Or Old School Fiction Friday. Or Flashback Fiction Friday. Or Wait - Is That A School Assignment From Sophomore Year Fiction Friday.
Whatever you want to call it, I was going through an old flash drive and found this. Philosophes. In hell. I distinctly remember thinking that this was hilarious. And you get to see my casting decisions as well. Party on.
Edit: I found the rest of it at school. Here it is. It's very nice. There are some edits that overlap with what I posted earlier.
Robespierre: I like dark things too! Where’s Hitler?
Satan: What are you whispering about? (whispered)
Robespierre: We’re looking for Hitler so we can kick his butt.
Satan: I’ll show you where he is.
Robespierre, Satan, Nietzsche leave
(Machiavelli stays, smiling sadistically)
Machiavelli: (soliloquy) Well, I want to kill somebody. I feel like Robespierre is my biggest threat. He’s the most Machiavellian, out of everyone there. Is it weird to use your own name as an adjective? Maybe. But I’ve always wanted to be the kind of person who had a name that was an adjective. Or maybe a verb. Could you machevelli that for me? See, doesn’t that sound nice? Yes. Yes it does. It sounds delicious.
Robespierre and Nietzsche come back in
Machiavelli: Where did you lose Satan?
Robespierre and Nietzsche exchange glances and then say “we took care of him”
Machiavelli: I really didn’t think you two would have the guts to do that.
Robespierre: *Angrily* What do you mean? I killed thousands. I ruled all of France.
Machiavelli: Oh yes you did. And whose ideas did you use to do that?
Robespierre: Certainly not yours.
Machiavelli: Shakes head and laughs.
Nietzsche: It’s so funny that you two believe that you can rule. You are mere mortals. You are not supermen. Supermen should clearly be the ones ruling everything. Not you fools.
Machiavelli: And what makes you think that we’re not Supermen?
Nietzsche: You’re not perfect. You don’t possess the kind of features that a Superman has.
Robespierre and Machiavelli glare and walk towards him.
Nietzsche runs away, preferably squeaking.
Machiavelli laughs, smirks, whatever. (Awkward silence…)
Machiavelli: So…who’s going to rule Hell now?
Robespierre: We should have a Hamlet-style fight to the death!
(they fight, they die)
Robespierre: O Fortinbras! He has my dying voice!