellous place. Where do I sign?

MESSENGER
Right here, sir.

Shakespeare enthusiastically signs the package slip.

AUSTEN
Quietly, to Wilde
A computer? Have we even enough income for such a luxury?

WILDE
Quietly, to Austen
Oh, income. No one of gravity worries about such things.

AUSTEN
And exactly what does he hope to accomplish with this machine? Surely it will not improve our bored and isolated condition.

SHAKESPEARE
To the messenger
Does it have the internet?

MESSENGER
Sure. We came by and installed the wireless last week, remember?

WILDE
To Shakespeare
So that was the real reason you told us to go see Hamlet without you!

AUSTEN
You were not modest and embarrassed, as you claimed!

WILDE
Devious!

MESSENGER
Happy Computer Co. is happy to provide prompt and cheerful service. Please tell us of your concerns. You’re all set up now, call us if you have problems, the warranty expires in two days.
Pause.
Are you, like, famous or something?

SHAKESPEARE
No! Of course not! Though my art is justly admired, I am naught but a humble merchant, who doth live in this perfectly ordinary dwelling, in this, the year of Our Lord, two thousand and six!

MESSENGER
Right. Just something about your haircut brought back memories of—
She shudders.
--High school English class. Anyway, have a good one.

Exit the Messenger

SHAKESPEARE
I needs must make the acquaintance of this mechanical servant, which doth contain marvels like unto those found in the depths of the vasty sea.

AUSTEN
I’m afraid I do not understand your simile, Mr. Shakespeare.

SHAKESPEARE
Whatev. I go forth to converse with my new servant. Have a good one!

Exit Shakespeare

AUSTEN
Mr. Shakespeare’s style of speech has certainly changed much in the past few minutes.

WILDE
Perhaps it’s simply passed our level of comprehension.

AUSTEN
Indeed. So, shall we pass yet another day by sitting within the house, too afraid of the twenty-first century to venture outside?

WILDE
No, I think that would be altogether too exciting. As you know, many other writers from different time periods have also been transported to early twenty-first century Portland for no apparent reason. Perhaps we should go visit with them and stun them with our brilliant and witty insights.

AUSTEN
I do know that, Mr. Wilde. I fail to understand why the two of you are so very insistent on repeating perfectly obvious facts.

WILDE
There are some things, dear Jane, that a novelist can never understand as a playwright can, and one of them is the need for exposition.

AUSTEN
I don’t—

WILDE
No, don’t argue, we’ll only spend the day sitting inside and fighting again. We must leave the house before I become entirely too social.

AUSTEN
Sir, that made almost no sense at all.

WILDE
My Poetic Genius is not nurtured by lack of excitement. Really, we have to go.

AUSTEN
All right, but I will not use public transit again. It was not at all “Just like riding a horse”


The next day. Jane Austen and Oscar Wilde sit in the kitchen, perhaps drinking from rattly cups again. Is “rattly” a word? It should be.

AUSTEN
I must admit, it was gratifying to converse with great writers from throughout time. I feel most humbled by the experience.

WILDE
Yes, were you all right after we got separated at that wild party the Romantics were having?

AUSTEN
I was quite well, thank you. The Romantics seemed men of great poetical discernment.

WILDE
I noticed you flirting with Byron.

AUSTEN
I noticed you flirting with Byron.

WILDE
I think everyone there was flirting with Byron.

AUSTEN
He is certainly possessed of considerable personal charm.

WILDE
I hope you got away from Fielding all right.

AUSTEN
Yes, thank you. I went afterwards to a … well, to a bar. With the Brontës. I told them of my personal problems and they advised me to go to an open moor and scream my anger and sorrow to the rising moon and to write poetry when I was finished. They assured it me it would be a most gratifying experience, but I was forced to decline.

WILDE
And which personal problems were these, pray tell?

AUSTEN
And what happened to you, Mr. Wilde? You did not arrive home until this morning.

WILDE
Oh, I met Kit Marlowe, Will’s friend. A terribly exciting person, though perhaps overly fond of conspiracy theories. He told me at length about how Queen Elizabeth had implanted a microchip in his brain, though he declined to explain what a microchip is. I can only suppose it is some sort of strangely interesting train of thought.

AUSTEN
I am reminded—where is Mr. Shakespeare this morning?

WILDE
It is unlike him to go un-noticed for so long.

AUSTEN
He’s not in the living room. Mr. Shakespeare! We would speak with you!

Two sets of footsteps throughout the following.

WILDE
William! Where are you?

AUSTEN
Mr. Shakespeare, you are causing us some concern!

WILDE
He’s not in any of the bedrooms.

AUSTEN
Nor the pantry. Mr. Shakespeare!

WILDE
Perhaps he was kidnapped.

AUSTEN
Nonsense. Have you searched the attic?

WILDE
I was not aware that we possessed an attic.

AUSTEN
We have a small crawl space with a leaky roof and inadequate structural support. One would think that whatever strange magic transported us here could provide us with a better habitation.

They ascend to the attic.

WILDE
By George!

AUSTEN
Oh, d---n

WILDE
Did you actually pronounce those dashes?

AUSTEN
Never mind that! Look at poor Mr. Shakespeare—he is a decayed shadow of his former self! Have you been playing with this computer for the past twenty hours, sir? And why are you leaning through the crack in the roof like that?

SHAKESPEARE
OMG, WTF, like, leave me alone! This is the only place where I can get reception that doesn’t suck!

WILDE
This reminds me so much of The Picture of—

AUSTEN
Mr. Wilde, please! What is House Rule Number One?

WILDE
No quoting yourself. But I—

SHAKESPEARE
Go away! Gtg! I’m, like, in a flamewar here! U r distracting me! FTJSKDRTUV!

AUSTEN
If that is an acronym, sir, it might serve you better to simply speak English.

SHAKESPEARE
I’m speaking, like, net slang! That’s what I call the internet now—the “net”! Now leave, I need to flame this n00b!

WILDE
To see language mangled so by William Shakespeare—the irony is delicious.

AUSTEN
The irony is sickening. I will no longer have this infernal contraption in my house!

SHAKESPEARE
Thou canst not take my computer!

WILDE
Pull yourself together, Will! Do you want posterity to remember you as a Great Poet or as a participant in internet flame wars?

SHAKESPEARE
This is posterity, thou cream-faced loon!

Austen seizes the computer and defenestrates it.

WILDE
Oh, look. It seems that Jane has accidentally thrown the computer out the window.

SHAKESPEARE
I shouldst be angry, but … Thinketh that perhaps some demon within the computer hath enchanted me? I felt the strangest compulsions.

AUSTEN
Indeed.

SHAKESPEARE
Well, all’s well that ends well.

WILDE
House rule number one!

The end.