Aristotle (lecturing): the tragic hero should be a good ruler or leader.
(The class scribbles it down)
Oedipus: I'm a good person!
Aristotle (glances over at him, irritated): Yes, yes, be quiet. You're disturbing me.
Oedipus (jumping up and down): And I'm a ruler too! I rule Thebes!
Aristotle (more annoyed): Shush! You're supposed to be taking notes! Ahem. Where was I? Oh, yes. The tragic hero must be good, but they will have a flaw.
(Oedipus's brow creases as he engages in some serious thinking)
Aristotle: Their misfortune will be the result of some great error or frailty.
Oedipus: AHA!
(The whole class jumps and glares at him)
Oedipus (leaps to his feet and waves his left arm around, unaware of their baleful stares): I have a frailty! My elbow hurts whenever it rains!
(Groans from the class . . .)
Aristotle: No, No, NO! I meant a flaw in the personality, you illiterate pupil! A faulty judgment; a weakened resolve . . . (Oedipus thinks some more) Anyhow . . . as I was saying . . . ahem . . . the tragedy brings the reader to experience pity and fear on behalf of the tragic hero.
Oedipus: Oh, oh, oh, oh! I am a tragic hero! Everyone feels sorry for me!
Aristotle (mutters): I wonder why.
Oedipus: And they're all scared of me, too. (looks around at all the empty desks surrounding his)
(They all roll their eyes in exasperation)
Oedipus: Oh, come on—let me tell everyone about my great, grave, serious, solemn, somber, stern, grim, severe, fateful, dire flaws!
Class: No. Never! Don't even begin!
Aristotle: Hey! Democracy, democracy! The man has a right to speak! *Uh, did I just say that?* Let's hear him out. Do you solemnly swear to tell the Truth, the whole Truth and nothing but the Truth so help you God?
Oedipus: Er . . . wasn't that invented by the Americans in the 1800's? You were . . . well, dead by then . . .
Aristotle: Ahem, I knew that . . . of course I knew that! I know everything! Get on with your tragic tale!