An Advice Column by Macbeth, King of Scotland, and Certified Life Coach
by Corey Pajka
Dear Macbeth,
I’m in line for a major promotion at the multinational corporation where I work. It would mark a significant pay raise, but the person who had this role before me was ousted for unethical behavior. If I take this job, I’ll be under tremendous pressure to produce, rehabilitate the image of the firm, and doing it all under the eye of the board, the chief executives, and the public. I don’t want to turn down the opportunity, but I’m not sure I can handle these expectations. Should I turn it down?
–Conflicted in Connecticut
Dear Conflicted,
Thy dilemma is reminiscent of mine own. The Thane of Cawdor didst commit an act of treason, betraying his king and allying himself with our enemies. Mine armies didst defeat his, and I unseamed him myself from the nave to the chaps. If that term is confusing, I suggest ye Google it. Trigger warning: gruesome violence. Upon my return hence, three witches didst foretell I wouldst acquire the title of Thane and take the throne from King Duncan. Their prophesies came true, and I endured no hardship or negative consequences whatsoever! Follow mine advice as an online-certified life coach: We must focus on tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow. Take thy chances, screw thy courage to the sticking place, and slaughter all who stand in thy way!
Dear Macbeth,
My father passed away a few months ago and my mother has been living with us ever since. Our kids adore my mom, but she seems to want to make this arrangement permanent. Worse yet, she’s been questioning my wife’s parenting choices and cooking awful dinners for us two or three times a week. She’s even calling me by a humiliating childhood nickname she hasn’t used since I was in elementary school. This is irritating, not to mention embarrassing, but she’s my mother and a grieving widow. What should we do?
–Repressed in Reseda
Dear Repressed,
If thy mother is not amenable to discourse, a swifter resolution is needed. When at dinner next, state “Mother, is that a carving knife I see before me, the handle toward thy hand? Come, pass it to me.” Cover her mouth with a dish towel to douse her wailing whilst the knife plunges into her repeatedly. When thou hast done the deed, enlist thy wife to frame the ladies of thy mother’s sewing circle for the offense. Thou shalt sleep no more, but at least thou canst enjoy a microwaved macaroni and cheese meal free of judgment.
Dear Macbeth,
An old friend from college has come back into my social circle. She’s a recent divorcee and has become very clingy, almost codependent. We’re seeing each other every weekend, and even a couple of times during the week too. We’ve both changed a lot since college. I want to be there for my friend, but I don’t think I can give her the help she needs. Any ideas?
–Smothered in Smithtown
Dear Smothered,
Thy nom de plume suggests an ideal solution: Recruit shady figures from unseemly corners of thy hometown and task them with slaying thy high maintenance bestie, perhaps by smothering! Wouldst that not be poetic justice? Slay her and all her forebears with prejudice most extreme. After all, I am in blood, and I am a trusted expert. I am the King of Scotland, bitch!
Dear Macbeth,
I’ve made friends with people who go to raves and they’ve introduced me to a variety of club drugs. I’m having a hard time staying awake during the day and I swear I’m seeing and hearing things that I know aren’t there. It’s like a waking nightmare and I’m worried I may have sustained brain damage. Am I losing my mind?! HELP!
–Strung Out on Staten Island
Dear Strung Out,
Fear not apparitions portending fate most ominous. What couldst come of any of them? An army of trees advancing on thy home? A man set to murder thee who was not of woman born? Enjoy the revelry of those dancing before thee and singing of thy unmaking! Oh, and call for the summary butchering of thy rivals and all perceived threats to thy dominion.
Dear Macbeth,
Hey. Asshole. Does slaughtering my entire family make you feel strong? Enjoy that BDE rush while it lasts because I’m coming for your head, bitch!
–Macduff, Motherfucker
Dear Macduff, Mother—
*sigh* I suppose this bloody business had to be done eventually. Whatever, I’ll fight ‘till from my bones my flesh be hacked! Bring me my armor! What success canst Macduff hope to have ‘gainst my forces?
Dear Macbeth,
Dude. Look out the window. Also, my mom had a c-section.
–Macduff, Dumbass
Dear Macdu—
Oh. Shit. Walking trees. Perhaps this was a column told by an idiot.
Corey Pajka is a Brooklyn, NY-based writer. His satirical work has been published by Points in Case, The Weekly Humorist, Flexx Mag, Robot Butt and The Satirist. His theatrical work has been produced regionally at theatres across the U.S. and in New York at Off and Off-Off Broadway venues. His radio plays are available to stream on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, and other outlets. He is also a climate change activist, working with 350Brooklyn. He co-edits their bi-weekly newsletter and contributes to their e-magazine Parts Per Million. He is married to another playwright, and they have a Pembroke Welsh Corgi named Sancho Panza. www.coreypajka.com