Scene: PFJ Headquarters, pre-mission briefing.
REG: (lecturing) Right, so we’re going to strike fear into the Romans with our message: Romanes eunt domus. That means, “Romans go home.” It’s proper Latin. Powerful. Poetic.
STAN: (timid) I thought it was Romani ite domum.
REG: (glaring) Oh, did you? You thought? Are you a Latin scholar now, Stan?
STAN: (shrinking) No, I just... read it in a book.
REG: Well, books are bourgeois propaganda, Stan! This is about action, not academics! Now, everyone repeat after me: Romanes eunt domus!
(The group echoes it, uncertainly.)
LORETTA: It doesn’t quite sound right—
REG: (cutting her off) Enough! The Romans will be quaking in their sandals!
Scene: A quiet Jerusalem night. The PFJ hands over a brush and bucket of red paint to the Costanza family.
REG: (stern) Now, remember, it’s Romanes eunt domus. Not Romani ite domum. Got it?
GEORGE: (already sweating) Sure, sure, we’ve got it. Latin, painting, walls—it’s simple.
ESTELLE: (indignant) Who put you in charge? You’re telling me how to paint a wall? I’ve been scrubbing graffiti off bathroom tiles since before you were born!
FRANK: (angry) I know Latin! I invented Latin! Don’t lecture me on Latin grammar! Romanes this, Domus that—I’ll paint whatever the hell I want!
BRIAN (whispering to Reg): Are you sure about this? They seem... combative.
REG: It’s either them or the giggling maidens. (grimacing) And I’m not explaining Latin grammar to them.
Scene: Alleyway. Frank and Estelle argue about wall selection.
FRANK: This wall is perfect! Prime location, plenty of foot traffic. Everyone will see it.
ESTELLE: It’s not perfect. It’s too rough! The paint will drip, Frank. Drip! We’ll look like amateurs.
GEORGE: (panicked) Could we just pick a wall before a centurion comes by and arrests us? I don’t do well in chains!
FRANK: (yelling) You’d have lasted five minutes in a Roman prison! Five minutes! Back in my day—
Scene: Painting begins. Chaos ensues.
ESTELLE: Frank, you’re spelling it wrong! It’s Romanes! Not Romenas!
FRANK: Don’t tell me how to spell! You’re lucky I’m doing this at all. My back is killing me!
GEORGE: (hyperventilating) Can we focus? We need to finish before we get caught!
A Roman patrol marches by in the background. They pause, puzzled by the shouting, but move on, deciding they’ve got bigger issues to handle.
Scene: Morning. The PFJ surveys the damage.
REG: (surveying the disaster) By the gods, this is your fault, Frank!
FRANK: My fault? You gave us the bloody phrase! It’s gibberish!
REG: It’s correct! I checked it myself!
BRIAN: (hesitant) Actually, it means something like... “People called Romanes, they go the house.”
REG: (turning red) Well, that’s just semantics. The Romans will still get the message!
ESTELLE: (snorting) Oh, they’ll get a message all right: “We’re idiots!”
REG: (gritting teeth) You’ve disgraced the rebellion. You’re out!
GEORGE: (desperate) Can we still get the resistance discount on hummus?
