Saturday, June 9, 2007
Installment One
Posted by Zach in News Stories

That’s a pic for the script below. I should have mentioned it in the thing, but if you can, imagine that the Monkeys and Lion have West Indian accents. Perhaps that isn’t as important as I think it is.

Tale

NARRATOR:
If you find yourself about to inflict discomfort on a person, it is only fair to warn them first. Suppose you are running late to dinner with friends, it is considered polite to phone them so that they don’t worry. If you are riding a bicycle at the top of a hill and your brakes give out, then it is best to shout some sort of warning to the crowd below. “Brakes are out! Coming through!”

In the old days, animals were much more civilized then they are today. A snake, before eating a young hatchling, might say, “Mother Bird, I’m about to help myself to your prized offspring.” This gave Mother Bird, if she was a fair mother (which she almost always was), the opportunity to put up a bit of a fight. Rarely did this change anything, but no one can deny that it is more sporting. In a hostile place like the jungle one could, if one listened closely, hear a steady hum of conversation. “Pardon me, I have you cornered, and I’m going to shortly feast on your carcass.” or “You have run marvelously, I can barely tell that you are sick or lame. Though I admire your spunk you should know that I still plan to eat you.” And so it went. Even Lion, the Jungle King, would toss out a warning (though, this was mostly to set a good example, for we all know that if a Lion is going to eat you, he’s going to eat you and there’s nothing much to be done about it).

Those were fine days and our story takes place on such a day.

The important characters are… that weak and hungry looking Lion over there. The one coming up over the hill.

NARRATOR:
That tree full of miserable music-loving monkeys.
(Whispered to audience) They’re very nearly anarchist.

And that Bird over there… No, that one… The one flying and singing by the monkey tree.

BIRD:
I’m a bird
I’m a singing bird
A singalinging bird…

NARRATOR:
(confidentially)
Yes, I know, he is flying too close…

BIRD:
I’m a singalingalinging bird—ugh!

SFX: A sound like a ball of lettuce falling into a catchers mit.

MONKEY:
Got you!

BIRD:
(nervous)…Why, Hello monkey.

MONKEY:
What is that you were singing?

BIRD:
Just a song.

MONKEY:
Sing it.

BIRD:
It’s…

MONKEY:
It’s what?

BIRD:
It’s a flying song. It’s only meant for flying.

MONKEY:
He only sings it when he’s flyin.

MONKEY3:
Guess we’d better let him fly.

MONKEY2:
Yes. Oh yes. Let him fly.

MONKEY:
Bird. Would you like us to let you fly so that you can sing us your song?

BIRD:
(cautiously) I would be very much obliged to you.

MONKEY: (like a grandfather) Why Bird, you are trembling. Are you scared of us?

BIRD: I’m sorry. I—

MONKEY: You should be where you are most comfortable, in the air, singing your song.

NARRATOR:
With that the monkey reared back and threw poor bird very fast, straight into the trunk of the tree.

SFX: Sound like a peach being thrown into a brick.

NARRATOR:
Bird crunched against the wood and fell to a branch below with a whimper. Something wet and scarlet began to seep from his head and feathers floated down like the first stirrings of snow. Before he could process what was happening, another wretched monkey snatched him up.

MONKEY:
I didn’t hear no singing, did you?

MONKEY2:
I don’t think he sang to us. He lied.

MONKEY:
Why would he lie to us?

MONKEY2:
He don’t respect us.

NARRATOR:
The monkey tenderly caressed the bird’s wing.

MONKEY:
Should we make him respect us?

BIRD:
(frightened) I respect you. I respect all of you.

NARRATOR:
The bird gave a cry as the monkey snapped his wing the wrong way. It was just at this minute that Lion’s weary voice rumbled across the way.

LION:
I’m comin’ to eat you up. Monkeys, I’m a comin’ to eat you up. Climb down from that tree, and please bow your knee for I’m goin to eat me some monkey.

MONKEY:
It’s Lion. Everybody stay put.

End of installment one.

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