Last night, I saw another campy gladiator movie. There was a real missed opportunity inasmuch as no character ever uttered the line “Sometimes, I really gladi-hate you.”

Last night, I had a dream, and in my dream I wrote a teen comedy set in a gladiatorial school. There was a surly North African gladiator one day away from freedom, a Spaniard with a murdered family, a one-handed Celt with something to prove, a female gladiator with a net and a trident. They learned and loved and fought together. They used their chains strategically and always raised their shields in unison against sudden arrow attacks and used their words as effectively as they used their double-headed axes. It was the Bring It On of gladiating.

These were the words of my dream:

“You’ve got to Pompeii to play, bitch.”

“Oh my God, who is that? I’d like to ride his Trojan horse, if you know what I mean.” 
“That’s Quintus. He’s the best fighter in school. Stay away from him. He’s got a Roman nose…and roaming hands.”

“I just want to be a Spartacus of something special.”

“He’s a real Herculpaineum.”

“It’s never Vesuvius anymore, it’s always Vesuviyou.”

“Save it for the chariot race, honey.”

“Are you an Etruscan? Or an Etruscan’t?”

“Go aqueduct yourself.”

“Gaul was divided in three parts, and that bitch took all of them.”

“What the Hellenism is wrong with you, asshole?”

“You let him use your sword.”
“So?”
“That’s basically having sex, for gladiators. You like him.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Don’t deny it. You had arena sex with him.”

“Please. It was totally Asia Minor; they’ll have forgotten all about it by next week.”

“God, Lucius, you’re so fucking Juvenal.”

“Looks like someone’s going to be bearing the palm alone tonight.”

“No. Appian. Way.”

“She puts the whore in Horace.”

“Here’s the deal: I’m the best. If you want to learn from the best, join my team. If you want to get speared and eaten by a bunch of Thessalonians, join somebody else’s. If getting speared and eaten is your dream, I won’t stand in your way.”

“Please. You were totally Sallusting over her.”

“Rudiarius much?”

“He puts the gin in Carthaginian, if you’re picking up what I’m putting down.”

“You’ve heard bellum omnium contra omnes? Well, this is bellum futatrices contra cunnus.”

“You fight like a barbarian.”
“Wanna find out if I screw like one, too?”

“She puts the ass in Helicarnassus.”

“I’m a real soldier, not a gladiator. I don’t prance around in circles and play dress-up.”
“Then this should be no problem for you. Follow this routine and try to keep up.”

“Forget about him, he’s a real Hasdrubal-been.”

“This is a republic, not an agreepublic. You’re overruled.”

“He’s totally hopelessmachus.”

“You got your novices, ex-centurions, your patricians, closeted Egyptians, Thracian nerds, cool Thracians, your more-Roman-than-thou jocks, unfriendly Moorish hotties, the Visigoths, the Invisigoths, Gauls who eat their feelings, Gauls who don’t eat anything, sexually active scribes, your lotus-eating Persians, and the greatest people you will ever meet.”

“We who are about to graduate salute you.”

[Image via Wikimedia Commons; special thanks to @cb_whitney for joke assistance]