"Alas, poor Yorick. I knew him, Horatio; a fellow
of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy."
My Dearest Friend Hamlet,
Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but your Uncle Claudius has murdered your father and married your mother, Queen Gertrude. He has stolen your birthright, the Throne of Denmark.
The tormented ghost of Old King Hamlet stalks the battlements at midnight and, to make matters worse, it seems that you've murdered Ophelia's father, Polonius. She's mad with grief.
Now, Ophelia's drowned herself and her brother, Laertes, is after blood. Your blood, Bonny Lad!
As if things weren't bad enough, Rosencrantz & Guildenstern are carrying a letter from King Claudius to the King of England asking that you be put to death. The crack is, you've removed your name and added theirs to this death warrant. You'd better get things sorted pronto; if this situation is allowed to contiue it's bound to end in even more death & destruction.
There's also a poisoned chalice awaiting a victim. Oh, I almost forgot ... Laertes' sword is tipped with poison, so good luck with the fencing challenge. I pray to God that this letter arrives in time.
On a cheerier note, the weather's picking up a bit; we should get a nice day for all the funerals!
Your old school Marra,
Horatio