Bromeo and Juliet

A line for line translation of Romeo and Juliet into bro-speak. Written by Bill "The Broet" Shakespeare

Act 2. Scene Four. (Part Two)

BENVOLIO. Good God, it’s possible to do the behind-the-back shot?

MERCUTIO. I hate these tools like Tybalt.  Guys who think they’re hot shit and use vocab words they picked up in the one creative writing class they ever attended.  Guys who put themselves up high just ‘cause they can slam a few beers, pretend to be drunk, and wear a bow tie to a party that’s not on Halloween.  This is a sad thing that we live in a world with people like Tybalt.  Complaining comes so easily to them they make ironic .gif files and complain about the difficulties of complaining via Tumblr and Twitter.  Goddamn tools.

Enter ROMEO.

BENVOLIO. Here comes Bromeo.

MERCUTIO. Aw sheeit he looks like a goddamn anorexic hoebag.  He looks like a dried vag.  Is this what happens when you can’t get laid?  See Benvolio, this is what happens when you get caught up in chicks that are outta your league.  Compared to Romeo’s girl, all the other hotties in the world are nothing but Natty Ice, Bud Light, Coors Light, Colt 45, Old English, and that new-even-shittier-than-before Four Loko.  Bonjour Romeo! That’s French you ignorant bastard.  You faked us out pretty hard last night bro.

ROMEO. Morning sunshine. What do you mean that I faked you out?

MERCUTIO. You juked us bro. Broke Benvolio’s ankles. Do you get what I’m saying?

ROMEO. My bad bro. I had some important bizn-ass to attend to. In times such as these, a bro such as myself may fail to follow the bro-code to a ‘T’. 

Act 2. Scene Four. (Part One)

MERCUTIO and BENVOLIO enter hungover.

MERCUTIO. How the fuck is Romeo still missing? Did he get some last night? Is that why he isn’t here?

BENVOLIO. He didn’t make it back to the frat last night. I asked one of the scrawny pledges.

MERCUTIO. Goddamnit, that slut Rosaline is going to drive him insane. I thought we had hazed the nonsense out of him by now.

BENVOLIO. You know that douche Tybalt? Well he sent a mass text this morning to all Greek Life on campus.

MERCUTIO. Challenging me to a shot contest I bet.

BENVOLIO. Romeo is a hard drinker, he’ll answer it.

MERCUTIO. Any bro that can write and major in Econ like me can answer a fucking text.

BENVOLIO. Well Romeo will probably get at him over Twitter. Challenge that bitch so the whole world can see how bad Tybalt’s gonna lose this shot contest.

MERCUTIO. Romeo can’t answer this challenge! He’s turned into a bitch thanks to that fucker Cupid’s love arrows. He’s such a love-sick girl now all he could probably stomach is Malibu rum and appletini’s. He isn’t man enough to go mano a mano with Tybalt.

BENVOLIO. What makes Tybalt so badass?

MERCUTIO. He’s one hard motherfucker. Of course he smiles and shakes hands with all the right people.  He wins shot contests like it’s a Skrillex concert. He pays attention to the rhythm, the lighting, and then he loses himself in that ish and goes into a trance. He knows all the best moves and strategies.  He can do the Double-Double Shot Throwback, the Infinite Ice Luge, the King’s Cup Shuffle, even the the legendary Behind-The-Back Beer Pong Shot.  

Act 2. Scene Three. (Part Three)

ROMEO. Fine! Get this through your smoke addled brain, I have got the hots for Juliet the Capulet. I’m into her, she’s into me, and now we need you to seal that ish so that I can actually be in her. I can fill you in on the kick-ass details of how I was totally boss last night and snuck around and threw rocks at her window and shit like it was a total fucking movie.  But, I need you marry us today.

FRIAR LAWRENCE. Holy Saint Mary Jane! You’ve dropped Rosaline after what, two weeks, for this new girl? Do you literally only love with your cock, because I’m not sure how in the hell you could want to get married after meeting her last night when you were trashed, she was schwasted, and it was darker than black in her garden.  Tell me this bro, O Manliest of Man, how many tears did you cry for Rosaline? I’ll give you a hint: A lot. A fuck ton. You were crying for her like a toddler after stubbing his toe.  Vebrona U is covered in a fog from your sighs that the sun has yet to clear. That groaning pseudo-weeping sound is still ringing in my ears. Look, you’ve even got a whole gorge on your cheek where the tears were so thick they made a permanent imprint. So now you’re telling me you love this shorty Juliet? Please. I will give you this advice before you throw your life away: You can’t expect women to be faithful when you’re off crying over porn stars and MySpace photos.

ROMEO. You were like a stick in my ass and all over my case for loving Rosaline.

FRIAR LAWRENCE. Dumbass, I scolded you for stalking her, not for loving her.

ROMEO. And then you told me to bury my love. In the dirt. With my hands.

FRIAR LAWRENCE. I didn’t tell you to lay it in a grave and then immediately fall in love with the next vagina you saw!

ROMEO. Would you chill! That whore from before didn’t love me back.  The one I love now is totally DTF.

FRIAR LAWRENCE. Oh no, Rosaline knew you didn’t actually love her because you have literally no clue what that means.  But, after having a very brief but vivid acid flashback, I can now see that this secret wedding might actually have some good to it because it would unite your two houses and you drunk bastards would stop destroying the streets every night.

ROMEO. Well then let’s get this shit on the road!

FRIAR LAWRENCE. I would urge caution and pacing. The tortoise won by not tripping on the hare… or something like that.

Act 2. Scene Three. (Part Two)

ROMEO. Your guess is right Your Brauthority.  I had a more restful rest than sleep last night, if you know what I’m gettin’ at.

FRIAR LAWRENCE. Holy fucking shit, you sinned hardcore last night didn’t you? Was it with that petri dish- sorry, that bitty, Rosaline?

ROMEO. With Rosawho? No, I have forgotten that whore’s name and all the bullshit sadness and herpes she gave me.

FRIAR LAWRENCE. I’m not sure you’re clear on how herpes works, but it’s good you’re over the sadness. So then, if not Rosaline, where in the hell were you?

ROMEO. So get this. I got totally shitfaced with my enemy last night. When, out of fucking nowhere, I learn that Cupid’s arrow is totally fucking sharp because it wounded me through the heart, so I pulled that shit out and chucked at the woman who shot his arrow at me. Well you’re the man with the plan, the herbal and state-abided plan. You can cure us both, if you know what I mean.

FRIAR LAWRENCE. Good God, you got a bitch pregnant.

ROMEO. No!

FRIAR LAWRENCE. Well then stop talking in metaphors and similes and allegories and parables and other bullshit shit. Speak plainly, I’m not at my best in the mornings after journeying the spiritual world. 

Act 2. Scene Three. (Part One)

Enter the Campus Chaplain, FRIAR LAWRENCE, alone and carrying a basket.

FRIAR LAWRENCE. Ohhh shiiit, check that out. The so colorful grey night is being consumed and eaten by the vivacity of the morning colors. The darkness is drunk, it can’t get out of the sun’s way fast enough.  Before the kick ass sun comes up, I need to fill my basket with some powerful herbs and fungi and weeds that Mother Earth has so graciously provided for my use. Oh ho-ly-sh-it. I just realized something amazing. Earth, the motherfucking earth, is both nature’s womb and grave.  Plants grow out of the ground, then die and get buried in the ground, and all of this shit happens naturally. All these plants and shit are like children, each unique and precious in its own way.  They all have their own power that is so crazy ass amazing and makes me feel just so fucking super.  I’ve got this theory right, and oh fuck me I should add this shit to my recitation, but I’ve got this theory that there is no thing on earth that is so evil that it doesn’t add something beautiful to this world. Virtue becomes vice if it’s used wrong.  But vice becomes beautiful motherfucking virtue when used correctly.

ROMEO enters. 

FRIAR LAWRENCE. Check this little motherfucking plant flower thing here.  It’s got both poisonous shit and medicinal shit.  If you smell this, you get high as fuck, but if you taste it, well you trip your balls off for like thirty seconds until you die.  This is yin and yang shit here people.  Two sides to everything.  Think on that bitches.

ROMEO. Good morning father.

FRIAR LAWRENCE. Christ’s sake Romeo couldn’t you see I was talking to myself and didn’t want to be interrupted!  Benedicite bro.  Wait a minute, how are you awake this early?  Usually around this time you’re passing out in a gutter or realizing the girl you’ve been banging has been asleep the past hour.  Old men usually get out of bed this early because they’re worried about something.  Young men should be sleeping pretending like their weak ass hangover is some kind of sign of how awesome they were last night.  No, you’re awake now, not drunk, not hungover, not smelling like a frat house’s upper floors.  Good lord, what the fuck happened?

Act 2. Scene Two. (Part Five)

JULIET. I hear some shit inside. I should probably act cool. Just chill for a second here, I’ll be right back.

JULIET heads inside to deal with that HOUSE MOTHER.

ROMEO. Fuck yeah motherfucker! This is like a night from a movie. But I’m bugging out that this might be a dream because it’s night.  It’s like a Mike’s Hard, too sweet to be real actual.

JULIET comes back. 

JULIET. Here’s the deal Romeo, then it’s goodnight for real. If you’re honest and true and not like those other juicin’ bro shitheads with funny balls and soft cocks, and you actually wanna make this shit real shit, then lets get married. You tell me where and when tomorrow and I’ll be there, and I’ll lay my trust fund at your feet and follow you anywhere.

HOUSE MOTHER. (from inside) Juliet!

JULIET. Be there in a sec! But if you’re gonna be a cocksucker about this I swear to god I’ll-

HOUSE MOTHER. (from inside) Juliet!

JULIET. Jesus Christ I’m coming - I’ll call up my brother and his lax bros and have them fuck your shit up.

ROMEO. My heart is pumping literally only because of you-

JULIET. Good night times a thousand. I’ll be for sure seeing your fine ass tomorrow

As ROMEO starts to leave, JULIET turns back.

JULIET. Romeo!

ROMEO. Yeah?

JULIET. If I send you a text at about nine, will you be up and not hungover?

ROMEO. Word up for sure.

JULIET. Ok I’ll be on that ish like a bro prowler and a passed out girl. I think I forgot why I called you back here.

ROMEO. Ok then I’ll just chill here til you remember.

JULIET. I’ll probably forget and then you’ll keep standing there til you’re chilling because of chilliness, and then that’s not as hot as chillin.

ROMEO. Then I’ll stay here and do pushups and Ab Ripper X so I stay hot for you.

JULIET. It’s almost morning. This has been an insane night, and you should probably go.  But I’d feel like a bunch of bros playing beer pong.  They only let the ball bounce so far before they snatch that shit back up.

ROMEO. I wish I was your pong ball.

JULIET. So do I. But I’d probably kill you by drowning you in all the cups I hit in a row like a boss.  Parting is a totally raw bitch and a half, but it’ll all be better when I catch a glimpse of you tomorrow.

Fucking Twitter, who uses that shit?

Some bro’s were like, bro go make a fucking twitter account of this shit so that more people can like read your shit.  And I was like alright. 

@BromeoandJuliet

Don’t be a douche, follow that ish.

Thanks bros, you rock. The support has been out of control, can’t thank you enough. This round is on me.

Act 2. Scene Two. (Part Four)

ROMEO. Listen babe, I swear to you, on my faith as a dubstepping, keg-lifting, creatine juicing, baseless fan of Texas football-

JULIET. Oh no, don’t swear by Texas football.  They’re way too overrated, especially considering, despite popular belief, they have only won 4 national championships, and last year had a losing record for the first time in recent memory, and who could forget the 2009 championship game where Alabama blew them out of the water? No, do not swear by the inconsistent and overrated Texas Longhorns.

ROMEO. Then what in the fuck do I swear by?

JULIET. Just swear in yourself and your ability to fuck, if you can’t swear to that, you can’t swear at all.

ROMEO. I can totally swear that-

JULIET. Actually, no. Don’t. Just don’t. I don’t know what the hell I’m thinking.  I don’t wanna get with you tonight. The absinthe I had must have made me hallucinate, because this is insane.  Our love right now is only the beginning of a deadmau5 song, exciting but only because you know it’s deadmau5.  Maybe when we meet again we’ll experience the bass drop of love, but until then, I hope you chill out and rest and get rid of this hangover.

ROMEO. Oh wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?

JULIET. What satisfaction can you possibly have from me tonight?

ROMEO. …………..

JULIET. ???

ROMEO. ………….

JULIET. ????

ROMEO. The exchange of…. of promise rings….

JULIET. You fucking serious? I already gave you that shit in words, are you seriously fucking asking me to wear a mood ring?  I really wish I could take that back now.

ROMEO. No! Why would you take that ish back? 

JULIET. My brain tells me I need to take that shit back because of how fucking retarded that shit was you just said. But I would probably take it back just so I could give it to you again. I’m no slut, and I’m no dumb bitch like some of these other sorostitutes, but goddamnit I think I’m really into you.

The HOUSE MOTHER ruins the moment like a sloppy drunk by dropping her drink inside and making a whole lot of noise.

Act 2. Scene Two. (Part Three)

JULIET. How did you even get in here?  The walls are high and, no offense, but you don’t look like you have the core strength to get over that.  If any of my sisters find you they’ll for sure call their bro’s who’ll pound your face in for climbing the wall.

ROMEO. You kidding me? I’ve got steel abs made from countless crunches and sex thrusting.  These are the abs chiseled and torn from love, and no wall can keep out sex abs, everyone knows that.

JULIET. But what if someone sees you here?  They’ll stomp your ass like a drunk lax bro.

ROMEO. One nasty look from you would be worse than twenty rugby fuckers brandishing brass knuckles.  Just keep eye fucking me, and none of their bullshit will ever scare me.

JULIET. I would give anything to keep them from seeing you.

ROMEO. Christ I get it! Look, it’s night out, I’m dressed in black, they’re not gonna see me so give it a rest goddamnit.

JULIET. Wait, how in the hell did you find my bedroom?

ROMEO. I have a nose for wet pussy that wants my ass.  My nose was like BOOM! GO THAT WAY! So, I was like sure.  Look even if you were across the ocean I’d take some sailing lessons and go find you.

JULIET. Well it’s a good thing it’s night out or else you’d see me blushing like a little freshman whose cherry just popped.  My Big always tells me to keep up my manners and never a let a guy know just what you’re thinking, she seems to think that makes guys like us more.  But fuck that bullshit.  Do you think you love me?  I know you’ll say yes and I’ll believe it, but then you’d just turn out to be a lying scumbag and then I’d look like the dumbass.  If you say you love me you’d better mean it, or else I’ll play hard-to-get, flirt with other guys, and chop your balls off, maybe not in that order either.  I really hope you don’t think I’m being too much of a bitch or too much of a sorostitute slut.  I’m usually not like this. But trust me, if you are true, I’ll be true and then we can dent some headboards and keep this whole campus awake through the nights.

Act 2. Scene Two. (Part Two)

JULIET. Romeo! Romeo! Where the fuck did that drunk ass bro drag himself too? If only you’d be totally raw and badass and deny your frat house and forget your bro name like how USC pretends Reggie Bush never went there or bro’s conveniently forget to tell the ho they’re boning they’ve got crabs. Or, here I’ll make it easy for you. Come to me and I’ll drop my name like when I did that mad dash from AT&T to Verizon when the iPhone came out. 

ROMEO. Should I hear more, or should I jump out like a fucking stalker?

JULIET. Unlike AT&T, it’s only your name that’s my enemy. All AT&T did was drop calls and buttrape me with phone bills. And what in the fuck is a Montague anyway? It’s a frat house yes, but it’s more like a cesspool of spoiled bro’s who think majoring in the same thing as your dad (general business, not even something legitimate and specific like accounting or economics) is what any self-respecting man should do. Goddamnit Romeo don’t be a fucking Montague! Patron would still be as tasty and smooth as gold if that drank was drank from a crystal glass with ice and salt as if it was slammed back from a Nalgene during class.  Romeo, just say fuck it and get your Adidas ass up here so I can show you how a Nike fucks.

ROMEO. (coming out of hiding) I’ll tap that ass fine and hard!  If you say you love and want me, I’ll be the Entourage to your Sex and the City. From now on, I’ll never be Romeo.

JULIET. Holy cuntmotherfuckingbastardcocks! Who in the flying fuck is hiding out there listening to my drunken rant!?

ROMEO. I, uh, don’t know how to tell you my name without actually telling you my name, which you just compared to that gay ass soccer company adidas, and now I hate my name just like I hate their low-ankle-support-definitely-NOT-Air-Jordan-basketball-shoes. 

JULIET. I’ve barely heard you speak but I would recognize that slurred speech and disdain for all shoes sans Air Jordans and Timberlands as my bro Romeo. But you’re still a Montague… more like, Montagay.

ROMEO. I ain’t any of those names, but if you want to call me Air Jordan I’ll be happy to be known as His Airness.