by Matthew Spataro
Scene 1
A group of men lay stretched out on the stage, each with heavy shoulders and weary faces. They lean on either each other or their backpacks, and some empty cans are littered about. They each wear at least one piece of clothing with the letters Rho, Mu, and Pi on them: hat, sweater, or shirt. One is even dressed in a toga.
Brutus enters.
Brutus: (concerned) Bros, what’s wrong?
Within the group, gazes shift as if school children caught by teacher.
Mettelus: (clears throat) It’s just-Julius pulled a dick move last night.
Brutus: (pinches brow) What has he done this time?
Cinna: (shouting) He got super wasted last night, that’s what! We found the dude macking on this totally bangin’ babe. Only problem-she was sixteen! We tried to pull him off a’ her. All we got out of that were threats-and Cassius got a black eye!
Cassius has a bag of frozen peas on his face, removing it to show Brutus.
Brutus: And the girl?
Cassius: He left with her. We, ah, don’t think anything good happened last night.
Brutus: Shit. (scrubs hand through hair)
Trebonius: (standing) This is the last straw, Brutus. He’s been nothing but trouble, and now the dean is gonna revoke our charter if this gets out!
Cinna: Yeah, this is his last strike. He’s been nothing but a pain in our ass! I mean, remember when the girls of Kappa Betta Zeta kidnapped him!
Brutus: I remember. When we didn’t hand over our part of the bill for the co-mixer, he raised the ante and we lost half our activity funds!
Mettelus: Or that time when he kept us all up during finals week!
Trebonius: That was the worst! He partied, day and night!
Cinna: He said he was worried about the tests, that he needed to relax. When we asked why he was nervous… he said: (crude imitation) Cuz I was too busy partying to study!
Brutus: That was vexing…
Cinna: And if he didn’t just make our lives living hell… he also makes our frat looks bad.
He tosses a newspaper onto Brutus’s lap.
Brutus: Frat Head Hates Gays… by the wolves of Rome! What has he done now?
Trebonius: He can’t help a bro out is what it is! I ask him to help me pull one over on some gym membership, to pretend to be my boyfriend. What I get instead is a tirade about how he’s “not gay” and he “can’t believe I’d think he was one of them”! Like, calm down, all I wanted was to save some money not suck his-
Brutus: Anyway! I’m hearing you, I really am. Julius needs to go, I understand… But we can’t just get rid of him, it’s too late in the school year.
Cassius: (whining) But we need to do something! We need him out, like, yesterday!
The group gets closer and starts to discuss plans. Brutus looks on wearily.
Mettelus: Maybe… maybe we can all dress up like ghosts, but cool ghosts-bro-sts-and, and we can spook him out of the house!
Trebonius: Or, we tell him that there’s a beer festival in the middle of the forest, and we leave him there!
Brutus: (snarkily) Y’know, why don’t we just stab Caesar.
The group pauses, and all turn to stare at their Vice President. A murmur breaks out. Mettelus runs off stage.
Y’know that might work.
I’d be down for it, if everybody else is.
Wouldn’t be the first time.
Brutus: (eyes widen) Guys. You cannot be serious.
Cinna: What? It can work.
Brutus: It’s murder!
Cinna: Murder that works.
Mettelus runs back onstage, putting a knife he grabbed from the kitchen into Brutus’s hand. He grips it.
Brutus: A knife!?!
Cassius: Well… gun laws are strict in this state, so… Besides, it’s quick and it’s clean.
Brutus: (starting to get on board with the plan) So you’re serious. We’re really going to do this.
Everyone gives varying levels of agreement.
Brutus: All right then. Sometime soon, Julius Caesar… will die.
He throws the knife off-stage and heads in the opposite direction, his band of brothers following after him.
Scene 2
The group is now gathered around in the common room of their Frat, Julius Caesar included. They sip on beer, quiet, eyes landing on Caesar briefly only to flit away just as quick. Caesar, however, sits naively. He’s bleary-eyed, with his hat backwards, and a large can of beer in his grip.
Someone knocks off-stage.
Brutus: I’ll get it.
He stumbles slightly over to stage right, as if to get the door. When he “opens” the door, a puff of smoke billows out followed by the Soothsayer.
He’s dressed in a casual bathrobe, shuffles around in slippers, and is always carrying. He’s an extra straight out of the Big Lebowski.
Julius: (standing, swaying) Soothsayer, dude! Perfect timing! I was meaning to drop by, y’see, I had just run out of-
Soothsayer: Later, dude. Surprisingly… I have more important things on my mind.
Everyone gasps.
Brutus: What is it?
Soothsayer: I have received, like, a vision: a warning, maybe. A warning… for, like, Julius Caesar!
It’s so silent a pin could drop. Eyes dart around the room, and some brothers like Brutus, start getting uncomfortable. Some swallow audible. Julius Caesar remains unaware.
Julius Caesar: (disbelievingly) A warning? Pfft, how are you so sure? Just what did you see, bro-ham?
Soothsayer: Well… it wasn’t like, a vision-vision… but, like, happenstance with a lot of meaning.
Julius Caesar: Explain!
Soothsayer nods, pulling out a bottle of Caesar salad dressing from his robe. However, it has a knife in it. Brutus’s eyes widen, and Cinna slaps him upside the head. They begin to whisper covertly.
Julius Caesar: What… what does it mean?
Both Cinna and Brutus stop, heads turning towards Caesar. Both wear twin looks of astound over his stupidity.
Soothsayer: Y’see, that… I’m not sure about… but I have an idea-
Julius Caesar: Speak!
Soothsayer: Well, I think the bottle, man, the bottle that says Caesar on it… that’s you! Crazy, right? And-and the knife! The knife could be, and I’m just guessing here… it could be… a knife.
Julius Caesar: …I don’t follow.
Soothsayer: (laughing) Me neither, dude.
He claps Caesar on the back, until he stops laughing suddenly. Everyone else looks on with wide eyes as their plans could be foiled, if there were more than one brain cell between the two men.
Soothsayer: But I have one more warning: Beware the Ides of March!
His hands are outstretched and he starts to back away towards where he entered.
Julius Caesar: Umm… what are March’s “ides”?
Soothsayer: (stops) Well, the-uh, the ides are just, like, a fancy word for… for the 15th of March-
Julius Caesar: So why didn’t you just say March 15th?
Soothsayer: Because, well-look, dude, I didn’t have to come. You’re kinda harshing my funky flow over here
Julius Caesar: Sorry, sorry, no need to harsh your flow. But one more thing, just a quick question, why March 15th?
Soothsayer: (holds up bottle) Oh, well it says so right here, brah: expires March 15th. (returns to arms outstretched pose and voice gets deeper) So beware! Beware! Like… beware!
He leaves. The only sign he was there the faint stench of stale bong water that hangs in the air. Julius Caesar retakes his seat.
Julius Caesar: That was weird.
Everyone releases a breath they were holding.
Scene 3
Brutus walks in from stage right, tired after a long day of classes. He tosses his bag to the right, near the entrance. He stretches, walking forward, until he notices Julius Caesar’s body rolled up on the couch. He sighs, moving forward. He sits on the edge of the couch, checking first to see if he’s breathing. When he sees his chest expand, he sighs again and starts to rub his leg.
Brutus: Did you go to class today, brah?
Julius raises his head and shakes no. Brutus sighs into eternity.
Brutus: (to himself) Didn’t think so. (stands, louder) Come on, get up.
Julius Caesar: Don’t wanna.
Brutus: (pulling) Get up!
He gets the President into a loose sitting position, only for him to crumple and fall back to where he was. Brutus rolls his eyes, but lets go of Caesar’s arm. He looks around the room, eyes landing on an unopen can of beer. He picks it up and cracks it open. Caesar jolts up.
Julius Caesar: I’m up! I’m up!
Again, Brutus rolls his eyes, but hands over the can to Caesar’s grabby hands.
Brutus: (re-sits) Now, care to tell me what has you skipping class… besides the usual?
Caesar chugs the can, finishes it, and crushes it against his head. He tosses it to the side before answering.
Julius Caesar: Well, I’ve just been thinking-
Brutus: You must be sick, then.
Julius Caesar: Fuck off. Here I am trying to tell you that I’m worried about what the Soothsayer said and you just had to be a big bag of dicks!
Brutus’s eyes widen and he starts to laugh awkwardly.
Brutus: Soothsayer? You’re really gonna believe a dude that thinks Ted Cruz is the Zodiac Killer, unironically? He probably just… took a bad hit and stuck that knife in his dressing himself! Yep! That’s it!
Julius Caesar: …Okay? I don’t know-I’ve just got bad juju right now. Like, I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. I can’t drink!
Brutus: I literally just saw you chug that entire thing-
Julius Caesar: Because you opened it. Good beer should not be wasted. Other than that, I haven’t had a drink in, like, 4 hours.
Brutus: (whispers) A record!
Julius Caesar: I know, bro! I don’t know what to do. This thing is really killing my chill vibe.
Brutus suddenly has an idea.
Brutus: I think I have a great idea!
Julius Caesar: What?
Brutus: Let’s throw a mixer!
Julius Caesar: (perks up) A mixer?
Brutus: Yeah! We can make it the same day the Soothsayer told us about. That way, you can relax and if anything does happen, you’ll be surrounded by your brothers! We’d let nothing happen to you!
Julius Caesar: (touched) You’d do that for me?
Brutus: Of course; if anyone tries to do anything, they’ll have to go through us first!
Julius Caesar: Aw, dude. You know I’d hug you if it wasn’t totally gay, right?
Julius Caesar settles on a nice punch and gets up. Brutus looks out into the audience as if he was Jim from the Office.
Julius Caesar: Anyway, we should probably start planning this, March 15th isn’t that far off. I’ll get working on the invite list-you know who’d enjoy this party? Jesus. Oh, and ol’ A. Lincoln, he needs to chill. And I heard about this girl Indira who’s been looking for a chance to let loose-
Brutus: Let us handle the invites. You have enough to worry about.
Julius Caesar: Really? I mean I can do something. Like… like what is the theme for the mixer?
Brutus: Oh, I have the perfect theme in mind… betrayal.
Brutus starts to laugh menacingly, and while it creeps Julius Caesar out, he says nothing and instead smiles awkwardly.
Julius Caesar: A little vague, but I can fuck with it. Alright, I’ll leave you all to it. Just make sure it’s as lit as a Roman Candle!
He heads off stage left.
Brutus: Oh, don’t worry Caesar, it’ll be lit. As will the fires of justice, and you shall soon taste the cold metal of our ire, and feel death’s sweet embrace!
Julius Caesar: (returning) What was that?
Brutus: Nothing! I was… just-just saying that I should… I should get some cold brewskis for this sick rager!
Brutus smiles wide, eyes also wide and one is twitching. Caesar raises a brow, but still says nothing.
Julius Caesar: Oh… righteous!
He leaves stage left again.
Brutus: Yes… righteous… righteous like the swift blow that we will strike into your heart with-
Caesar re-enters again and startles Brutus.
Julius Caesar: Okay, this whole thing where you keep talking while I’m leaving isn’t cool.
Brutus: I’m not saying anything bad. I’m just… getting a mental list together of what we need for this mixer.
Julius Caesar: Can you stop mumbling then? God I don’t need this right now.
For the last time he takes his leave stage right. Brutus waits a beat, checks to make sure he’s out for good, and starts to cackle and rub his hands together maniacally. He pulls out his cell phone.
Brutus: Cinna… yeah, I think I have a solid plan…
Scene 4
Caesar enters from stage left, jumping on the scene. He’s in standard frat party gear: boat shoes, khaki shorts, and a bright pink polo. His hair is greasy and gelled. He looks around the room, only to see his brothers milling about.
Julius Caesar: (deflatedly) Seriously! It’s like, 10 o’clock, that’s the prime time for people to show up!
Mettelus: Well, maybe they want to be… extra fashionably late?
Julius Caesar: Pfft, lameasses, don’t they know that being late stops being cool once I show up?
Cinna: Just goes to show that you must run on a different frequency than the general population.
Everyone starts to laugh, Julius Caesar looks on confusedly.
Julius Caesar: (mumbles) I don’t get it…
Brutus: Never mind that, dude. Why don’t you get the party started? I think they’re playing your song.
Caesar listens, and indeed his song is playing. He hollers and whoops, getting pumped. He jump-dances over to the middle of the stage and begins to dance. He goes hard. Like, really hard. The other brothers start getting into it too, but have to keep an eye out for a swinging first. After a short amount of time the lights dim.
Brutus: Alright, everybody, take out your glowsticks!
Caesar whoops again, cracks his glowstick and starts swiging it around like it’s nobody’s business. He is the only one. Everyone else draws out a knife. The music cuts off.
Julius Caesar: Hey, who killed the tunes-what the!?!
The brothers descend, each taking a turn stabbing Caesar. He is lost in a sea of his former brothers.
Julius Caesar: (muffled) Aww what? Lame man, super weak!!!”
END
