A Shakespearean Lament

My most profound apologies to the bard! (Of course the original monologue was his!)


A Shakespearean Lament
Imagine Hamlet as a young man, pondering an order given to him by his mother, Queen Gertrude:

To clean, or not to clean, that is the question.
Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind of the teen age child
To clean the room now called a sty,
Or to suffer the slings and arrows
Of outraged parents.

To clean, or not to clean.
To remove the hills of laundry,
fragrant with the wear of many days,
Freeing the unwashed gym clothes
From their corner behind the door;

To cleanse the room of the many odors of myself!
To disinfect, to dust, to vacuum!
To free the dead wrappers of candy, chips and gum
From their grave beneath my bed.
Gently laid to rest after they served their purpose.

To clean, or not to clean.
To strip my bed of its wonderful coverings,
Soft with the sleep of many weeks,
Or to rest upon the sharp creases of fresh washed sheets.
I need to rest.

To rest, perchance to lie,
To lie down upon my bed.
And see the pretty colors of the scientific experiment
In the glass beside my bed,
And on the apple core in the corner.

To see the life growing in my room,
The fruits of my non-labor.
To clean would be to render this room barren,
An empty landscape, just like any other room.
I’m hungry.

To eat, or not to eat; that is the question.
Whether to sneak the hidden candy leftover from Halloween,
Or to suffer the groans and grumbles of a stomach
Insisting on being fed,
Waiting until dinner is ready.

Alas, poor stomach! I know you well.
Always aching to be filled,
And telling the world.
Your voice is loud,
And speaks for the bottomless pit inside me.

To eat, or not to eat, that is definitely a question.
To slip quietly to the kitchen,
Snatching a bag of chips from around the corner.
She will not know,
This time I will eat my spinach.

Alas poor stomach! You must stay hungry.
Wait you must, for I have decided
I will not clean.
And I’m stuck here in my room
Until the cleaning’s done.

To clean, no, not to clean.
I am hungry, but I will not do it.
She can’t make me do it,
I will assert my independence;
I’ll go to sleep instead.

As a former teen, and the mother of an almost teen myself, it’s no wonder Hamlet’s mother sent him away to school!