If you REALLY get this, you're been in liberal arts education to long :-)
The Death of Socrates Rooster
THE DEATH OF SOCRATES' ROOSTER
.....The curtain rises.....All is darkness, except for, at Stage
Right, a pool of light in which we see a few sobbing Ancient
Greeks. We can tell who they are from their togas, their sandals,
their laurel wreaths and the baklava crumbs in their beards. They are
Phaedo, Crito, Apollodorus, Simmias and Cebes, looking like the losing
team of a choose-up b-ball game at the Southside Athens Y. The
semi-circle they have formed parts, and we see they are standing over
Socrates, who is on a hard cot, looking wise but a tad busy dying at
the moment. The men lean in to listen to the words of their
philosopher-friend.
SOCRATES
Crito, I owe a cock to Asclepius; will you remember to pay the
debt?
CRITO
The debt shall be paid, Socrates. Is there anything else?
Socrates? (He shakes him) Socrates? Socko?!
But Socrates is dead. The men sob some more, all but Crito, who has a
mission.
The stage goes dark. Then the lights go on to reveal, Stage Left, the
inside of a chicken coop, a number of hens laying eggs and a group of
roosters in very much the same pose as Socrates' friends. Their
semi-circle parts to reveal, at its center, Socrates' rooster,
Alvy. He is thin, wears glasses, is slightly balding at the top, and
speaks hurriedly, periodically hyperventilating, with a Brooklyn
accent. Alvy is a tad busy quickly and nervously stuffing items into
an overnight bag.
CHICKEN ONE
Take it easy, Alvy. It can't be as bad as it looks.
ALVY
This is not what I had in mind at all for the rest of my life. When
they sent around that employment questionaire and asked "Where do you
want to be five years from now?" I distinctly remember I did not write
down the word "broth." I mean, look at me -- I'm healthy, I'm
good-looking, I'm virile ...(A few chuckles from the hens in the
background) Okay, okay, virile is questionable ... but, then,
remember, this is Greece, folks ... and you know these guys ... bend
over to pick up a javelin and ... I've got a lot to live for. I do
not see any future in being an ingredient. I mean, maybe that's just
me ...
CHICKEN TWO
You have to have faith, Alvy. The gods did not select you without any reason.
ALVY
The gods? Oh, yes. Good. The gods. Those large men who nobody sees who
live alone up on a mountain and change shape so they can impregnate
innocent women, send people to the underworld on a whim, loose
calamity on the planet, and tie people down so their livers can be
pecked at by a raven for all eternity because the guy wanted a
light. Yes, these are admirable creatures of excellent judgment, moral
fiber and health habits -- I hear they floss after every ravish-- and
I don't know why I should be concerned when it comes to their
decisions about my life ...
He packs even faster now, just shoving things in the bag.
ALVY (cont'd)
And Socrates ... my good, good friend Socrates ... after all I did for
him ... We had a lot of laughs,shared good times, and on his deathbed,
the guy's dying, he's got like maybe three-and-a-half breaths left to
him, you'd think maybe he'd want to say something important, for the
ages, but instead he says, "Crito, I'm down to, like maybe,
one-and-a-third breaths already, and with all the possible things I
could say or wish or think, of all of these, with my last
seven-eighths of a breath, please, kill my chicken." Am I missing the
point here? Does this not seem a little petty? A tad less than
generous? Does this seem unworthy of the guy or what? Is there a
hidden agenda I don't know about? And after all those years of all
those damned questions he'd ask me when I'd ask him a question ... Is
this what life is all about: fate and soup and getting questions to
your questions? Chicken feed that's really terrible -- and such small
portions? What a miserable life, and it's all over much too quickly.
CHICKEN THREE
Well, maybe Plato ...
ALVY
What -- maybe Plato can help me? Plato, my hero. Socrates is
dying. Where's Plato? Ill. Can't make it. Probably busy having one of
those intense relationships of his where nothing happens. Where's the
hens laughing now? Great, Plato. Goes around telling people that life
is just a shadow on a cave wall. You think anybody takes that clown
seriously? What a disaster! I'll amount to more than him, and you're
looking at the future site of hash.
CHICKEN FOUR
Maybe Asclepius will be an okay guy ...
At that moment Asclepius enters, Stage Right. He is a big, gross slob
-- pot belly, a laurel wreath with beer cans in it, a torn, greasy
t-shirt that reads "Acropolis Pizza -- Official Sponsor of the First
Olympic Games." He's picking his teeth, and lets out a gigantic burp.
ASCLEPIUS
So, where's dinner?
All the chickens unhesitatingly point at Alvy. Asclepius grabs for
him; Alvy keeps avoiding his grasp.
ALVY
Now, wait. Let's discuss this, man to poultry. You don't want me. My
father was a slave rooster in Ethiopia -- I'm all dark meat, what
there is of me -- I've been on Jennie Craig ... Crito misunderstood:
Socrates said he owed you a clock, a clock, not a ... uh, the sundial
out back, I'll help you load it into the chariot. You know,
meat-eating isn't good for you ... clogs the humors ... you need a
humors bypass ... How about a final cigarette? Considering they won't
be invented for another 18 centuries, that ought to buy me some time
... (Asclepius grabs him) Some day there'll be animal rights
legislation, and won't you feel silly ...
ASCLEPIUS
Come on, you.
ALVY
(to one of the chickens)
Did you hear that, Max? I distinctly heard it. He muttered under his
breath, "Jew." He was holding me and he said, "Come on, Jew." Not
"Come on, you," but "Come on, Jew." "Jew," he said.
Asclepius has dragged him nearly off stage now.
ALVY (cont'd)
Life is like an egg, you know? It has to constantly keep its shell
hard or it cracks. And I think what we got on our hands is a broken
egg.
Exits. The lights go out. Then, as at the beginning, we see, in a pool
of light, Stage Right, the semi-circle of Ancient Greeks with Socrates
at the center. They begin to replay the opening scene exactly as
before.
SOCRATES
Crito, I ...
At that moment, Alvy steps from behind the group and hits Socrates
over the head with a sock full of manure.
ALVY (directly to audience)
Boy, if life were only like this!
