Setting: An operating theater, where surgery is performed, not a perfoming arts space that is in business, those are mythical places.
(Enter Announcer, crosses to down center to a spotlight)
Announcer: Every year in this great land of ours, countless dozens of medical miracles are tirelessly performed. They are called "Surgeries" or "Surgery" or just "Surge" if you like the brevity thing or are simply a "Dude". These surgeries are often not successful, when the unfortunate happens and the surgeon just can't handle the surgery any more, those patients are transported here - to this operating room; where they are assured the tireless, loving care of a modern day miracle worker: Doctor Amless Gallant. For over ten years, Doctor Gallant has worked tirelessly with his tirelessly bubbly team of interestingly-dressed nurses to tirelessly undo the damage done by tirelessly faulty surgeries the country over. He is, in the seldom-heard vernacular of his profession, a "Post Surgeon" . One of only a handful of post surgeons in the world, and, by all accounts, the best in the business. Dr. Gallant has tirelessly agreed to open his operating theater, meaning a place where surgeries are performed, not a performing arts space that is in business, that's fairyland dreaming. I welcome you all to this extremely rare glimpse into the work environment of a post surgeon.
(lights up, a "surgery" bed with Dr. Gallant working on a patient, his two interestingly-dressed nurses, Tuti and Vava, hover around him and the bed, moving about checking anything, this goes on for a few seconds, then Dr. Gallant suddenly hangs his head, drops his tools on the floor, and starts roaring)
Dr. Gallant: NO! NO! NO! NO!! NOOOOOOO!!!! (starts pounding on the chest of the patient)
Vava: What's wrong, Doctor?
Dr. G: We're losing him, Vava! We're LOOOOSSSIIINNGGGGG HIM!!!
Tuti: It's a woman, Dr. G!
Dr G: NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! Then it's worse than I thought! He's dying further and changing gender!!!
V: This is horrible!
Dr. G: Pass me all the tools!
T: All of them?
Dr. G: I have to throw everything I have into this or we're going to lose him her!
T: (Hands him a big box of tools) Here you go, Doctor.
Dr. G: (stoically composing himself, taking the box) Wish me luck!
V: Good luck, Doctor!
T: Go get her him!
Dr. G: (searches briefly in the box of tools, then upends the whole box directly on the patient) Work! DAMN! YOOOOUUUUUUUU!!
V: (checking pulse and vital signs) He she's gone gone, sir!
Dr. G: (collapses to the floor) NOOOOOO! It can't be..... (whimpering, pulling himself to his feet) Well, I gave him her everything I had.
T: Nothing could be done, Doctor.
Dr. G: (puts a loving hand on her shoulder) Perhaps you're right, Tuti. Even though you're only a dumb nurse, perhaps... you're ... right.
V: Good point, Dr. G.
Dr. G: Thanks, Vava. You were defintely included in that last comment by the way. In my heart of hearts, I meant both of you.
V: I know, Doctor; it's nice to hear it again.
Dr G: Well, no sense crying over spilt death, get the next patient in here.
(Tuti wheels one bed out, Vava wheels in a new one. Dr. G: addresses Vava as the patient is wheeled into place)
Dr. G: Where did he come from?
V: The waiting room, sir.
Dr. G: Good. Where did he come from before that?
V: It's a woman, sir.
Dr. G: Another one! Let's get started on her him right away.
(Tuti has returned, she and Vava are picking up the surgical tools, breathing on them and shining them on their clothing)
Dr. G: (poised over the patient with tools in each hand) What's his her problem, Tuti?
T: (reading chart) Seems to be clinically dead, Doctor.
Dr. G: I thought something smelled bad.
T: Died during surgery.
Dr. G: When?
T: Around lunchtime.
Dr. G: When?
T: Around last Monday.
Dr. G: Where?
T: Around Denver.
Dr. G: Rocky. Mountain. Die!
Dr. G: Cause of death?
T: Dying, sir.
Dr. G: From what?
T: From life.
Dr. G: Sounds like a bad one, ladies.
V: Looks like a worse one, sir.
T: Where will you make the first incision, doctor?
Dr. G: Is she he insured, nurse?
T: Oh, yes, handsomely so, sir.
Dr. G. Then I shall make the first incision in... the patient!
V: Excellent choice, sir!
Dr. G: But I will have to make many, many incisions. As many as it costs (half a beat) takes.
T: We'll be here for you, doctor.
Dr. G: Good, because we could be here a while.
V: You work so tirelessly, doctor!
Dr. G: And handsomely so.
T: Certainly, sir.
(lights fade as Dr. G begins slicing randomly without really looking, spotlight down center, Announcer reenters)
Announcer: There you have it, folks, a tireless surgeon and his tireless task. I have to be honest with you, as talented and tirelessly handsome as Dr. Amless Gallant may be, success is fleeting in his line of work. Very.... very.... very... fleet... well, it's non-existent. Which is why Dr. Gallant soldiers on; his is the fight of the brave, the fight of those in hopeless situations hoping to create hope with hopefully helpful handfuls of tools, a never-say-die-again attitude, and a glint in their eye that says: "Hopeful hope" and "Yes, I'm single tonight". I think I join all of you here tonight when I say: Fight on bravely, good doctor! (lights start fading) Fight on, fight on, and then fight on some more, and then just keep fighting and fight after that a bit more and then once more to the fight, where you can fight on some more, and then fight, fight, fight and (lights out) then maybe find it in your heart to fight for a little while longer. You will definitely succeed.... some day.