Starring Peter Coyote

The scene opens on a dimly lit stage, styled like an old-school 1970s educational video. Peter Coyote sits at a desk, calm and thoughtful, looking directly into the camera. Behind him, a projector hums softly, casting images of playgrounds, classrooms, and various scenes of bullying.

Peter Coyote (voice calm, wise):

Good evening, everyone.

Today, I’d like to talk to you about an important topic—bullying. Now, you might be thinking, “Here comes another tired lecture about how we should all be kind to one another.” But what if I told you… bullying serves an essential role in our society?

He pauses, raises an eyebrow, smirking slightly as he leans back.

That’s right. It’s time we stopped demonizing the noble bully and recognized their vital contribution to building character, enforcing social hierarchies, and preparing children for the cruel, uncaring world that awaits them outside those soft, padded classrooms.

Peter presses a button on the projector, showing black-and-white footage of kids shoving one another on a playground.

Peter Coyote (deadpan, with a hint of sarcasm):

Look at them—nature’s trainers. Teaching young Timmy here that life isn’t fair, and it never will be. How else would Timmy learn that no one really cares about his participation trophy? Bullying, you see, is the cornerstone of reality. It’s the emotional equivalent of boot camp. Do we coddle soldiers before sending them into battle? No. We strip them down and build them back up stronger.

The projector flicks to an image of a scrawny kid being mocked by classmates.

Peter Coyote (leans in, voice soft but firm):

Take little Susie here. They’re laughing at her because she’s got last season’s shoes. Now, you might call this cruelty. I call it motivation. In the real world, you don’t get a promotion because you tried your best—you get it because you’ve got better shoes and know how to play the game.

The camera zooms in on Peter’s face as he shifts tone, becoming more intense, almost conspiratorial.

Peter Coyote (smiling):

Think of the bully as the ultimate life coach—just without the expensive subscription fees. Bullies don’t charge you for their service. No, they provide free feedback, 24/7. It’s tough love in its purest form. Sure, maybe they’re making fun of your haircut, but really they’re just giving you a head start on that thick skin you’re going to need when your boss laughs at your quarterly report in front of the entire office.

Another projector slide, this time a kid sitting alone, looking dejected.

Peter Coyote (a touch of melodramatic pathos):

Ah yes, the ostracized child—nature’s way of saying, “You’re not ready for the real world yet.” You see, being excluded doesn’t break you—it molds you. Makes you stronger, scrappier. Like Rocky training in that dirty old gym, alone, but ready to take on the world. That’s right, ostracized kids aren’t victims—they’re future CEOs, musicians, and Instagram influencers. Every insult is just fuel for the fire of success.

Peter stands and walks over to a chalkboard with the words “Evolution in Action” written in neat cursive.

Peter Coyote (with the cadence of a scientific lecture):

Now, let’s talk about evolution. Survival of the fittest, right? The weak get weeded out, the strong prevail. You see, bullying is just evolution’s way of separating the wheat from the chaff. The playground bully? Nature’s personal trainer. Keeping the social order intact, ensuring that only the toughest, the wittiest, and the most emotionally repressed make it to the top.

He pauses, and with a serious look, taps the chalkboard.

Without bullies, where would we get our entrepreneurs? Our politicians?

He slowly returns to his desk, as the projector now shows motivational images of famous figures—Steve Jobs, Oprah, and others who’ve overcome adversity.

Peter Coyote (in a grand, philosophical tone):

Think about it. Oprah? Bullied. Steve Jobs? Bullied. Do we really think they would’ve risen to such heights if everyone was nice to them? No! They needed that fire, that drive to prove people wrong. The bully is not the villain of their story; the bully is the spark.

Peter sits back down, the tone now shifting to an intimate, almost reflective mood. He picks up a cup of coffee and takes a slow sip.

Peter Coyote (softly, thoughtfully):

In conclusion, maybe we’ve misunderstood the bully. Maybe they’re not monsters. Maybe they’re just… life’s toughest teachers. And while their methods are unorthodox, even a little rough around the edges, we have to ask ourselves—are we better off without them? Or do they, in their own twisted way, make us better?

He leans back, eyes twinkling with a knowing smile.

Peter Coyote (calm, with a touch of sarcasm):

So here’s to the bully. The unsung hero in the grand play of life.

He raises his coffee mug in a mock toast, as the projector flickers off and the scene fades to black.

End scene.