The Skinhead Hamlet By Kelly Jean Fitzsimmons You have exposed your bare bottom to the world twice in your life (so far), but the first time was by accident. It was “that time you mooned all of Shakespeare & Company” at the end of the sole summer you spent training and performing with them at The Mount, Edith Wharton’s turn-of-the-century estate in the Berkshires. The company members of this outdoor theater are legends in a world of their own making. For decades, they have lived and worked together, falling in love and marrying each other, then cheating, divorcing, and marrying different eachothers, until the plot of the place became harder to follow than any of the plays being performed on stage. An intern amongst Shakespearian Gods, you tell this story to remind yourself that you were once there. To reclaim what you missed in the moment. The story begins with a man and his dog. Actually, backing up a bit, it starts with you careening through the woods in costume behind the grand mansion the author of Ethan Frome once called home. Sliding down a steep hill, you kick up dust from beneath the heels of your thick black boots as your silvery cape swirls in the air around you. The degrees of love, pain, and beauty each of us are capable of submitting to in this world are uncertain, but you can say with absolute authority that there’s no greater glee to be found than crashing through the woods while wearing a cape.