A Play in One Act
Recounting an Hour of My Life
Markus – the weary schoolteacher
Nature – the capricious monarch of weather
Traffic – maker of mischief and creator of consternation
Scene: a school building at the end of day – approximately 3:45 PM – deserted but for one person.
M: Finally! Everyone is gone; now I can go home, too.
N: You sound stressed. I shall send a gentle rain to wash it away and soothe your spirit.
M: That sounds great, but can you wait til I get home? I’d enjoy it more then.
N: I think that’s kind rude, but I don’t blame you. You know what you need? A pulsating massage!
M: Really, that’s quite all right. I appreciate your offer, but this isn’t the best place, you know?
N: Man, you are uptight. What you really need is a pulsating deep tissue massage.
M: You know what? I’m just going to wait here until you wear yourself out.
[fifteen minutes later]
M: That took slightly longer than expected.
T: Oh, you’re headed home? You look lonely. Let me send you some company. I’ve got some buses in the area; they’ll be sure to get you up close and personal with your fellow travelers!
M: Why can’t you just leave me alone? I just want to get home!
N: You still look stressed. Pulsating deep tissue massage!
M: You have absolutely no idea, do you?
N: Fine, I’ll take you out you ungrateful wretch!
[Markus falls on the concrete patio of his house.]
N: You look stressed. I shall send you a gentle rain to wash it away and soothe your spirit.
M: Sigh . . .
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