The gentleman Romeo, if he can even be called such, has besmirched my family’s honor for the last time, and for this, he must pay with his life.

Romeo must die.

Please know that I have not reached this decision lightly or without provocation. I was willing to forgive Romeo the many insults he had brandished, but even one as kind and forgiving as I has a breaking point, a terrible moment when even the very heart within us cries out, “Enough! Enough! Surely this vile, unholy tide of offense must ere long wane!”

But it did not!

It did not wane!

The scornful laughter, the queer and sideways looks, yea, even his forbidden romance with my young and innocent cousin — all these I have sought to handle with the subtle grace befitting my status. I am not fool enough to believe that my noblesse should enoculate me from such slings and arrows, borne as I know they are out of the petty jealousy of lesser men.

But friends, there comes a time when even a gentleman of my exalted station and breeding, faced with provocation so foul that I dare not speak of its substance, must repay the ultimate insult with the ultimate punishment.

Prithee, what? You beg me speak of its substance?

I shall not! I must not.

Very well.

Know ye now that his exalted list of topmost friends, upon which my name was once surpassed only by that of Founder Tom, was stripped of all its reference to my humble person! I wish with all my heart it were not true, but it is so!

Cry treachery! Cry havoc!

Romeo must die!

To be honest, I’m not quite sure what all the fuss is about. Unholy tides of offense? Queer and sideways looks? For heaven’s sake, death?? Come on!

Romeo’s not such a bad guy, once you get to know him.

The other day, for instance, Romeo and I were chillin’ out by the market and he started telling me about this girl he had a thing for. Ol’ Romes wanted her bad, but she was gonna be a nun, so I was all like, “Dude, forget about her — there are plenty of other hotties out there, right?” Then we went to this crazy party, and instead of moping around all night in his creepy robes mumbling about insults like some other guys, he got back on the pony!

Figuratively, of course.

That’s how my man Romeo rolls!

Again figuratively.

He’s also really good at lots of stuff, like that rhyming game Andre the Giant liked in The Princess Bride, and fencing, and also needlepoint. But he’s not so good at needlepoint that he makes you feel stupid for not having the basketweave stitch down, you know? I hate those guys.

Anyway, who’s this other guy kidding with his talk of “exalted station” and “subtle grace”? Just the other day, I was stopping this fight when he came flying in like a madman, waving some big ol’ sword around, talking about how he “hated peace” as much as he “hated hell, and me!” Weird!

I’m starting to think death is this guy’s answer to everything.

But back to Romeo — I mean, sure, he can get a little emotional, and I wish that party girl had been older than 14, but you can’t have everything! He’s a good guy, and I wish my opponent could see that. Maybe Mercutio can help me arrange a meeting.

Romeo’s not that bad!