Praise.

Lights rise, revealing one MAN up against a wall opposite a line of five soldiers, guns raised as a firing squad. The MAN does not seem afraid, and is even smirking a bit.

Soldier One:

(Shouting Orders)

Alright, on three men! One, TWO…

Man:

(Interrupting, very courteously)

That’s a mighty fine rifle you’ve got there sir.

Each of the Soldiers smirks proudly eyeing their own rifles lovingly before responding.

Soldiers:

(Ad Lib)

Why thank you!/ That’s kind of you./ Well. Hey, you know what you’re talking about.

After uttering these thanks, each of the soldiers instantly glares at his fellow soldiers. The MAN continues to smirk.

Soldier Four:

(Assertive)

He was speaking about my rifle.

Soldier Three:

(Incredulous)

He most certainly was not! This man has finer taste then to have been talking of anyone’s rifle but my own.

Soldier Two:

Now wait one second there, why couldn’t the gentleman have been speaking about my rifle?

Soldier Five:

Because your rifle wouldn’t be considered fine by your own mother!

Soldier One:

Why don’t we simply ask the fine young lad whose rifle he was speaking of?

All the soldiers affirm enthusiastically at the idea.

What say you, Sir, Mind telling us who you meant to give that praise to?

The MAN nods his head courteously.

Man:

Certainly. I was speaking of the one with those shiniest of boots, of course.

Soldiers:

(Ad Lib)

I knew it!/ See, I told you it was myself./ I don’t see why there was a dispute at all!

As soon as they are finished spewing out there relieved assurances, all the soldiers twist angrily to face each other furiously; no longer paying attention to or aiming their rifles at the MAN. They immediately begin yelling furiously at each other creating chaos, pointing fingers, without many recognizable words. After a moment, Soldier One regains order, barely.

Soldier One:

(Irritated)

Since you foul dogs cannot tell a well polished boot when you see one, we’ll just have to ask that strapping young man, as a fine outstanding citizen, to specify.

The soldiers grudgingly nod, still glaring at one another.

So, very sorry to bother you again, old friend, but some of my men seem to be lacking enough intelligence to determine that you were complimenting my boots, could you maybe bear with their slowness and explain plainly whose boots you meant?

Man:

(Quite Politely)

Oh, no problem, sir of course I’m happy to oblige. The one who I was speaking of…

All the Soldiers catch their breaths nervously.

Was that man right there with that most well ironed Uniform.

The Soldiers exhale and are all visibly relieved, immediately they each realize what the others are thinking, and they instantly turn their guns on each other, enragedly shouting how the MAN was talking about their own uniform and firing a shot. All the soldiers drop to the ground at the same time. The MAN smirks as he collects himself, and confidently walks across the soldier’s bodies offstage. Lights fade.

Fin.