You Arrogant Bastard

Dinner With Socrates

MOM: Billy, when did Socrates tell you he was going to get here? The food is getting cold.
BILLY: He’s here, mom. He’s out in the back playing with the garbage cans.
SOCRATES: (through open window) Don’t you love cans?
(Socrates comes inside)
DAD: Socrates it’s great to have you over. Billy says you are his favorite teacher at school.
SOCRATES: Please! You are the greatest people of all time. You are truly perfect humans all.
DAD: Have a seat, we’re just bringing out dinner.
SOCRATES: Compared to you, I am nothing but human shit. I am bird shit.
BILLY: Hey, Socrates!
SOCRATES: Billy! You are a wonderful and brilliant child. It is so nice to see you outside school.
MOM: Hope you like pot roast!
(Socrates falls completely silent, mouth agape, and does not move)
DAD: Socrates?
BILLY: Don’t worry, Dad, he does this sometimes.
(10 minutes pass)
SOCRATES: Pot roast will be fine.
(Socrates is served)
MOM: Now, were you… meditating just then?
SOCRATES: Madam, I was in contemplation.
MOM: You looked very serious. I’ve never seen anything like that before.
SOCRATES: Madam, don’t read too far into it. Among those of my ilk, these spells of contemplation are as reasonable and natural as, say, grown men having anal sex with young boys. Could you pass me the wine?
(He drinks 3 whole bottles of wine)
SOCRATES: See, I don’t know what it is, but I can just drink boatloads of this stuff and not get drunk. And don’t get me wrong, I’m trying to.
MOM: Well, I…
SOCRATES: Indeed, many a young soldier has slipped his hand beneath my robes and grabbed at my genitals, under the heavy spell of wine always. (Laughs loudly) You know, this house is like a large ship, and you sir are the captain! (Points aggressively at Dad)
DAD: Ha…So, um, Socrates… what do you do for fun?
SOCRATES: Oh, I couldn’t possibly know the answer to that question. What do you do for fun?
DAD: Well, Billy has his soccer team and I’m the coach, so—
SOCRATES: Do you think that all people strive to attain enjoyment?
DAD: Well, I suppose—
SOCRATES: And surely you must agree that when someone’s desires flow towards enjoyment, he often joins others in games of organized sport?
DAD: Sure…
SOCRATES: And tennis is a sport, isn’t it?
DAD: Tennis is a sport, yes.
SOCRATES: Then you have your answer.
DAD: I like to play tennis?
SOCRATES: No, I like to play tennis.
DAD: …
SOCRATES: Do you have any more wine? I drank everything that was out here.
MOM: Well, I suppose we may have some downstairs... I’ll go check.
SOCRATES: Billy, what’s your favorite color?
BILLY: Blue!
SOCRATES: You obviously don’t like the best color. The best color is purple.
(Several minutes of silence. Socrates watches Billy intensely as he eats. Mom returns with the wine. Socrates immediately begins drinking again)
DAD: Honey, this pot roast is delicious.
MOM: What?
DAD: I said this pot roast is great.
MOM: It’s a new recipe.
DAD: Well, I’m telling you I like it. Socrates, we’ve been looking for a new recipe for pot roast, what do you think?
SOCRATES: Do you see my plate?
DAD: Yes, it’s empty.
SOCRATES: Indeed! And why then would this plate appear as such, that I have eaten all the pot roast?
DAD: Because you were hungry?
SOCRATES: But if I were simply hungry, couldn’t I have just eaten that lamp over there?
DAD: What?
SOCRATES: Surely there must be another reason that I chose to eat the pot roast.
DAD: You liked it?
SOCRATES: Yeah it’s ok. Nice sauce.
BILLY: There are no lamps in here.
SOCRATES: Well then, I should be on my way. As the grand… ship does sail…
(gets up and seems to lose his balance, but rights himself and walks to the fireplace) As the captain does guide his ship… (he vomits into the fireplace) Wow. I’m sorry. (vomits again)
BILLY: Socrates? Are you ok?
(Socrates turns around for a moment and makes some indecipherable hand motion, then stands up, walks toward the sliding glass door, but fails to open it and falls through, shattering the glass and cutting his arms and legs)
SOCRATES: (indecipherable)… fuck… (staggers to a potted plant and begins vomiting into the pot)…fuck. This never happens. I’m really sorry. I’ll pay for the window. I’m really sorry. (starts to walk away but collapses in the driveway).
MOM: You know, its going to be really hard to clean that fireplace. He could have seriously vomited anywhere else and it would have been fine.
DAD: Billy, call an ambulance for Socrates.