| Commentary and Philosophy Script posted April 13, 2017 | Chapters: |
...13 14 -15- 16... 
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Script
A chapter in the book Scripts
I'm Going to Tell Teacher-Part II
by michaelcahill
Recap: Michael passed away and found himself in a receptionist's room waiting for an appointment. He wasn't aware of his demise or why he was there or who the appointment was with. Upon entering what he expected to be an office, he encountered a huge amphitheater. Seated at the corner of the stage was his sixth-grade teacher, Mrs. Jacobs. He began to come to the realization that she was God and this was his judgment day. Fade in We continue now as Mrs. Jacobs, preferring to be called Janice, is about to question Michael about his life. He assumes it is to determine where he goes next. He's still somewhat in the dark about everything. Michael Well, whether I understand or not is still quite a bit up in the air. I've got Darwin playing dice with animals in the reception area, and now I'm sitting in this huge expanse with my sixth-grade teacher who appears to be God and I'm about to face judgment day. I'm assuming I'm dead, though I have no recollection of dying. Maybe I'm dreaming but I've pinched myself and slapped myself too, and I'm still here, sooooo.... Janice How did the writing thing go? Michael Oh, yeah, my poem. Yes, that little encouragement stuck with me. Well, I don’t know. I wrote. I wrote until I apparently died. How did I die; do I get to know that? I'm understandably curious. I'm dead, right? Janice That's confidential and it depends on whose definition we go by. You tell me as you lounge in that chair exchanging pleasantries and ideas with your sixth-grade teacher, are you dead? Are dead people involved in such activities you're aware of? When you pass a cemetery do you eaves drop to get the latest dish on the hereafter or ever after as it were? Remember, Michael, within. Michael Well, I suppose then I'm asking, am I alive as I've come to know life up to this point? I mean, this isn't a preferable life to the life or what I had come to accept as life was if it is was. Is it was? Is this is? It's clear that I am me. But, of course, this can't be real. There's no place such as this in reality. Billions of people have died ... or gone on as it were to this different existence. There would be some empirical evidence of it I'm guessing. A population greater than that of Earth wouldn't fit on the head of a pin, now would it? Of course, maybe I was in a world that existed on the head of a pin and finally I've landed in the real world, the world that is full size. OR ... this world is sitting on the head of a pin inside of the world that sat on the head of a pin. It's irrelevant, isn't it? Janice It seems of concern to you. Michael Well, yes, why we are here and I suppose NOW where here is, these are concerns. And you, you are of great interest. If you are who I'm guessing you are, you certainly aren't the same you to Antonio Corleone from the Leaning Tower of Pisa. He'd have a nice Italian lady sitting there, no? Janice Go on. Michael That means, this is all mine. I'm making this up. It's not real. If that's the case, then what is real. Did I leave real to come here to NOT real? Wait, if I'm real here, which I'm sure I am, AND I'm real there, which I'm sure I was, then I'm real everywhere and you're real as you are the fig tree I've conjured apparently since you are specific to my existence. And that, ladies and weaker homo sapiens is why they call it the blues. Michael rises and grabs the top hat and cane from the cardboard cutout of Frank Sinatra ... Michael Thank you, Old Blue Eyes, you won't be needing these, you're an inanimate object ... THEEEEEEESE little town blues, are melting awaaaaayyyyyaaaaaaa .... Janice Very nice, Michael. So, we're done here then? Aren't you curious about them? Janice gestures out to the seats in the amphitheater. There are several hundred-people seated there. They've risen to their feet and are cheering Michael's performance. Michael is taken aback, but nonetheless bows with top hat in hand in a sweeping gesture. An encore occurs to him, but Janice interrupts. Janice Do you have anything to say to these people? Michael Thank you! Thanks so much for stopping by. You're too kind, really. I'll be appearing ... well, it's up to the booking agent I suppose. Janice Don't you recognize anyone? Michael studies the crowd who are now seated and stoic. They are mostly unknown to him. However, there are a few familiar faces. They are mostly people he barely knew, acquaintances or old school mates, people from long forgotten jobs ... Michael Oh, yes, I do recognize a couple folk here and there. I think that's old lady Bickersfield, my eighth-grade teacher. Ahhh ... Linda something, from the tenth grade, I think she asked me to the backwards dance one year. Hmmm ... Mark Lillybark, umm, in some class in high school--I don't recall which one. Oh, oh, Robert Byrd, Ha, Stinky, everyone called him. Wow, that's third grade. What a memory. The rest, I don’t recall. So, who are they? Why are they here? Janice Would you say you were a good person? Kind? Caring? Michael Well, yes. I think I went out of my way to be kind and not hurt anyone. Make everyone better for having known me. That was ... erm, is my philosophy. Isn't that the case? Janice You hurt every single one of those people out there by your indifference and selfishness. Though they needed a kind word or a small gesture, you walked right by them wrapped up in your own little world, oblivious to anything but your own petty needs. That's a lot of hurt, isn't it? How do you feel about that? Michael looked out over the crowd and then looked down and held his head in his hands. He looked up ashen faced. Michael How can that be? What is it I did? I don't even recall encountering most of these people. The ones I do ... well, what did I do to any of them? Old Lady Bickersfield, she was mean as cactus needles. She should be apologizing to me, no? Janice She saw great potential in you. A teacher's great joy is in finding a bright child and teaching them something that will elevate them in life's journey. She desperately wanted that for you. She tried everything. She tried talking to you and befriending you. She tried challenging you. When all else failed, she tried discipline to force you to conform to the rules. But none of it reached you in the slightest way. You were too busy entertaining your friends. You found her to be great sport, didn't you? Look at how you refer to her now even though you are a full-grown adult, Old Lady Bickersfield. Isn't that a lovely moniker for a woman dedicated to educating unappreciative young people, like yourself. How she would have delighted to teach you one little thing. But you wouldn't have it. To this day, it's never occurred to you what a vicious little boy you were to treat her the way you did. Do you not think you owe her an apology at least, Mr. Make Everyone's Life Better for Knowing You? --To Be Continued--
Click HERE To Read Part One. :))
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. Continuation of a Potlatch challenge: You've passed away and whether you're a believer or not, you've encountered some version of God and you're being judged. Take it anywhere you wish. Well, I'm less sure where this is going not than when I started. LOL Totally open to feedback and suggestions. At least another part and that may finish it ... or maybe not. :)) 
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