This weekend I had the, what I would ordinarily call "opportunity," but because the word bespeaks of promise, future and like words of good connotation, I now refer to as the "experience," to work at an English camp for young Spanish tykes. Rather than give a roll-call of the Guillermo's and Lucia's present, I present you with the work-in-progress...
"How to get a Jorge to Eat a Pear."
ACT 1
Jorge: I don't want this pear!
Spanish Counselor: You don't want the pear?! Why don't you want the pear? Pears are delicious! And these are especially good. They come from the organic farm in Uceda and they're so juicy and full of--
Jorge: I don't want this pear! I want yogurt!
Spanish Counselor: Dear, we don't have any yogurt. Look at all the other children, dear. They're eating their pears and look how happy they are. Take a bite, they're so--
Jorge: I don't want it! I don't want it! I don't want it!
Spanish Counselor: --full of flavor and vitamins. You have to stay healthy and if you don't eat it you'll get sick, and when you go outside with your wet hair you won't have the defenses to stay well and then you can't play soccer and you'll have to eat chicken broth...
Jorge: No!
(Exit Jorge to the pantry to steal chocolate)
ACT 2
Jorge: I don't want this pear!
American Counselor: I don't care. Eat it.
Jorge: But I don't like pears! I'm allergic to them, and I want yogurt!
American Counselor: That's fantastic. Now sit down and eat the pear.
Jorge: But I just want--
American Counselor: I don't give a @$#% what you want, I just know if you don't sit down and eat that pear you won't eat til you get home, and as it's only Friday and you're friends are too selfish to share, you'd better eat that pear.
(A blank stare from Jorge, who's understood nothing save the negatory expression on his counselor's face. He takes a few cowering bites until the counselor tells him to sweep the cafeteria)
I have a few holes to fill, but eventually the counselors all go home and so does Jorge, all with no tears shed and cold, bitter resentment engraved on their faces.
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3 comments:
I want to be the first to say, I don't understand.
Hahaha--oh, I'm so sad I missed out on all the fun. :)
The third act shows Jorge at his home, gorging himself on pears--his favorite food--leaving the audience to decide what his motivation was for the tantrum. Was it a hatred for the counselors? Existential anguish? A secret love of sweeping cafeterias?
Also: this is Cate's friend Drew. I just started reading your blog, and I'm thoroughly enjoying myself.
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