Last weekend, Candace, Will and I visited my mother. And, while I was there, I realized I was very tired. Granted, I had not slept well the night before, but it suddenly occurred to me that I am often tired when I visit my mother. Then, on the way home, it also occurred to me that I often feel tired when Candace and I visit her father or mother. I brought this up to Candace. I asked her if she thought I had some kind of problem. “Have I developed a mental association with our parents…some self-imposed Pavlovian condition…is it my way of checking out around them?” Candace, defending me from myself, offered another perspective – “maybe you just relax when you visit our parents. You know, kind of like going back to your childhood home. You don’t have any obligations or chores like at home. You chill.”

Good, I thought. Then I realized that our eight month old son often seems tired. He certainly sleeps a lot – three solid naps a day and he snoozes through most of the night. He can barely keep his eyes open after two hours around us. Then I thought about all of the other parents that I know. And, you know what? Their babies sleep a lot, too. And when we get together with these parents all we talk about is how tired we are.

I am beginning to suspect that its not babies that make parents exhausted…its themselves. It is us.

If my supposition is true, parents are a sedative, even to themselves. We (or at least I) get sleepy around our parents, our children get sleepy around us, and we get sleepy around other parents. In fact, for the last eight months all I’ve talked about is how tired or not tired I am (usually the former). My daily condition is based on this. But, I’ve been eyeballing the wrong culprit. It is not Will. It is myself.

I wonder if babies were left to their own devices if they would stay up all day like a “normal” human being. Maybe that’s the way it should be. We let the babies hang-out and play with each other all day, while we parents hang-out with ourselves and breath in the sweet sedative that is us. Then we could all curl up on the floor, like in kindergarten (maybe they used to keep a stash of parents in the closet so we’d get tired at “nap-time”). It certainly would be nice to give into the red-eyed junky-demon that is exhaustion sometimes.

The more I think about it, the more this makes some kind of wicked sense. All of my older friends who suffer from insomnia either don’t have children or their children have grown up and moved on. Perhaps the sedative-effect only occurs while you are actually parenting.

You know, I could rent out parents to insomniacs. I could set up sleep clinics where those who suffer from sleep disorders are administered three or four parents a night until they can return to restful nights or sleep. Or I could even create a Parent Channel that features a line of parents jumping over a fence like sheep to help those who need a little assistance to drift off. Yeah, that’s it.

Besides, who likes warm milk anyway.

(Originally published on April 25th, 2005)

Erwin loved the cat that Niels had given him. Such a lovely cat. He would play records for his cat while he thought and studied deep into the night, and his cat would gently rub against his leg.

•
When Orpheus laid his eyes upon Eurydice, all else fell away. Though the nuptials were doomed, his fair lyre still sung out the most beauteous chords, so that even the Gods were said to stop and listen.
•
As Erwin sat at his desk, his eyes and mind became crowded with infinite possibilities. With all of the seemingly impossible theories, though belonging strictly to the realm of Science Fiction, nevertheless held up under the heaviest of tests. But how could he explain it? Even now he could hear the pounding on his door. They had come to take his precious ideas away. He stroked his cat silently and waited.
•
The shepherd Aristæus too, loved fair Eurydice, and sought to steal her away. One afternoon he pursued her, and Eurydice, not watching where she was running, stepped upon a snake which bit her foot; quickly seeping poison. When she died, her body was removed to the realm of the dead.
•
Erwin constructed an ingenious box to explain his theory. He sealed his one true friend, his cat, inside it so that it could not be seen. To the box, he affixed a device which had an equal, but random chance, of delivering either food or poison to the cat.
•
Orpheus descended into Tænarus and found himself in the Stygian realm. He played a song on his lyre so sad that the Gods wept, and Pluto himself allowed Orpheus to take Eurydice out of the realm of the dead on one condition; that the entire way back to the realm of light he could not look back to see if Eurydice was following him or she would be lost to him forever.
•
“The cat,” Erwin explained to Niels, motioning to the sealed box, “exists in a dual state right now. It is neither alive nor dead. It is, in fact, both alive and dead. Both possibilities. It is the Observer who changes things. The world of observation is a world of either/or. I cannot lose my cat this way. You see, Niels? I cannot lose my one friend this way.”

Niels glanced at the dark box, then back up to Erwin.

•
For days Orpheus walked through the lands of the dead, constantly fighting the urge to look back at his one true love. “Not until I see the light,” he told himself. But he could not hear her, could not even sense her presence, for Eurydice was in a state of superposition; but how could he accept that? If he could not see her, could not hear her, how could anyone accept that? She may be there, she may not. In point of fact, she was both.
•
Erwin, left alone in his room, stared at the thick, silent box. Tears welled in his eyes. He had to believe.
•
As Orpheus neared the light, he found he could not bear it any longer. Weeks had passed and yet there was no sign that Eurydice had even taken a single step. Nothing was granted him. He was convinced this was a cruel joke of the Gods. To make him leave their underworld, alone. With tears in his eyes, he glanced back. There stood Eurydice. Silent. Already turning to mist. The only one he had ever loved became emptiness as he reached out in vain to grab her fading form.
•
If the New Physics is a science of infinite, simultaneous possibilities; it was something Orpheus knew nothing of. In a moment of weakness he had dared to look.

Erwin Schrödinger, in his moment of weakness, chose not to.

(Originally published on November 21st, 2009)

1. A chemical microbiologist, a pathologist and a clown are flying in a small commuter plane between Kansas City and Omaha. Halfway there, the plane bursts into flames and the pilot bails out. The passengers discover there are only two parachutes. Which one dies?

2. 1,4-dihydro-2,6-dimethyl-4-(2-nitrophenyl)-3,5-pyridinedicarboxylic acid dimethyl ester walks into a bar. On the stools next to it are a leprechaun, a unicorn, and Santa Claus. The bartender has a keg of Guinness, a bag of oats, and a plate of cookies behind the counter. He says to the newcomer, “These three regulars beside you are mean bastards if you screw up their orders – the unicorn will gore you, the leprechaun will steal your soul and Santa Claus will eat your children. Now, I’ve got to step out for a few minutes to make a phone call and I need somebody to watch the bar. $20 says I come back to find you a broken, childless, soulless man.”

1,4-dihydro-2,6-dimethyl-4-(2-nitrophenyl)-3,5-pyridinedicarboxylic acid dimethyl ester is always up for a bet and agrees. When the bartender returns, he finds all three of his regulars dead on the floor. Aghast, the barman asks 1,4-dihydro-2,6-dimethyl-4-(2-nitrophenyl)-3,5-pyridinedicarboxylic acid dimethyl ester what happened. It replies:

3. Why did the prion get fired from its job at the steel mill?

4. The lac operon is trapped in a room without windows or doors. The walls, the ceiling and the floor are made of steel three feet thick. All it has are a deck of playing cards, a pound of walnuts and a pair of swimming goggles. It can escape three different ways. What are they?

(Originally published on November 20th, 2005)

For all the movement it was making, it was very silent. For all the movement around it, it was still very silent. At six stories tall, it was, like most New Yorkers, very slender. No longer green, one immediately knows this one has been around the block for many years. When my mother met my father, across the seas, it was here. When the Empire State Building was the tallest of its kind, it was here. When I had my coffee this morning, it was, still, here.

When the jackhammers were going in the pre dawn hours today, it shed a few. When the man in the hardhat leaned against it to eat his sandwich in peace, it shed a few more. Every time one sheds a few, like this one, they bare just a little more. In a place where exposing oneself is deemed a weakness, it’s rare to see such unapologetic yet silent display of openness.

In a city where everyone is racing to find their place and their purpose, in a world where all things struggle to define themselves, it has in its lack of efforts, found it.

Maybe it knows. Maybe it’s sad. Mayhaps it laughs. Or maybe it knows that in a few months it will only be what was there before the tall building took its place. But my tree is still silent.

(Originally published on November 15th, 2005)

The Scantron 8950 (A.K.A. “Lil’ Helper”). Attention, teachers! How many times have you arrived at the scantron machine with your stack of answer sheets and realized that you forgot to fill out the answer key? And where is your pencil? Hang on, because help is on the way. The 8900 may not help you remember to fill out your answer keys, but with its elegant pencil holder and built in pencil sharpener, you’ll be able to remedy that in no time.

The Scantron 9000 (A.K.A. “The Compassionate One.”). Attention, teachers! How many times have you looked out at your tired, burdened class and felt it wrong to judge them based on categories like correct and incorrect? There is another way. With the Scantron 9000, you can feed the answer sheets through and expect that no one will get under a ninety percent. While the Scantron 9000 makes the loud whirring and beeping noises you have come to expect from Scantron products, it doesn’t rely on pre-critical ideas of ‘right’ and ‘wrong.’ It leaves a few marks on the answer sheet and assigns a grade that will make your student’s day.

The Scantron 9100 (A.K.A.“The Teacher’s Assistant”) Attention, teachers! How many times have you wanted your very own assistant.to help you with your lectures? The 9100 is here to cut that lecture prep in half. Enter in your multiple choice questions or true/false – then sit back. Suppose you enter in the following scantron compatible question and answer:

Q: “Aristotle was the student of Plato”
A: True

The 9100 returns, “Good morning class. I would like to take as my theme Plato. The question is did he have a student? If so, who? Aristotle was the student of Plato. This is true. It is not a statement with any sense of falseness. Modern philosophers do not deny that Aristotle was the student of Plato. “Nobody was the student of Plato” is not true. It is false. What is true is that Aristotle was the student of Plato. Thank you. I look forward to the lectures that follow.”

The Scantron 10000 (A.K.A. “The Eliminator”) Attention, college boards! How many times have you had to waste precious time dealing with a student requesting a grade change? Consider that problem eliminated with your purchase of the Scantron 10000. When teacher student relationships are harmonious, you will find this model to be the smoothest of our Scantron machines. But when the a student complaint arises, stand back as the 10000 unit unfolds into a 6’5” fully functional Dean.

The Dean is as precise as you have come to expect from Scantron technologies. True or False, A or B. The Dean has no time for your ambiguities, nuances or grey area. The Dean will deliver justice. Is the student at fault? Was the paper in fact demonstrably plagiarized or the product of collusion? Then the Dean will issue a pink slip, which reprimands the student. Is the teacher at fault? The Dean will behead the teacher or take whatever actions deemed appropriate by your college’s board.

And finally, be sure to look for our Scantron 20000 in years to come: It will of course combine the Scantron’s 10000’s administrative abilities with mad teaching skills.

(Originally published on November 14th, 2005)

I didn’t win the Nobel Prize in Physics again this year. What’s a guy got to do to win that thing? I was made to win that prize, but for like the umpteenth time in a row I’ve been given the shaft. Annoying! Who cares if I’m not a physixcist or however you spell it? I’ve been doing lots of cool physics-type stuff forever and deserve some recognition and money.

Since a teenager I’ve done this kick-ass trick where I put a quarter in each of the palms of my hands and then I quickly slam my hands down against a tabletop. When I lift my hands I reveal that one of the quarters has magically moved from one hand to the other. SHAZAM! It’s kind of hard to explain in writing, but basically when I slam my hands down I quickly flip one quarter into to my other hand. I do this so fast that nobody can see the quarter change hands. It’s awesome.

So, you see what I mean? That trick has “Nobel Prize in Physics” written all over it. I’ve been doing it for close to twenty years now. A guy from high school taught me the trick during a down time in chemistry class. He shouldn’t win the Nobel Prize in Physics, though. I should. He’s a jerk. At least he was. Haven’t seen him in a while. Last time I did we got into a big argument over VH1. I love VH1. He doesn’t. What a jerk.

Anyway, screw that guy. I do the trick better than him, anyhow. People love it. My trick makes people happy, especially four-year-olds. My son marvels at it every time. He thinks I’m awesome. If there was a Nobel Prize in Dad I’d win that every year. My other son doesn’t like my quarter trick as much, but he’s only two and can’t fully appreciate it. He’s always takes the quarters out of my hands and pretends they’re airplanes. Annoying!

My quarter trick isn’t the only cool physics-type trick I do. I can crack an egg with one hand and hardly have any of it spill on the kitchen counter. Yep, pretty much the entire egg goes right into the bowl. It’s awesome. All with one hand, too. With my other hand I often pump my fist because I did the trick really well. Sir Isaac Hayes probably did the same thing when that apple fell on his head.

I also have an uncanny ability to find the remote control when it’s lost. It’s like I always know exactly where to look. Just last week the remote was missing and my whole family was a wreck. I saved the day by looking under the couch cushions and–SHAZAM! There it was! It was like I knew it was there all along. Kind of spooky. I guess that’s more of an example of how I am a psychic and not a physickcyst or however you spell it, but whatever, you get my point: I’m really talented and awesome and I should be swimming in Nobel Prizes.

Oddly enough, the guy who won the Nobel Prize in Physics this year lives in the same town as me. He’s like 80. I drive by his house all the time. Not sure what the big deal about him is. He’s got an okay lawn, but his shrubs suck. My shrubs are way better than his. I have half a mind to knock on his door and show him my quarter trick. The few old people I’ve shown it to have liked the trick a lot. Bet he’d feel real bad about winning the Nobel Prize in Physics after seeing me work my magic. I wonder if he likes VH1?

At any rate, I rest my case. May this essay serve as a wake up call to the Nobel people. Here’s hoping when they give their prize in Physics next year, my name, Christopher Monks, will be on it engraved in big blinged-out lettering. I can’t wait! SHAZAM!

(Originally published on November 9th, 2005)

Imagine you’re at Starbucks. You’re halfway through a co-worker’s order (“half sweet, no foam, saffron-scented, opium-spritzed, …”) when two men wearing coveralls come in. You hear them talking about a car they’re fixing. Their garb has grease on it, various stains of indeterminate origin. They saunter up to the till, place their orders, and get their drinks before you because the trainee taking care of your order is running to the Starbucks across the street to find more panda blood for your co-worker’s beverage. Tapping your foot impatiently, you notice that the two guys in coveralls have parked themselves in what was your favorite spot, but now is a seat that you will avoid like the plague given that there will undoubtedly be oil stains on the cushion.

Okay – now replace this scenario with health care workers wearing their scrubs or lab coats out in public.

What the hell are these people thinking?

I am loath to be the high horse guy because I’ve cut corners too. I can be sloppy as Joe. But this is just so incredibly thoughtless that it just screams to be railed against. God only knows what kind of work these people do. Can you imagine if someone from a level 3 lab was pulling this stunt? I would hope that people working with that level would have more sense – and it’s likely that they do – but we can’t know for sure when we see that white coat out in public, can we? I mentioned that grease stains would make me avoid a befouled seat like the plague. In the case of the public lab coaters who take up residence in my coffee shop, I might be avoiding those seats so I won’t catch the Plague.

“Why would people do this?” I ask myself. (I actually have time to contemplate this while I’m still at Starbucks: even though the trainee did find some panda blood, that Love Potion Number 9 is proving hard to- track down.) My current theory is status. People wear the lab coat out of the lab because it says “I am important”. The whole thing smacks of the fresh new doctor who actually comes to a research lecture with his or her stethoscope draped over their shoulders, as if to say: “Yes, I am a doctor. I have the ability to SAVE LIVES. I have ANSWERS. I have come directly from a patient’s bedside to nod thoughtfully while this person discusses their data.”

Dude, as long you washed your hands and you shut off your pager, we won’t point and snicker.

I wonder if someone would suggest that lab coats are not removed because of time constraints. I will grant you that people might have to zip between two spots – say the clinic and the lab – and maybe there simply isn’t time to switch the coat. Okay. The coat might even be their only lab coat and they need it in two different locations. Fine. I’d even accept that it was really cold outside and the lab coat was kept on simply to stave off the elements while running from building to building.

But on a coffee break? Are you serious?

What ultimately slays me is that the cafeteria area back at the lab or hospital where the offending lab coater comes from almost certainly has a “no lab coats” policy. That means that the lab coater abides by a code that says that white coats may not be worn at the point of snack consumption, but that they may be worn at the point of snack purchase.

Don’t shit where you eat, but feel free to shit at the grocer’s.

What a wonderful piece of non-lunacy.

Anyways, here’s my advice: if you see someone wearing a lab coat or scrubs at a coffee shop and it pisses you off, ask them what kind of work they do. Act really interested. Let them tell you what kind of dreaded disease they are about to cure or what kind of dangerous samples they bravely handle each day.

Then ask them what sort of protection is required to do those experiments or interact with those particular patients.

The ensuing uncomfortableness will help you forget that the trainee spilled your co-worker’s drink on his boss and that it’ll be nightfall before you get back to work.

(Originally published on November 6th, 2005)

Jack and Jill went up the hill.
To fetch a pail of water.
Jack fell down and broke his crown.
And Jill came tumbling after.

First of all, we are not sure there’s enough clarity in this text. Scientific literature, in particular, should leave little room for confusion. Where exactly did Jack fall down? Into the well? A little ways down the hill? All the way down the hill? It’s just too vague. Worst still, we’re not convinced that the science conducted is of high enough caliber. I mean really, who would be stupid enough to put a well on the top of a hill? In conclusion, we feel that this manuscript should be rejected in its current state, but are not opposed to viewing a revised version in the near future.

—

Twinkle twinkle little star.
How I wonder what you are.
Up above the sky so high.
Like a diamond in the sky.
Twinkle twinkle little star.
How I wonder what you are.

Initially, we were quite intrigued by your work, especially since it appeared to contain several elements that merit genuine excitement. However, it was then brought to our attention that this body of work had remarkable similarities to a previously published report (The Alphabet Song). It was upon further investigation, that our worst fear was confirmed to be true – that this manuscript constitutes an act of plagiarism. We must state that we feel this to be a serious breach of scientific ethics, and must therefore strongly decline your manuscript.

—

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall.
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.
All the King’s horses and all the King’s men.
Couldn’t put Humpty together again.

Although otherwise promising, the reviewers felt that the research in its current state is incomplete. Quite frankly, it was agreed that your principle subject needed to be put back together again. Several of the reviewers suggested courting the expertise of a mathematician who could perhaps create an appropriate algorithm to solve this problem. Alternatively, one reviewer suggested glue. As a final note, questions were also raised regarding the treatment and well being of Mr. Dumpty. Why exactly was he made to sit on the wall? And why exactly would you allow horses (of all things) to put him together again. No matter, the reviewers overall impression was that if you were able to address each and every one of these issues, they would see no problem entertaining a revised version.

—

Hey diddle diddle, the cat and the fiddle.
The cow jumped over the moon.
The little dog laughed, to see such a sight.
And the dish ran away with the spoon.

The reviewers felt that not enough data was presented to support your claims. For example – how many times did your group observe the cow jumping over the moon? From the text and supporting figures, it would appear that you base this conclusion on one data point as no calculations regarding standard deviations were presented. As an analytical journal of high repute, the reviewers felt that this is simply not acceptable. In addition, several of the reviewers felt that the word ‘diddle’ was inappropriate, and should have been replaced by the more scientifically correct, ‘Hey fornicate fornicate.” Because of these, and other problems, we are sorry to inform you that your manuscript has not been accepted for publication.

—

Rub a dub dub, three men in a tub.
And who do you think they’d be?
The butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker.
Turn’em out, knaves all three.

Thank you most kindly for allowing us to see this marvelous manuscript. We feel that it is a great privilege that you and your colleagues decided to submit it to our journal. We truly feel that it represents seminal work that could even one day lead to a Nobel prize. To be frank, we were quite surprised to receive your submission, in that we all felt it could have easily been accepted by the more high profile publications (The Nature and Science journals for instance). In any event, we are very pleased to inform you that, we, the reviewers are unanimous in our decision to accept your manuscript.

(Originally published on August 22nd, 2005)

The recent popularity of math and science based plays and movies, such as “Proof”, “A Beautiful Mind”, and “Copenhagen”, has catalyzed the recovery of lost plays from famous mathematicians and scientists themselves. Below is the complete text of “To Teach the Calculus,” which was recently “recovered” from the notebooks of Max Planck. After winning his Nobel Prize in 1918 for work in radiation physics, Planck explored a variety of other fields. This is his only known foray into the theater. Planck had a reputation as a difficult and demanding teacher among the students at the University of Berlin, and several science historians have suggested that this tension is reflected in his play. Planck dedicated the third act of his play, via a marginal, handwritten notation, to his young friend Erwin Schrodinger, the father of Quantum Mechanics. Upon Planck’s retirement, Schrodinger was selected to succeed him as the Chair of Theoretical Physics at the University of Berlin. The translated text of “To Teach the Calculus”, which appears here, is currently under option to Miramax.

- – -

Act 1. Differential Calculus.

(A classroom, modern day.)

Teacher: Okay, say you were driving in a car.

A moron: You were driving in a car.

Teacher: Okay, that’s fine too, it can be me. So, I’m driving in a car, and that car is going a certain speed, let’s say two miles per hour.

A moron: Two miles per hour.

Teacher: Yes, that’s right. Now, two miles per hour is a velocity. It’s a rate of change, which is an expression of a differential equation: the change in distance, with respect to the change in time. The car’s speedometer is actually solving a differential equation for you.

A moron: Two miles per hour.

Teacher: Yes, that’s right, two miles an hour is the value of the differential at that moment. If distance is capital “D”, and time is “t”, then we would denote the differential as “dD/dt”, where the little d’s here mean “change”.

A moron: Dee-dee.

Teacher: Yes, dD is the change in distance, dt is the change in time, so, dD/dt is the change in distance with respect to time.

A moron: Dee-dee. Dee-dee, dee-dee, dee-dee.

Teacher: No, it’s dD/dt! dD/dt!

A moron: Dee-dee-dee-Tee! Dee-dee-dee-Tee. Dee-dee-dee-Tee. Dee-dee-dee-Tee.

Teacher: Yes, that’s it! dD/dt! dD/dt! dD/dt! dD/dt!

(They sing “dD/dt” together for several moments, sometimes simultaneously, sometimes alternating, as the lights slowly fade).

- – -

Act 2. Integral Calculus.

(The same classroom, later that same day. As the curtain rises, the teacher is relaxing at the desk and is smoking a cigarette.)

Teacher: (Rising, and extinguishing the cigarette.) Now we’re going to talk about another form of calculus. While differential calculus is an expression of dynamic processes, integral calculus is an expression of summation. You can almost think of it as an advanced form of addition.

A moron: Dee-dee-dee-Tee. Dee-dee-dee-Tee. Dee-dee-dee-Tee.

Teacher: No, we’re not talking about differentials now, we’re talking about integrals.

A moron: Dee-dee-dee-Tee. Dee-dee-dee-Tee. Dee-dee-dee-Tee.

Teacher: Okay, you have to stop that and listen now. Okay? Now, imagine that you have a glass of water.

A moron: Can I?

Teacher: I’m sure you can, just think of a glass of water.

A moron: I want a glass of water.

Teacher: Well, can’t you just imagine one, just for the moment?

A moron: I want a glass of water.

Teacher: Okay, fine, just a moment. (The teacher exits. While the teacher is offstage, the moron gags repeatedly, as if choking on a hairball. The lights slowly fade.)

- – -

Act 3. The birth of Quantum Simultaneity.

(The same classroom, a few moments later. The moron is silent.)

Teacher: (Already on stage when the curtain rises, holding a glass of water.) Okay, now see this glass of water?

A moron: Yes.

Teacher: Now the volume of water in this glass can be explicitly expressed, because the glass has a specific geometric shape, correct?

A moron: Gimme.

Teacher: You want to hold the glass? Okay. (The moron takes the glass and drinks most of the water.) Well, then, now the glass has less water in it, but we can still use it for our example. May have it back please? Thank you.

A moron: Thank you!

Teacher: Now, because this glass is a cylinder, the volume of water in it can be exactly calculated. But, imagine if this water were contained in an irregularly shaped container, how might we estimate its volume?

A moron: Dee-dee-dee-Tee. Dee-dee-dee-Tee. Dee-dee-dee-Tee.

Teacher: Good guess, but we wouldn’t use differential calculus for this problem. This is where integral calculus comes in. Imagine the water in a lake, or in the ocean: highly irregularly shaped containers, indeed!

A moron: Dee-dee-dee-Tee. Dee-dee-dee-Tee. Dee-dee-dee-Tee.

Teacher: Now, you’ve got to stop saying that so we can–

A moron: Dee-dee-dee-Tee. Dee-dee-dee-Tee. Dee-dee-dee-Tee.

Teacher: I’m sorry, but you’ve got to be quiet for a moment.

A moron: Dee-dee-dee-Tee. Dee-dee-dee-Tee. Dee-dee-dee-Tee. Can I have more water?

Teacher: Not right now, okay, so imagine–

A moron: Dee-dee-dee-Tee. Dee-dee-dee-Tee. Dee-dee-dee-Tee.

Teacher: Shut Up! Shut Up! You ridiculous person!

A moron: Dee-dee-dee-Tee. Dee-dee-dee-Tee. Dee-dee-dee-Tee.

(The teacher lunges at the moron. They struggle. The lights go out. A horrifying scream is heard. The lights come back on. The teacher and the moron both lay dead in pools of their own blood on opposite sides of the stage.)

(Curtain.)

* * *

*Translator’s note: Some critics of Plank’s play have suggested that the reference to cars and driving are anachronistic, and that the play is actually a recently written forgery. However, gasoline powered cars had been manufactured in Germany by Karl Benz since the 1880’s, and steam and electric powered cars even predate this by several decades.

(Originally published on November 2nd, 2005)