Fun, Fickle Fiction (for Free!) Fact, Opinion, Essay, & Review Spectacular Features, Calendrical Happenings, Media Gadflies Poetry & Lyric Advice, How To, & Self-Help Listicles Semi-Frequent Columns Correspondence (Letters To and Letters From) Interviews The Book Club Letter from the Editors Disquieting Modern Trends Birthday Cards to Celebrities New & Noteworthy The Y.P.aRt Gallery Et Cetera, Et Cetera, Et Cetera The Y.P.aRchives Submit

 Atøm | Spanish
supportbar.jpg Bea!   Creative Commons License
This journal is licensed under a Creative Commons License and powered by Movable Typo 4.01.
Y.P.R. & Co.

The Journal of Literary Satire | Hastily Written & Slopilly Edited
Tuesday, December 4, 2007

MTV Books Presents: Romeo & Juliet

VeronaRomeo Montague was the kind of boy other boys liked. And girls, too. Because he was smoking hot, with a bad-boy streetwise sense of justice and smoldering brown eyes under his dark knitted brows, like long, furry caterpillars made out of yarn. He was spoiling for a fight because his ex-girlfriend Rosaline was such a bitch, even after he took her to dinner at the most expensive restaurant in town.

“You know what you need, Montague?”

Romeo’s hot friend Mercutio asked him this question as they tooled through the streets of Verona in his fast Maserati and Bulgari shades, going really fast. Then he answered his own question, rhetorically.

“You need a little rough love, dude.”

They arrived at a major blowout party with hot valet parking, where Juliet Capulet was holding court over a room full of fawning admirers who were hot but not nearly as hot. They wanted her heat because she was extremely hot, like a Queen, and she had new fake tits. She now had a bodice that would not quit even if it broke a nail on the cheap-ass filing cabinet at its father’s lame office where it was only working for the summer because he made it.

“Shit, bro!” shouted Romeo. “Juliet Capulet is smoking hot!”

“Look out!” cried Mercutio, as Juliet’s mean cousin Tybalt arrived and began to fight. Then Juliet’s dad showed up with a new keg, and told Tybalt not to be doing any fighting at his big fancy party. Romeo flipped Tybalt the finger.

“Ha ha! Fuck you, Tybalt! No more handjobs for me, asshole!” cried Romeo as he tongue-kissed Juliet in front of the entire room and felt her up, while the Top Ten party band continued to rock the House of Capulet with its latest dance hits.

After the party, Juliet was super-ready for some hot action but Romeo had to leave because Montagues aren’t supposed to date Capulets, even though there was plenty of money to go around because they were all so rich. She called for some local minstrels to play beneath her window because she liked the lead singer’s style. It made her feel dreamy and woozy as she listened to the hit tunes and stared out the window into the dark, night-like after-dark nighttime.

The next morning, Romeo’s beautiful long eyelashes fluttered as he woke up naked. His ribs rippled underneath his firm, masculine chest like long, bony barbecue ribs, and his arousal was intense and thick and throbbing and long and bony too. Because Juliet was so hot. So that night he went to her house and climbed in the bedroom window and nailed her.

The next day, Juliet’s nurse could see that she had terrible fashion sense for someone with so much money and new implants, plus she was really depressed because Romeo was so hot but still he was a Montague and that sucked.

The nurse said, “Bitch, please! Get off your ass and go see the Apothecary.”

The Apothecary was called that because he could make any drug known, and he was smoking hot, even though he was almost 26. He wore a Dell’Acqua suit and shoes under his white lab coat, because he so admired the talented young hot Italian designer with all his streetwise bad-boy attitude, even though they were women’s clothes. Because he was so hot it still looked really, really amazing and hot when he wore them.

“Here, take this,” he said, and Juliet went home and took the new drug like it was candy. She read her favorite sonnet and stared into Death’s face while she waited for it to take effect. It looked like a skull, without any skin on it. It said, “Hey, baby! You are awesome and hot!”

And then she fell asleep like you fall asleep after a long week of partying, but some people like Lady Capulet and P.J. thought she was dead and the rumors spread like a burning wildfire that was hot, but not the good kind of hot, but like a raging fire in the Amazon rainforest that does a lot of damage and forces you to listen to poor people whine about it.

Rosaline heard about it through the grapevine of people who talked about it all day and so then she called Romeo at his window because she lost her cellphone down her cleavage.

“Guess what, dickface? Juliet is dead. She’s a dead cunt because she was always such a bitch. Cunt. Bitch. Bitch cunt.”

Romeo was pissed off about this, because he only got to nail her that one time and it wasn’t even in the bathroom or in the back of Mercutio’s Maserati or anything cool like that. So he got some poison from the Apothecary, who knew what was going on and everything but didn’t say one word, just for spite, and killed himself.

When Juliet regained consciousness, she could feel her world crashing in on her, like a big wall made of falling stone bricks. But then her friends rescued her and got her some new clothes that made her look really, really fabulous, because she was so hot. And they all promised to be loyal and true best friends until next week.

Dale Dobson writes, animates, and acts in the metropolitan Detroit area, and occasionally gets around to updating