A Fable by Richard Asher (with thanks to Aesop's Boy Who Cried Wolf))
Note that the Rhodes University Drama and Journalism Departments are forced to share one building. Across the street is Sublime, a quaint coffee shop dealing in muffins, cigarettes, fudge and other herbal remedies.
ne
day an innocent, hardworking journalism student was walking to the TV
department. Suddenly, he heard terrible sounds. There were shrieks, there
were wails, there were moans. Someone chillingly screamed, "I've
been poisoned! How could you! You brute!" Being a heroic sort of
journalism student, he went running to the aid of the distressed voice.
He traced the sounds to the Box Theatre. There he found several figures
clad in black, milling about, and apparently in perfect health. Astutely
noticing his consternation, they interrupted their outrageous activities
and said, "Don't worry, we're only rehearsing. We're drama students,
you know."
The next day, the same student was proceeding up the stairs. To his surprise, he noticed in the foyer some people writhing on the floor and foaming at the mouth. He observed one of them stand up, pick up another, swing her four times in the air and drop her on her head. A bursting sound was heard; the others on the floor became inert. Thinking this kind of domestic violence wasn't at all right, our intrepid journalist rushed to intervene. Looking rather annoyed at having been interrupted, the perpetrator said, "We're drama students, we're rehearsing, and thanks to YOU we will have to start again."
The day after, our journalist was leaving the building. There, upon the stairs, sat a sickly-looking handful of young layabouts. All of them were smoking and none wore any shoes. Just when it seemed they were all completely lost for thought, a dominant one suddenly blurted, between smoke rings, "O…{pause for effect}…MY…….{pause for effect}....GOD! I ex-shly can-NOT cope. I think I am going to DIE!!! These rehearsals have been going on for THREE….{pause for effect}…WEEKS, and you know…..we actually haven't got ANYTHING done. It's all Gustav's fault. This will [insert really cool swear word here]-ing KILL me! I think I need to go to Sublime…"
This time, of course, the pleas and cries and wails were for real. She really WAS in a crisis. As the others sadly shook their heads, she took a long, contemplative puff on her cigarette and stared at the brickwork as if a solution would pop up there and then. It was a most desperate situation.
But the journalism student was too wise to pay any attention this time. He knew this must be play-acting. No doubt they were rehearsing again. It couldn't possibly be that bad. He walked straight past without so much as a glance. And so the drama students were on their own. Nobody came to help, and they simply had to do some work for a change.
MORAL: Drama students are incorrigible and intolerable.
