LIFE in a Box

Ros: (Looking down into his box of Life cereal) It could go on for ever. Well, not for ever, I suppose. (looks forlornly at cereal in his spoon) Do you ever think of yourself as actually cereal, lying in a box with a lid on it?

Guil: No.

Ros: Nor do I, really . . . . It's silly to be depressed by it. (slurps cereal) I mean one thinks of it like being alive in a box (milk dribbles down chin), one keeps forgetting to take into account the fact that one is cereal (wipes chin). . . . which should make all the difference . . . . shouldn't it? I mean, you'd never know you were in a box, would you? Cereal can't think like that. It would be just like being asleep in a box. Not that I'd like to sleep in a box, mind you, not without any air -- you'd wake up dead for a start, and then where would you be? Apart from being a piece of wheat inside a box. That's the bit I don't like, frankly. All wheaty, and you'd get stuck in people's teeth. That's why I don't think of it . . . .

(Guil idly reads the nutritional value of the cereal)

Because you'd be helpless, wouldn't you? Stuffed in a box like that, I mean you'd be in there for ever. Unless you got eaten. Even taking into account the fact that you're wheat shreads, it isn't a pleasant thought. Especially if you're wheat, really . . . . ask yourself, if I asked you straight off -- I'm going to stuff you in this box now, would you rather be wholegrain or regular? Naturally, you'd brefer to be regular. At least that way you might get eaten. Wholegrain is nasty stuff, I tell you. Life in a box is better than no Life at all. I expect. I mean. . . . all my life, that I can remember, I've eaten Life every morning. Where would we be without Life? A cereal could lie in there thinking --- hypothetically --- well, at least I'm not wholegrain! In a minute someone's going to open up the lid and pull me out. (Taps on box) "Hey you, whatsyername! I'm gonna eat you now!

Guil: (slams down box savagely) Don't flog it to death!

Pause.

Ros: (stares at spoon) You mean spoon it, don't you? (Guil glares at Ros) Ah, well. I wouldn't think about it, if I were you. You'd only get depressed. (grabs a strand of Guil's hair and studies it) You look like a wholewheat. Poor fellow. (Pauses) Eternity is a terrible thought. Especially if you're cereal. I mean . . . . you'll go stale after a while and then you'll get thrown out. I mean, when would it end? (Stares at reflection in spoon. Makes a face. Licks spoon and tucks it in his pocket.)

Guil: Are you done now?

Ros: Yes. Do you want any Life? (holds bowl out of Guil)

(Immediately behind him a grand procession enters, principally Claudius, Gertrude, Polonius, and Ophelia. Ros is startled and spills the cereal and milk down his front. Guil rolls his eyes.)

Later . . . . .

Hamlet: (stares at Ros' wet shirt) You are a sponge.

THE END.

Epilogue . . . .

One wholegrain muffin walked up to another wholegrain muffin and said: "You look familiar, do I know you?" The other muffin jumped and screamed: "Oh my God, a talking muffin!"