Wednesday, March 23, 2005

Pharyngula: The Musical (Part Ten of Several)

[Contents] [<<] [<] [>]


SCENE: A Dark, Dank, Disgusting, Rat-Infested Dungeon, underneath the City. PZ Myers can be seen, inhabiting a Particularly Loathsome Cell, complete with Buckets catching Drips from a Substandard Ceiling. He is bent over a desk, pen in hand, apparently composing a Letter. No, maybe it's his Memoirs. No, it's definitely a Letter. Enter the Narrator, in a Sneaky Fashion.

POMPOUS NARRATOR: Poor Professor Myers. The wheels of Justice turn with all the grace and alacrity of mushrooms falling upstairs. Which is to say, of course, with no grace or alacrity at all. And so, our poor professor languishes, here amongst the rats and the fleas--

PZ scratches his neck.

PZ MYERS (grumbling): He had to mention the fleas!

POMPOUS NARRATOR: --with only a twitching, grotesque death to look forward to!

PZ MYERS: Guard!

A Churchgoer Guard enters, collars the Narrator, and drags him from the stage under Protest.

POMPOUS NARRATOR (on his way out): Undaunted by the prospect of an early and MOST GRUESOME demise, P.Z. pens a rousing farewell to his students!

With a resounding Crash, the Guard and the Narrator vanish into the Wings. PZ returns to his Letter-Writing, with a Derisive "Pssh" Sound.

PZ MYERS (writing): Forget, if you will, your professor,
But carry in mind his last--pshaw!

He crosses this out, crumples up the Paper it was on, and starts again on a New Sheet.

I leave, as my final behest
To my students, a humble bequ--augh!

He crosses this out, also, and begins anew.

E lucevan le stelle....


PZ MYERS (tossing this Latest Abomination aside, and writing with Renewed Determination): I am not a wordy man.
In this note's my master plan
Written in a clever code
To flummox any Churchie toad!

Where the thrumming Rana quivers,
And the Schoenoplectus shivers,
Let Larus hyperbore's crying
Guide you where the Salix, sighing,
Reaches for the wind.

Turn you, then, to face Eudyptes
And his neighbour, Ovis aries;
Follow them where Digitalis
seeks to balance
Poison with succour.

There, you'll find an equine fellow,
'Midst the Helianthus yellow--
Beyond him, green Glechoma bowers
A greenhouse, full of rotten flowers,
Sunken in its frame.

From there, it's but a simple task:
Seek out the spot where Felis basks;
Scare him off, and dig down under,
Careful not to rip asunder
The bounty hid beneath.

He folds up the Letter, and seals it into an Envelope.

I've left them a book or two: Eberhard's Developmental Plasticity and Evolution, if I'm not mistaken, and Thompson's On Growth and Form. Moby Dick, as well. I hope they find them before they get too soggy. I hope they keep up with their reading. Guard! Guard!

He Rattles at the bars of his Cell. A Guard appears. This time, it is Mr. Iscariot, who has apparently been assigned to Dungeon Detail.


MR. ISCARIOT (aside): (I can't look him in the eye.)

PZ MYERS: Well, if it isn't Mr. Iscariot, the traitor!

MR. ISCARIOT: No! No! I'm here to save you. I'll do anything you want.

PZ MYERS: Where have I heard that before?

S.P.A.M.: (Various Salacious Whistles and Catcalls)

PZ MYERS: On second thoughts...just get this to the University, won't you?

MR. ISCARIOT: Consider it done.

He hurries off into the Wings, letter tucked into his Sleeve for the purpose of Concealment. PZ returns to his desk to await, presumably, his next Rodential Visit.
Part 11


Post a Comment

<< Home