"To be or not to be? Alas, poor Yorick, I knew him..." announces a man in baudy black tights with an obscene skull puppet in his hands, "Yep, that's me, Yorick. So, Hammy, how has life been treating you? I can see Bottom's made an ass of himself! Hee haw!"
Hamlet was a ventriloquist?
"Get out of here, Hamlet! I'm working on Midsummer Night! Mordred wants the play ready by week's end! If you keep interupting me, I'm going to rewrite your play from a comedy into a tragedy!" roars William angrily giving the black clad comic the bum's rush down the staircase.
"Now, Bottom, my boy, don't let Hammy get under your skin. I was serious about rewriting that play to be a tragedy, I've gone a keen idea about cuting all the crazy Ophelia stuff at the end, and just having the bitch drown herself. Then instead of having the Rosencrantz and Gildenstern get punked, they get executed when they deliver their letter. And get this everyone - and do mean everyone - including Hammy boy gets killed at the end."
Bottom brayed and stomped his hoof happily.
"Yeah, I thought you'd like that. There's a good, Bottom."
"Puck! Puck!" shouts a voice downstairs.
"Mordred's calling you," the Bard says jabbing Ryan in the chest.
"Puck! Alright then, Ryan!" shouts the voice.
Somebody knows Ryan's real name. He skips as fast as he can down the stairs with his diaphonous shorts revealing far more of his bouncing junk than he would like. He wants answers. This guy should be able to give them.