Holy cowabunga, Jeff, Erin and I will be performing at the Austin Video Bee Extravaganza # 3 next Friday (check out the jpeg at the top of the post). In honor of this most amazing wacky wild occurrence, I'm posting a play I wrote that Erin and I will do live at the event (Jeff will be narrating). Hope you guys can make it out to the show.
ps. Jeff, Erin and I will be working on some fun new stuff tomorrow, so keep a look out as this blog explodes not unlike a cheese danish dropped thirty stories from you grandfather's apartment window
A brief history of the US Presidency in three acts
Hades, god of the underworld, calls forth George Washington into his lair.
Pluto: “Georgie-boy, what’s the haps? How’s that country of yours doing?”
George Washington: “I dunno’. S’just, it was supposed to be cool. You know, down with the king, up with the people, all that shit. Pursuit of happiness? …today? Eh.”
H: “Well, come on. It didn’t really start that way did it.”
GW: Agitated. “Alright, fine. But it wasn’t supposed to suck.”
H: “Sure, sure. A lot of stuff sucks these days, though.”
GW: “Well, honestly, things have always kind of sucked.”
End Act I
JFK and Nixon are hanging out together in a whore house, shooting craps.
JFK: Tosses dice. “Uhh…what’s the matter, Nixy? You’re a little glum, chum.”
Nixon: “What the fuck...I hate commies. I hate catholics too. No offense Johnnie.”
JFK: “None taken you prick. I mean, who love commies anyway? Their stinking missiles just laying around. Their beards. S’no good.” At this, Nixon feels his five o’clock shadow and nods his head.
A whore walks by and taps JFK on the shoulder, beckoning him to follow.
JFK: “Oh oh oh, I’d love to take her up the
N: Chuckling, “Course I do, bastard.”
JFK: “You really want to know what I love about women?” The two trade silence as Nixon ponders. “Everything. Later chum.”
JFK gets up and follows the woman.
N: “Well go have fun then.”
JFK recedes from view.
N: “Presidential pretty boy.” Nixon tosses dice. “…ass.”
End Act II
George W. Bush stands before a bathroom mirror, practicing a speech for his father.
W: “Now, listen up, Daddy. I wanna’ be president. I wanna be president real bad.”
W stops and looks closely into mirror, pressing fingers upon his skin. He shakes his head negatively.
W: “No no no, Dubya! That just ain’t gonna’ do it. Gotta’ be more officialating. More commanding-like.” He clears his throat and straightens his shoulders. “Daddy, I’m ‘onna be president. I need to be president. The people…want me.” He pauses, pleased with himself. “Yeah. Just like that.” He rubs his hands together.
Bill Clinton pops his head into the bathroom.
W: “Uh…that tie? Yeah, sure, go ahead on. Oh, and tell Laura to send in a sandwich. A presidential sandwich. Yeah. That sound about right.”
End Act III