Seated at a small table in the corner of a coffee shop, Donld Perkasin, single father of two, was about to find himself the parent of two more.

And older man with long greying hair combed neatly and tied back in a ponytail, sits across from him, hands folded as he watched Donald read through two file folders worth of paperwork that he had brought for him. Donald fixing his glasses as he diligently read each part over.

The older man reaches toward his cup of coffee, only to find it empty, the two having been here for a while now. He looks to Donald trying to hurry him along. “You don’t have to read every word over. I’m sure skimming through it would be enough to get the information that you need.”

Donald looks up from the paperwork, the suggestion a little horrifying. “I am about to take in two children that I have never met, from a dead sister-in-law that I’d never spoken to! This is not something I can simply ‘skim’ over.” He looks back to the paperwork still unsure about it. “I still think that it has to be a mistake, why would she have wanted to have me take care of her children when we’ve never met?”

He turns to the next page starting to read it over. “Not to mention I don’t have the resources nor room to be hosting more children, I’ve barely the energy to keep up with my own. There are well over a dozen reasons this a terrible idea.”

The elder man nods his head. “You’re not being forced to do anything of course, if you don’t want to take them in as their mother requested you do then we’ll simply place them in the foster system.”

Donald quickly looks up from the paperwork “No, I couldn’t possibly do that to them! That’s not what I was implying at all!” He sighs nervously, the whole ordeal making him an anxious wreck. “You’re sure no one else in the family is willing to take them in?”

The older man shakes his head no. “The ones I was able to reach showed no interest in taking the two boys in.”

Donald puts the papers back down on the table, holding his head in his hands. “This is surreal.”

The older man motions to the empty cup in front of him. “Should I bring us more coffee?”

Donald shakes his head no. “I don’t drink coffee.”

A smirk escapes the elder man’s lips as he gets to his feet. “Ohh we’ll see how long that lasts once you’re looking after four kids now won’t we?”

Donald groans leaning back in his chair. “Please don’t jest about this. I’m already light headed over this, I don’t want to risk fainting.”

The older man leaves to stand in line at the coffee shop’s counter, Donald sitting back and getting back to reading through the papers, unable to not give his full attention to something as important as this.

This was not the first meeting he had had with this individual, but it would be one of his last for a while. The news that one of his wife’s sisters had died and left her kids to him to be taken care of had been given to him weeks ago, and since then he had been attending meetings like this, sometimes at an office, sometimes at a coffee shop or restaurant. The topic always the same, another meeting to go over the details of the situation Donald had so suddenly found himself in.

His wife had told her sister only the best things about him and how great a father he was to his kids, this something that was hard for him to believe, as that was not exactly the way she felt about him during her last few months alive. She not only questioning Donald on if he would be able to take care of their two kids on their own, but just outright not believing that he could, to the point measures were taken in preparation for that.

He finished going over the papers in this folder, closing it and picking up the next. Pausing when he opens it to find photos of the boys in question. One a boy with a serious look on his face, his long natural blonde hair tired back neatly in a ponytail. The other boy had a grin that just screamed that he was trouble, his hair short, messy and dyed an unnatural colour. The two seemed complete opposites of the other.”

“Twins.”

Donald looks up to find the older man had return to the table with their refills. “Not identical of course.” His slowly sits back in his chair, his joints giving an embarrassingly loud crack. “Ooohh I don’t like that…”

Mr. Perkasin looks back to the photos. “They must not like being called twins, it looks like they’re going out of their way to not look like the other.”

The old man laughs at the comment. “Well, how would you feel if you wanted to be taken as an individual but instead you were constantly paired up with someone you happened to be born the same time as?”

“I can’t say I relate exactly… but I suppose I can see how it would get on one’s nerves.”

“Remember, you will be receiving monthly compensation that will help you take care of them, to help make it a little easier financially.”

Donald quickly speaks up. “That’s not the issue- or yes… that’s an issue to, I need that if I’m expected to take care of them. The issue is them and how much work they will be, of how much time they’ll need from me.”

The older man gets a serious look on his face. “Look, I know you have your reservations, children are a lot of work, and these two in particular are… well, they’re a lot. But the boy’s need you, they don’t have anyone else in the family willing to take them in, and though the foster system is an option I don’t want to move them to it without at least giving this option with you a chance.”

Donald looks back to the photos of the two boys that he would be taking in. He looking to their names and reading them out to himself. “Era and Aeon…”

Andrew stands within the near empty drama room, the school counsellor with his hands on his shoulders and he presents him a small group of five students, they the notorious drama club of the school. “This is Andrew, I hope you make him fell welcome.”

The group waves back to them in a friendly manner, Andrew’s school councillor giving him a pat on the back. “Great, get to know each other, make friends, and above all else, enjoy yourself and have fun.”

Andrew grumbles at the comment. “Yeah ****ing right.”

The councillor tries to keep the smile on his face. “Andrew Perkasin. We’ve talked about this. Many, many times.”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it.”

The councillor leaves the room, once the door closes behind him drama club members excitedly start to gather around Andrew as they inspect their newly gained club member.

“We’ve never had someone so punk looking in our ring before!”

Andrew shakes his head no. “This isn’t really punk…”

“It was bound to happen at some point, being punk is a form of expression, a defiance against normality, rules and conformity. I would classify the punk style as performance art.”

Andrew again speaks up despite what he had said not getting through his head. “It’s just the hair that’s it, I still follow the school dress code because if I don’t the teachers will complain to my dad, and I don’t want them harassing him any more than they already do. That’s not punk it’s still following the rules of conformity.”

Another member of the drama cloud exclaims loudly, drowning out the voices of the others. “Welcome to our ring!”

The others all join in, following him in welcoming their new member. “Our ring is growing!”

“Each blossom that is added will make the wreath more beautiful when they grow into flowers!”

“Flowers in bloom!”

Andrew glances around him awkwardly, it difficult for him to stay in place and not run out the door of the room as fast as his feet could take him. This all just a little to weird and chaotic for him.

The drama members continue talking to one another, patting each other on the backs for friendliness and allegories. “Oh how poetic! You have given Andrew such a warm welcome, look how delighted he is!”

Andrew tries hard not shake his head no in reaction to that comment, this whole situation more embarrassing than he had thought it was going to be. He tries his best to be agreeable so that he could get through this. “Yeah… so… you know… what he said.”

One of the drama club members starts fawning over him, thinking his reaction sweet. “He is speechless.”

“He still needs work.”

“Do not be afraid to speak your mind, for an artist that cannot express himself is not an artist at all.”

“Well said my Tybalt… well said…”

“Thank you, gentle Mercutio, you are a good friend.”

Andrew glances the group over as they continue to pat themselves on the back for their word choice. “Tybalt… Mercutio…? I thought your names were Donovin and-”

One of the drama members quickly cuts him off before he could finish saying their names. “Oh no! You are mistaken! Those are our student names when we are outside of the ring. When we are in the safe bosom of the drama ring we take the names of Shakespearian characters!”

Andrew glances toward the door, it getting more inviting by the moment. “Oh… cool…”

“Yes! Cool indeed! For Shakespeare is our muse.”

“All hale the god of pen and ink!”

The bow their heads in respect. “Shakespeare….”

Andrew gets more upset with his decision the longer he stays here. “o… k…”

The drama club then start to introduce them selves by their Shakespearian names. 

“I am known as Benvolio!”

“I am Juliet!”

“I am Tybalt the slayer of Mercutio.”

“And I am Mercutio, the slain. Reborn in the mind of this aspiring young actor!”

“I am Romeo!”

Christina, aka, Benvolio excitedly looks to Andrew. “Oh Andrew! You must choose a Shakespearian name as well!”

Andrew looks around. “Oh me…?” He looks to them as they all stare at him expectantly, he thinks quickly trying to come up with something. “Macbeth?”

The club gasps in horror. “He said… it!

“The name of unmentionables!”

Mercutio grabs onto Andrew running him over to a wooden desk in the room. “Hurry you must knock twice and say the phrase “Knock on Wood” to cleans you of the curse!!”

Andrew looks to the table and then back at him. “What?”

Juliet motions for him to follow the instructions. “Just do it!!! Hurry! Your time grows ever shorter the longer thou horrid curse stays!”

Andrew lifts his hand doing as he is told, not sure of what would happen if he refused to do so. “Knock on wood?”

Everyone lets out a collective sigh of relief. “Oh, so close we were to losing the young blossom whose eyes were shown only a glimpse of the wonders of the drama world. How sad the song would be for the flower to whither before it’s time.”

Andrew questions them confused over this whole ordeal. “Why is saying Macbeth bad?”

Panic once again fills the air, and the drama club members go right back to it. “Black fate! The curse has again fallen upon our new member!”

“NO!!!! Not the name of unmentionables! Hurry! Knock on wood!”

Andrew tries to suppress a groan, spending time with people like this was going to be a challenge. “I don’t know how this is going to help me become a singer… but I will strive through it!”