The Rapidity of Transmogrification
A play in a single Act.
A man stands by a tree, looking confused at the world around him. The tree does not look confused, but wise as trees go.
Man: How many times have I come here to lay it all on the line? To unload my burdens of this life, to remove the heavy weights...
Tree: Do shut up and get on with it.
Man: Right.
Tree: And you won't urinate on me this time?
Man: No. Though I did have a large coffee from a convenience store.
Tree: If you must, then use that pine down there. Always bragging about being green all year long. Bitch.
Man: Yes, well. We've spoken many times about me not fitting in with my colleagues at work. Some people are just at a level of doing things that I just cannot possibly understand anymore. Am I so removed from the world?
Tree: Possibly. But then I am a tree, I don't exactly "get around" you know?
Man: True. Did you know that men wear pink shirts now, to work? And consider it manly?
Tree: That does seem odd, continue.
Man: They go to tanning beds, get waxed, run every morning, and talk about eating salads.
Tree: Fuck.
Man: I know.
Tree: I'm a tree and I make fun of your species that eat salads.
Man: What makes it worse is that the females seem to like these co-workers.
Tree: So the behavior is encouraged?
Man: Exactly.
Tree: Then humanity is doomed.
Man: That's it? That's your fucking advice?
Tree: Look, a society of sentient beings cannot exist when natural selection favors douchebags.
Man: Then there is no hope?
Tree: I'm sorry. If there is any consolation, you probably have some time - four or five years.
Man: What? What the fuck? That's it?
Tree: Yes. Just think of entire modern armies and nuclear weapons in the hands of guys from reality television shows.
Man: Yeah, five years is probably generous then, huh?
Tree: I didn't want to be a buzz kill. (Silent pause - 7 seconds) So look, I've got a hot date with a Linden tree later tonight. I really should be getting ready.
Man: Wait, hot?
Tree: Oh yeah, she's all over the place when the wind gets blowing hard if you know what I mean!
Man: No, I have no goddamn clue what you're talking about.
Tree: Just return to your doomed society of egocentric, BMW driving, iPad buying, pink shirt wearing, salad eating, bodybuilding, philistines please. This tree has an important night out on the town.
Man: But you're completely immobile.
Tree: Wait, why do I feel warm fluid...you son of a bitch.
Man walks away from tree and turns to face audience as lights dim.
Man: Although we've used an allegory that would make CS Lewis blush, and we owe an apology to Samuel Beckett that only a forced statement from a judge would make us issue, and we've adapted postmodern views that took real authors like Camus and Sartre thousands of pages to create, and if we can make this sentence last longer it would be the envy of James Joyce and William Faulkner fans everywhere while simultaneously causing a decrepit 290 year old English teacher to have her fourth stroke (but the first noticed by her students - end that with a preposition you old bitch). So those looking for a life lesson, a moral, a denouement, a character conflict (well, one that goes beyond urination), or any other meaningful literature device, you shall be sorely disappointed.
Man walks off stage, tune of "Wonderful World" plays. Curtain closes.
The End.
A man stands by a tree, looking confused at the world around him. The tree does not look confused, but wise as trees go.
Man: How many times have I come here to lay it all on the line? To unload my burdens of this life, to remove the heavy weights...
Tree: Do shut up and get on with it.
Man: Right.
Tree: And you won't urinate on me this time?
Man: No. Though I did have a large coffee from a convenience store.
Tree: If you must, then use that pine down there. Always bragging about being green all year long. Bitch.
Man: Yes, well. We've spoken many times about me not fitting in with my colleagues at work. Some people are just at a level of doing things that I just cannot possibly understand anymore. Am I so removed from the world?
Tree: Possibly. But then I am a tree, I don't exactly "get around" you know?
Man: True. Did you know that men wear pink shirts now, to work? And consider it manly?
Tree: That does seem odd, continue.
Man: They go to tanning beds, get waxed, run every morning, and talk about eating salads.
Tree: Fuck.
Man: I know.
Tree: I'm a tree and I make fun of your species that eat salads.
Man: What makes it worse is that the females seem to like these co-workers.
Tree: So the behavior is encouraged?
Man: Exactly.
Tree: Then humanity is doomed.
Man: That's it? That's your fucking advice?
Tree: Look, a society of sentient beings cannot exist when natural selection favors douchebags.
Man: Then there is no hope?
Tree: I'm sorry. If there is any consolation, you probably have some time - four or five years.
Man: What? What the fuck? That's it?
Tree: Yes. Just think of entire modern armies and nuclear weapons in the hands of guys from reality television shows.
Man: Yeah, five years is probably generous then, huh?
Tree: I didn't want to be a buzz kill. (Silent pause - 7 seconds) So look, I've got a hot date with a Linden tree later tonight. I really should be getting ready.
Man: Wait, hot?
Tree: Oh yeah, she's all over the place when the wind gets blowing hard if you know what I mean!
Man: No, I have no goddamn clue what you're talking about.
Tree: Just return to your doomed society of egocentric, BMW driving, iPad buying, pink shirt wearing, salad eating, bodybuilding, philistines please. This tree has an important night out on the town.
Man: But you're completely immobile.
Tree: Wait, why do I feel warm fluid...you son of a bitch.
Man walks away from tree and turns to face audience as lights dim.
Man: Although we've used an allegory that would make CS Lewis blush, and we owe an apology to Samuel Beckett that only a forced statement from a judge would make us issue, and we've adapted postmodern views that took real authors like Camus and Sartre thousands of pages to create, and if we can make this sentence last longer it would be the envy of James Joyce and William Faulkner fans everywhere while simultaneously causing a decrepit 290 year old English teacher to have her fourth stroke (but the first noticed by her students - end that with a preposition you old bitch). So those looking for a life lesson, a moral, a denouement, a character conflict (well, one that goes beyond urination), or any other meaningful literature device, you shall be sorely disappointed.
Man walks off stage, tune of "Wonderful World" plays. Curtain closes.
The End.