Act 1 Two households, both alike in dignity. Along the fair Saskatchewan Prairies, we lay our scene. It’s not as flat as they say, you just have to go north. But it’s in the flat south where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. From forth the horny woes of adolescence, a pair of star-crossed lovers offer up their lives. Amongst pleas, the adults have heard enough. With his death, Romeo hopes to bury the strife. A fearful passage of death-marked love and the continuance of rage – which but marked their children’s end, naught could remove. What here was missed, my toil shall strive to mend it in the impending passages. “Clean your room, Romeo!” Mother Teresa yells out. “Give me an hour…” Tiny Romeo mumbles. “Now!” Montague yells in a typical rage at Romeo’s lack of listening capabilities. I listened fine! I could hear my own heartbeat and thoughts after all… It wasn’t that Romeo didn’t listen; Romeo just listened when it made sense to listen. Midway through a video game level was not the ideal time to go and clean one’s bedroom. “Eat your supper!” Mother Teresa yells out. “But it’s gross…” Romeo says. A battle held in contention with the family over many years. Green beans were the worst. Which was weird because I liked them as a baby. But where could one put such foul offerings? I tried the top of the garbage, even the bottom. I put them in my pocket, but they ended up in washing machine. “There are starving kids in Africa you know…” Montague would say. “I’d be happy to mail them all my Green beans!” Romeo says trying to kill two birds with one stone. I could feed starving kids, and wouldn’t have to eat my beans! “I don’t run a restaurant!” Romeo’s mom would say while she cut chicken breasts in half, and filled them with the most archaic stuff. That confused me. She seemed to definitely run some sort of 4- star Michelin restaurant for the family. I was just asking for a 1-star salt and peppered piece of chicken. What nights didn’t contain battles often contained some sort throughout the day for Tiny Romeo. No one could really see a problem with me, perhaps because at the stem of it, there really wasn’t a problem. At 2 years old I had speech and hearing problems. We went in for a surgery to have tubes inserted. I seemed to display a lot while not displaying anything at all. The story was already shaping up so it could be a number of things. By grade 2 Tiny Romeo would ask Mother Teresa why I was different than the other kids, thought differently and liked everything they didn’t. But I was just unique or something, which just seemed like a nicer word then the one I’d used; weird. Someone was hired to observe Tiny Romeo during class in grade 3. Over the course of the one- hour class, she observed that I got up, moved around, fidgeted, or disturbed a kid 67 times. On average I stimmed more then once every minute. She noted that I still did work the entire time. That prompted ADHD testing. That made me excited. Maybe I’d get some answers. The testing just looked like a video game. I was really good at those. Even better than my bullies! Maybe if I aced this test, I’d get those answers. I aced it alright and was told that all it indicated was “mild ADD tendencies”. Tiny Romeo was really mad at the psychologist and snapped at Mother Teresa after. Just a fluttering of wasted time. I’d done so good; they dropped an H altogether! I was bullied before I even started in the school environment. When I did enter it, there was a girl who had a very big smile. I played musical chairs until it didn’t seem obvious that I was making a move. She liked art, so I offered to let her use my pack of 12 crayons. She didn’t even look at Tiny Romeo, just pulled out the holy grail of crayons. A 64 phat pack equipped with its own pencil sharpener. The Rolls Royce of crayons. But she wasn’t done. Next, she pulled out Mr. Smelly Markers. Tiny Romeo lit up. Mother Teresa couldn’t afford such pleasantries. I asked if I could use them, but still not looking, she said she didn’t want them to dry out. Tiny Romeo got the hint and receded to the outer belt of tables with the other outcasts. I tapped my pencil while I listened to the teacher. It annoyed the other kids who would ask me to stop. I’d ask them what they wanted me to stop. “The tapping!” I tried tapping my foot, but got the same response, “You’re just trying to annoy us, Romeo!” and I’d grow sad, because I wasn’t. I met a weird girl there; she wore a really soft sweater. I wasn’t too interested when she didn’t wear it. I wasn’t sure why she wasn’t getting the hint. Tiny Romeo had met his first infatuation. I quickly met my first heroine after that. By the time Tiny Romeo met Sydney, I’d already kissed 2 other girls my age and one in grade 4 or 5. I would dread Monday morning, until I met Sydney. One time she stood up for Tiny Romeo who had been pushed down by much older kids at the Daycare. She shined in the sun, while blocking it out of my face as I lay there helpless. She extended a hand, and brushed the dirt off my shoulders. We were only a brief flicker of the candle. Even a Tiny Romeo was filled with passion, exuding from my big heart. I was so grateful to have her in my life. We cuddled under a blanket while watching a movie at the daycare. Except I pulled the covers over and we started to “Daycare Movie and Chill”. We were separated by adults that noticed the woes of tiny children under a blanket. After we just snuck glances back and forth at each other. Wanting more. Processing what just happened. Over-brimming with brain chemicals. She left shortly after and wasn’t around when Tiny Romeo started The Milk Mafia. If she had been, she’d definitely have been my Goomah. Even if she went to a different school. I started a child enterprise at the beginning of grade 2. A chocolate milk scheme. Arcola had started offering a milk program. Chocolate and white milk at 50 cents a slurp. But 250ml cartons weren’t enough for such hankering of sugary beverages. By the time we reached the front of the line, we’d be informed they were sold out. I thought about it over one weekend, and thought up a plan. I opened my piggy bank, a replica of the piggy bank in Toy Story. I took out 50 cents. I raised my hand before the lunch bell and asked to go pee. The line for milk opened up before the bell. I was now one of the first in line. The kids would be amazed at the magic Tiny Romeo would pull off later. We waited in line and as usual, we were told they’d sold out. I pulled out a lone carton of chocolate milk from my jacket, popped the top, and started drinking it to the other kids’ bewilderment. Even Tiny Romeo was looking for special effects. One of my bullies who was in the other grade 2 class asked how I obtained it. A magician never reveals one’s secrets though. I hadn’t learned how to sacrifice myself in order to try and survive yet. All Tiny Romeo needed at this point was a milk crate and I’d have been tall enough to reach some revolutionary status. At first, I did what any noble revolutionary would do; I gave the people what they wanted. The smiles and sticking it to the man were reward enough. Work was hard though, time wasn’t cheap. I could get caught. Next, I did what any sensible revolutionary does; I have people pay for my cause. For each milk I get you, the Milk Mafia received one. Kids seemed addicted to chocolate milk. I had to start a chocolate milk loan shark service. I kept the tabs in my head and on days I’d have no customers, I’d hunt down someone who owed the Milk Mafia. Even I’d become addicted! But I ran the operation, so that was alright… right? But what Tiny Romeo really fed on was the power adjustment. Be-tiny-ed for so long, and now the bullies didn’t dare lay a finger on me. The one time one did, he just watched his friends enjoy chocolate milk and pleaded for one. He learned a lesson, but I hadn’t learned that absolute power corrupts absolutely. I was only 7 years old, running a small enterprise. Otherwise, I’d have taken hard cash over liquid gold. Greed festered among the kids. One kid seemed to have an endless supply of cash and the other kids started to question. Even I thought it was suspicious, but alas, my only concern was chocolate milk. I was just starting to get a lot of it, more then I could handle.