Below is an excerpt from the novel I'm currently working on, and it's my way of backing out on writing an entire Tybalt post. I wish I could say that the Tybalt theory was mine, but it belongs to my sister Mary, who is playing Tybalt in our production. She did a lot of thinking about the character that she portrayed. Sometimes, as my character Renee figures out here, a sister can make you see things in a crazily brilliant new light.
My eyes snapped open behind the cup of coffee I'd poured myself. "Tybalt didn't let anyone kill him," I said. "It was a freak accident.""Or so he wanted everyone to think," said Elizabeth. "He set out to destroy Romeo. Tear him down any way he could. As soon as he said that line about willful choler and bitterest gall, everyone in the audience knew he was going to get that guy. He was completely insane. And he was a champion swordfighter. Do you really think he'd just die at Romeo's hands like that? No. It was contemplated. He killed Mercutio without really meaning to and ran off, but then he realized something. If he could get Romeo to kill him, he would die a hero, and Romeo would be banished or executed, and bring shame down on the Montagues either way. Tybalt turned that entire play from a romantic comedy to the greatest suicide story of all time, but it was his suicide that brought it on. It had to have been. Otherwise why would he have just randomly come running back? Why would he have gotten killed by someone he'd sworn revenge against, a lovesick whiner who couldn't have cared less about fighting anyone?"
My coffee was starting to cool in its cup, but I couldn't drink yet, not after that. "Wow," I said. "Where did you read that?"
"I didn't read it anywhere," said Elizabeth. "Common sense."
"And what kind of grade did you get?"
"They never assigned me that play," said Elizabeth. "Lucky you."
--Gua Gua
Mary, only you could play Tybalt, because only you have a mind that can compare with his. I hope you get lots of applause, Princess of Cats. ;)
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