Saving Juliet

I loved the kiss. That's why I smiled at you. I loved it. I was embarrassed by how much I loved it. (Troy Summer)

Our doubts are traitors and make us lose the good we oft might win, by fearing to attempt. In other words, a wish is a good place to start but then you have to get off your butt and make it happen. You have to pick up a quill and write your own damn story. (Mimi Wallingford)

Troy sighed with frustration. "Let me get this straight. We're stuck in the story of Romeo and Juliet and we can't get home without a magic charm from Shakespeare's quill, which doesn't exist in this world. However, we might be able to get home when the story ends, but if Romeo and Juliet don't meet, then we don't have a story. More important, we don't have an ending." Friar Laurence tsk tsked. He placed his speckled hand on Troy's forehead. "Bless you, my son, but a fever has muddled your mind.

a wish is a good place to start but then you have to get off your butt and make it happen. You have to pick up a quill and write your own damn story.

Once you start spending time together, you'll learn things about her that no one else could have told you. Things that you never would have suspected. Like the fact that she snores and has cold feet." He folded his arms and I caught his smile in my peripheral vision. Why was he smiling at me? Hey, was he referring to our nap on the cot? "Maybe you'll learn that she'd make a great doctor or that she has the capacity to care about people she barely knows." He took a dramatic pause, leaning against the wall. "Maybe you'll learn that she's not the spoiled princess you thought she was." Maybe you'll learn that she'd rather have someone speak directly to her than about her," I said, folding my arms and leaning against the wall.

He waved to me to be quiet, as if I were annoying background noise. "Look, whatever your name is..." Benvolio Montague." Right. Look, Benvolio, why don't we go outside and get a taxi? My label has a New York office. We can go there and get you a money order or something." He smile, thinking himself clever. "Come on, what do you say?" Benvolio raised an eyebrow. "I am begining to believe that you are insane.

Imagine hearing a group of drunken warriors shouting your name and following it with a must die . Suddenly I missed my superspecial tagline: Great-granddaughter of Adelaide Wallingford. The tagline Must Die totally sucked.

My son, there is no reason to be distraught. The leeches will cleanse your wound." The friar scratched one of his enormous ears with the tweezers. "My insurance doesn't cover freaky friars or leeches." Troy sat up and swung his legs over the cot. A strip of cloth was wrapped around his gray tights, just above his left knee. A dark red stain had spread across the strip. "When my agent finds out you've kept me here, instead of taking me to a hospital, he'll cram a lawsuit up your butt so fast you'll be the one who's...distraught.

We shall sing and be merry. Troy had agreed to sing my song 'Girl, Come Hither and We Shall Dither." "Uh, not really," Troy said. "Perhaps you would prefer 'Girl, Come and Handle My Candle?

Juliet took a hesitant step toward Troy, looking at him the way a child looks at a new toy. "I've henver heard a man speak in such a manner. Who are you? "I'm..." "That's Troy." O saod, stepping between them. The less Golden Boy said the better.

We walked up the steps of a quaint stone church. "Get those friggin' leeches away from me!" a familiar voice yelled from a second story window...."I said, no leeches!

Solitary muttering allows you to say all those things you don't have the courage to say to all those people who are driving you nuts.