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O Romeo, Romeo, Let Down Your Hair

*coughs awkwardly* Umm

Shit(this is my name guys)

I don't know what to say. I feel like I'm talking to myself because I doubt anyone's still reading this or will bother reading this, considering the last time I updated before today was more than a month ago... well at the very least, I hope my lack of updating made anyone who stuck around go WTF...

This is random, but one time I mistook a man for a woman...

The man had a beard. 

HOW IS IT POSSIBLE TO BE CAPABLE OF SUCH STUPIDITY... *flips hair and winks* I guess I just have this amazing talent where I make the impossible possible. And somehow, in this break I took from updating, my writing went from terrible-nearly-unbearable to WTF MY EYES ARE BLEEDING MAKE IT STOP THIS WRITING IS SHIT(whoops my name popped up again)... I thought having worse writing was impossible, but I guess it wasn't.

ANYWHO... THE CRINGE IS CONTINUED(well I mean it never ended)

***

Tap.

Tap.

Tappity-tappity-fuckity-tappity tap.

What the hell is this- dance class??

I grumbled in frustration at the tapping on the window. It wasn't even windy, so it couldn't be a tree branch... maybe I was right about people tap dancing outside of my window after all.

The taps grew more insistent until they became thuds, banging at my window.

Does my window have a secret lover I never knew about? Because damn... they're really getting it on. They're banging as if there's no tomorrow...

It's always a sad day(or in this situation, night) when you realize your window has more of a love life than you.

Alright. My interest was piqued. I was now going on a mission: Mission Find My Window's Lover. Or maybe it was lust?

Surprisingly, I managed to drag myself out of bed without face planting. Wow. This was going pretty well so far. When I got closer to my window, I was able to pick out a voice calling out.

So my window's lover can speak. I wonder if my window speaks back?

The voice called, "O Romeo, Romeo, let down your hair!"

What the actual fuck?

I swept aside my curtains and peered out my window at the hot popular guy on my front yard. Oh. So it turned out it was a guy chucking rocks at my window.

Stabbing my finger at my window, I accused, "HOW DARE YOU HAVE AN AFFAIR WITH ROCKS AND NOT TELL ME??" I gasped in horror. Wait... rocks as in plural?? "YOU DIRTY WINDOW!" What a crisis. My window was having the time of her life, banging some stone hard rocks while I was being scarred by the sight. My innocent virgin eyes could only take so much.

Hot-Popular-Guy on my front yard continued to call out, "O Romeo, Romeo, let down your hair!" Another pebble made a ping sound against my window.

Right. I guess this was his attempt at not being cliche. Newsflash: Just because you say something different than normal while chucking rocks at the girl's window does not make it uncliche. I doubt that's even a word, but eh. 

"Yo, what happened to the fourth wall??"

Miley swung by my window on her wrecking ball. "Sorry, girl! I couldn't help it."

Then she disappeared, and I was back with the hot-popular-guy I was supposed to end up with at the end of the story.

"No, Miley, come back!"

But it was too late. I would have to face this rock-throwing-boy on my own.

"O Romeo, Romeo, let down your hair!"

I slid open my window and graced him with my stunning smile, flowing, golden locks, and angelic voice. Birds chirped and swans appeared out of nowhere as Ariel began singing in the backgroun-

A pebble hit me in the forehead. Isn't the male protagonist supposed to know you're supposed to stop throwing pebbles when the female protagonist opens the window?? This is off script!

"O Romeo, Romeo, let down your hair!"

A pebble flew through the window and plopped on the floor of my room.

Okay, okay, you can do this. For the sake of  all things cliche, try again.

Once again, I bestowed upon him my beauty and grace. In a most angelic voice, I sang, "SHUT THE FUCK UP BEFORE I COME DOWN THERE AND BEAT THE LIVING SHIT OUTTA YOU, BOI! I'M TRYING TO SLEEP DAMMIT." My whole face was the perfect picture of an innocent angel.

"My Romeo... I do not understand." His face was a picture of confuzzlement, but I could see the smirk creeping up on his face. The little devil. Who the hell would go to such lengths to screw with my sleep?? Why, none other than my popular next door neighbor, of course.

"One! My name's not Romeo. Two! You got that line all wrong and somehow smashed Romeo and Juliet and Rapunzel together. Three! You want me to let down my hair?? Well, in case you haven't noticed, I'm bald. Therefore, I have concluded you are talking about my hare, not my hair." Then I walked to my closet and rummaged around before finding my stuffed animal hare, which consequently had quite a few rocks in it. After walking back over to my window, I chucked it down at him.

"You want my hare? Have it!"

Like the idiot he was, he chucked another rock, seeming to forget I'd opened my window a long time ago. I guess my dear Juliet has amnesia...

My rock-filled hare hit him in the head at the same time the stone hit me in the head. 

The doorbell rang. It sang, "Ding dong, 2 baldies are dead."

I lied. I'm not bald... and neither was he; my love; Juliet.

The last thing the two lovers saw was Pinocchio(or should I say, Pinosechio) trying to teach Voldemort how to grow a nose.

The End

And that, ladies and gentleman, is the real story of Romeo and Juliet.

I feel like I offended a ton of Shakespeare lovers. Oh, and Wizard of Oz lovers. Maybe even Pinocchio and Harry Potter, who nose(AHAHAHAHA GET IT?? *slaps knee but in reality actually slaps thigh*.