[Afternoon sun beams through the huge trees of an ancient forest. Silenus, the satyr, stumbles from behind a tree. The white-haired little guy has the pointy ears and legs of a horse, but the upper body of an old, pot-bellied man.]
Silenus: What? Are we on? No, wait... wait... not ready.
[Mumbling off camera.]
Silenus: Have some respect for your elders! Now where did I put that...?
[He searches around for something.]
Silenus: Ah! Here it is.
[The old satyr groans as he bends and picks up a wineskin from the ground. Wine runs down his hairy chest and bulbous belly as he gulps greedily.]
Silenus: Ahhhhh! Now it's time for a show.
[Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.]
Silenus: Whazzup, everybody! I'm Silenus, the oldest satyr of all, and I've been asked by this fine network to do a little show about all the different kind of nymphs there are around. I've known quite a few nymphs in my time—if you know what I mean—so I'm definitely the satyr for the job. Okay, check this out.
[Silenus raps his knobby knuckles on an ancient oak tree behind him.]
Silenus: Hellooooooooooooooo! Helloooooooooooooooooooooo!
[He turns to the camera with a wink.]
Silenus: They really hate when you do this.
[The old satyr knocks even harder on the tree.]
[He stops and takes another swig of wine.]
Silenus: Oh well, I guess there's no dryad living in this tree. I'm guess no one will mind if I chop it down. Let's see, where did I put my chainsaw...
[Suddenly, a pretty, but very annoyed face begins to emerge from the bark of the tree.]
Silenus: Now we're getting somewhere.
[The beautiful nymph slips from her tree, wearing skimpy robes made of leaves. She crosses her thin arms across her chest.]
Hamadryad: I told you I didn't want to be on your stupid show, Silenus.
Silenus: Well, I'm so glad you had a change of heart.
Silenus: Why don't you tell the folks at home what it's like being a dryad?
Hamadryad: I'm a hamadryad.
[Silenus mugs to the camera.]
Silenus: A hama-what?
Hamadryad: Dryads are the spirits of an entire forest. Hamadryads are attached to a single tree. We live and die along with them.
Silenus: This tree looks pretty old. How old does that make you?
Hamadryad: Are we done here?
Silenus: No way, I've got to fill a whole hour with this or I lose my contract.
Hamadryad: A bunch of naiads live in a pool of water over there. Why don't you go talk to them?
Silenus: I tried, but they seduced most of my camera crew into going under the water with them.
Hamadryad: Yeah, that's kind of their thing. Well, head up the mountain a little bit. There are some oreads up there. You'll like them. They're super flirty, and they have a thing for satyrs.
Silenus: Even old satyrs?
Hamadryad: Especially old satyrs.
Silenus: I think you're making that up. Anyway, these old horse legs would never make it all the way up that slope.
Hamadryad: Go to the sea and interview the nereids, then!
Silenus: We can't afford a submarine.
Hamadryad: Go up in the air and talk to the nephalai in the clouds or the aurai on the breezes—you've got options, dude.
Silenus: We'd need an airplane.
Hamadryad: I'm getting very tired of this conversation.
Silenus: Quick, do something very nymph-like and amazing. I feel my ratings dropping.
Hamadryad: How about this?
[The beautiful nymph snaps her finger, and a vine snakes down around Silenus' ankle.]
[The old satyr dangles upside down, squirting wine everywhere as he spins around.]
Hamadryad: That's what you get for threatening my tree! I hope you learned your lesson.
Silenus: This is great! The folks at home are going to love this. Do something else! Can you make your tree dance or something?
Hamadryad: I've got an idea. There's supposed to be a Bacchanal in this clearing tonight.
Hamadryad: I think I'll teach the Maenads a new game.
Silenus: What? What?
Hamadryad: Pin the tail on the old, drunken satyr.
Silenus: But I've already got a tail.
Hamadryad: I think you need two.