Dear Fluffystuff,

Since our production of Jellybean’s Nutcracker last Friday was such a success, we decided to proceed with our performance of King Lear. Sadly, we have encountered an insurmountable setback, and I’m afraid our performance is postponed indefinitely. I will require your assistance regarding this grave and unexpected problem, which is why I will attempt to explain our misfortune at length.

Our rehearsal began well enough, and I had a feeling that Lear might be an even greater success than Nutcracker. I began by exercising my artistic license to implement a few improvements. My first improvement was to alter the name of the play from King Lear to King Jear (what kind of name is Lear, anyway?) Jear has such a nice ring to it, not to mention that my royal cape costume already had a J embroidered on it. Easy enough.

My second improvement was to make several small yet vital changes to the story. You see, we had to make some assumptions to begin with; King Lear looks to be very long and very boring, so we thought we’d give it a go without wasting all that time reading. Truly, every time we attempted reading even the title page, we all fell into a stupor! And I must express my personal opinion: I am not impressed with this Shakespeare character and his blathering scribbles. He ought to spend some time reading quality literature, such as my Nancy Drew mysteries. I would happily lend him a few! Nothing shameful in learning from the best, I say.

We knew that this Mr. Shakespeare falls back on the same tired characters and plot devices in all of his stories, so we chose a few of the most typical to feature: ladies in distress, balconies, evil potions, court jesters, and oddly enough, breakfast foods. One of his most popular stories is called Hamlet, but I am positive (and my brothers agree) that he must have meant Omelet (Nancy Drew would never tolerate such sloppiness.) Perhaps he was hungry for eggs and ham, and he didn’t proofread?

Thus began our rehearsal: Sneakers would play the Fried Egg, Cocobean would play the Lady in Distress on a Balcony, Braesnut the Court Jester, Scampers the Brewer of Evil Potions, and I, of course, would play the great Jear. But then – oh Fluffystuff, what a shock we all had! You see, my beautiful girlfriend Cordelia had volunteered to read the dull and lengthy King Lear in its original form to help us in our efforts, and you will not believe what she found: her own name, Cordelia, listed as a main character.

Fluffystuff, I knew that Mr. Shakespeare was a shameless composer of meaningless drivel, but I never imagined he would stoop to committing fraud and identity theft rather than dream up some new characters. Now I must ask for your assistance: since both you and Mr. Shakespeare live in England, might you look into hiring a detective to discover why he stole my Cordelia’s identity for his silly story? If you’d like to borrow one of my Nancy Drew mysteries for inspiration, just say the word. Cordelia is furious and will not rest until the thief is punished!

Fondly,

Jellybean