Friday, February 8, 2008

more scenes from SC

A forgettable one act play.
Cobb: The break down of modern civilization is directly related to the quality of cartoons shown on television.
Heather: I disagree with your thesis. Why must you always blame television for your sexual hangups?
Cobb: The way my sex hangs has nothing to do with TV. I just want to point my finger at an easy target.
Heather: You are a self-righteous bastard, you know that. If I weren’t already sleeping with you I would have my coffee on the back porch.
Cobb: Cool. I couldn’t care less where your dynamite comes from.
Heather: I am voting for the elastic party where all us beauties can feel like carrots.

(just then the economy breaks down and the void swallows all participants in this dinner theater)
I came to this country looking for tolerance all I found was tollbooths. Why can’t I drive on the roads without paying my weekly salary.
“Son of a Bitch!” I screamed.
(Choirs above and below the deck were known to be all vocal chord and no jig). “Together we can take this herd to Missouri.”
The boat leaves at 1:30 p.m. towards a new wife. Seventeen seems like a good Manchurian. I tried to reduce the number of cavalry officers in this play, but I knew they were outta work. Stumpy Joe was a cry on the back lot of Paramount when the hurricane hit. He was devastated because the storm carried his favorite horse Mindy away. A funeral was held at noon.
“Where do babies come from?”
Bob Horny was with his two friends when science interrupted.
“Stacey please…” Joe said.
He pleaded with his mouth while Bob played harmonica.
“I did not know you expected to marry the Bishop Rawlins.”
Bob took his hands off her chest. In the forest he cursed God. Stacey was three cycles away. Bob never forgave the Bishop. How he came to be a hermit monk in the forests of Arizona remains a mystery.
Meanwhile Stacey owns a profitable pornography store in Dallas, TX. She sells condoms with a picture of Jesus on them. The tale end of the tail comes something like this: Bob was lost, Stacey was found, and Joe was on his knees three nights a week.
I started to finish…
Con fee skate the delirium post-haste transformer man – Ye best get away from the radio – I should warn ya – the ghost of rock ‘n’ roll hates to be seen.
Skinny down on the farm is the son of General Poor Pear. Skinny likes his sugar sweet. He wakes early every year just to pick the most perfect cane. His sister Jenny took off with an artist who was bound for the gutter. She never worked a day in her life. Skinny did not mind. He was always lost in a rush of sugar. It kept him going. Daddy pushed him to find the time to read. He read as if he were in a race. He went through books faster than most light bulb college students. Though an understanding usually escaped him. This was alright. He was not a calculating sort. He was not interested in being a scholar. Skinny felt they missed the point. Jenny never came back. He had a younger brother. This was news to him. Edgar Rim-Jim. Nice boy. A little wit and wisdom. He was gifted. Ed could play a piano better the Alfred Mozart. Al was the best piano basher in the county. Ed never practiced. He could play.
The local talent contest held auditions one sunny March afternoon in 1973. Skinny was reading Joyce on some fine SUGAR and it was, of course, making sense. Ed ran in and told his brother he was going to audition. Skinny knew his brother was great and gave him his best advice, “Vary the stride in a horse drawn carriage.” Ed thanked his older brother and ran down the dirt road leading away from the family farm and toward the glory of the performance stage. The audition was already under way. Oinky, the troubled orange juggler, finished his act to thunderous applause. Ed got nervous. His name was called. He went to the piano. He made love to it. Notes seemed to spring out of the wooden frame of the old town piano. Who played like this? He hit fourths and fifths and seemed to coax quarter tones out of the box. It did not impress one on-looker who said, “Gee, this boy is lousy.” Most of the town was in attendance. Ed was racing toward his grand ending. Just then, as Skinny walked into the performance center, Jenny leaped out of the notes Ed was playing. Jenny, the long lost sister, had returned. Ed started crying. Skinny jumped and ran to the stage. He hugged his forgotten sister. Jenny wanted to see mama and papa. Ed dried his tears and finished his performance. The judges talked amongst themselves. They asked the performers who had auditioned that day to gather on the stage. Ed did not make the cut. His playing was too unconventional. Even though he had brought his sister back home through his music the judges did not like his use of augmented chords. The three farm kids looked at each other and decided they hated the farm town and caught a train to the island of OZ.

1 comment:

Chris S said...

I hate the farm too, Barnyard.