5.6.2007: The Metamorphosis (A Fantasia with Franz Kafka in It)

The lights come up on Franz Kafka, furiously typing away on an old typewriter. Around him are a ton of little balls of paper.

KAFKA
“As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed in his bed into a gigantic… frog.”

No.

Kafka pulls the page out of the typewriter and balls it up. It is tossed and joins the others on the floor.

KAFKA (cont.)
“As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed in his bed into a gigantic… herring.”

No.

Again, the paper business.

As Kafka goes for a third attempt, The Guy appears.

THE GUY
Hey.

KAFKA
I’m busy.

THE GUY
I just need a minute.

KAFKA
I’m busy. I’m writing.

THE GUY
So am I. But I just need a second of your time. Look at me.

KAFKA
Writing!

THE GUY
Just look at me.

Kafka does. A silence.

KAFKA
What?

THE GUY
Do I look different to you?

KAFKA
I don’t know. I’ve never seen you before. So if you are different than you were yesterday, an hour ago, five minutes ago, I would not know because this is the only way I’ve ever known you.

Even though I don’t know you.

I have to write.

THE GUY
I feel like something else entirely.

KAFKA
But what?

THE GUY
I don’t know.

KAFKA
No, not you. Me. I don’t know what he should awake to find himself transformed into.

THE GUY
Your character?

KAFKA
My character.

THE GUY
I awoke this morning to find myself transformed.
Into what, I’m not too sure.
I feel like myself…

…but somehow not myself.

Like a better version of myself.
A version of myself with more…

…just more.

KAFKA
Eel. No.
Muskrat. No.

THE GUY
It’s sort of like waking up and finding yourself transformed into a giant insect.

KAFKA
Insect! That’s it!

THE GUY
Only you’re happy about it.

KAFKA
I imagine Gregor Samsa in that moment between sleep and waking, thinking to himself, “You know, something is changed.” And the beauty of that moment is that you’re not too sure what’s different… only that something is.

And instead of worrying about what comes next and how the change must be dealt with, there’s only the wave of enjoyment that comes with knowing the future is beginning to work itself upon you.

Of course for Gregor, everything goes to shit.

But for you…

THE GUY
Who knows?

Kafka goes back to writing. The Guy turns to watch. The lights fade.