A Dingy school auditorium.

Filled with bored high-schoolers.

On stage: We're mid-way through a production of Romeo and Juliet.

The kid playing Romeo? Some scrawny prick with a peach-fuzz mustache. 

He kneels before his Juliet's balcony, all dramatic like. Her dress is a little dirty and far too large.

"But soft! What light through—uh..."








With a wild grin, Graves addresses the crowd.

"Alright, kiddos! Buckle up, because Gravy gotta out lesbian some joker who thinks his shit smells too sweet for the Boneyard." He snaps his attention to Juliet. "You! Stay put. You're my co-star now. Don't worry, I don't bite—



—much."

He clears his throat and hocks a loogie into the crowd. It lands smack on a kids cheek. 

EW.

He then struts center stage, knocking over a prop vase. It shatters. 

Opps—no, wait... He doesn't sell it at all.

Gravy looks up to Juliet again.

"Yo, Julie-baby! What light and all that jazz!"

Eyes wide and filled with fear, Juliet stammers her line. "Oh... O Romeo... R—Romeo! Um... wherefore art thou Romeo?!"

"Wherefore? Who cares!?"

A teacher finally tries to intervene. Graves grabs a prop sword and swings it wildly, chasing them off stage.

"…See?"

He turns back to the crowd.

"That’s the problem with you talkers. You got all sorts of dreamy words about windows and stars and whatever the fuck, but as soon as real walks in the room, all them words suddenly mean shit."

He looks back to Juliet.

"Don't move!"

And back to the crowd.

"You know, they got me fighting one of them lesbians next Anarchy."

It's evident that most of these kids have no idea who Gravy even is. 

"Sir Lionel Pennyfarter. Scored a big W. Earned a bright spotlight. A standing ovation, even. 

Not that he got it. 

As soon as Big Oz realized what happened?

Busted jaw. Bloody heap. 

Not strong enough to stand his ground. 

Not smart enough to run."

The kids look uncomfortable as they ponder if that was a warning to them.

"Now the cause and effect continues, as Sir Lionel finally lands the biggest role of his life. 

The role of Micheal Graves!

Leader!

Mentor!

Champion!!!

Some call me a loudmouth troll.

Others call me a walking nightmare.

Sir Lionel won't be callin' me shit, because the dummy went and got his jaw broken right before a role that requires two things he ain't fuckin' got.

Words.

Violence."

He tilts his head sideways.

"MAAAYBE if he'd stuck around the Boneyard a little longer, we could've corrected—AT LEAST—one of them problems!"

Shrug.

"Hope you've studied miming, pal."

Juliet hasn’t moved.

"Alright, take it from the top."

Juliet swallows.

"O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou—"

Graves holds up a finger.

"Stop."

He looks upto Juliet like a disappointed director.

"You’re askin' where I am."

He taps his chest.

"Baby, I'm right here!

And this is why these plays are stupid."

Getting worked up now, he turns back to the crowd.

"You ever notice how every single one of these things got an obvious ending?"

He gestures between himself and Juliet.

"Boy meets girl."

"Boy likes girl."

"Boy climbs up to girl's room."

He grabs a prop ladder and drags it into place beneath the balcony.

"But instead of just gettin' there?"

He plants a foot on the first rung.

"Writers gotta get cute about it."

And starts climbing.

"Throw in poison."

Second rung.

"Throw in miscommunication."

Third.

"Throw in some dumb letter that don’t get delivered on time."

The balcony shifts slightly as he grabs the rail.

A few kids in the front row lean forward.

"All to avoid the obvious!"

He climbs higher.

The ladder wobbles.

The whole balcony begins to tilt.

Juliet gasps.

"Because if Romeo just climbs the damn balcony..."

The ladder gives with a loud CRACK.

The entire balcony lurches sideways as Graves holds on.

SCREAMS from the crowd.

Juliet stumbles over the rail.

Graves reaches the top just in time to grab her.

The whole set collapses in a thunderous crash.

Graves twists mid-fall taking the brunt of it across his back as they hit the stage.

Dust kicks up everywhere.

The crowd goes silent in awe of the spectacle, until one kid shouts: "HOLY SHIT!"

Juliet blinks, completely unharmed.

Graves realizes she’s in his arms.

Realizes what he just did.

His face twists in immediate disgust.

He shoves her off of him.

She rolls away, scrambling to her feet.

Graves pushes himself up and brushes dust off his gear.

"See?"

He kicks aside a broken piece of balcony railing.

"Ain't no writers here to avoid the inevitable."

He looks out at the stunned crowd.

"And the inevitable truth is: Sir Lionel’s been cast as the victim"

Wicked grin.

"And on my stage, that role has Grave Consequences."

Somebody pulls the fire alarm.

Students scatter as we fade to—



—black.