Wednesday, June 02, 2004
An Pound Of Flesh plus CRV
Act II, Scene XVI: Beside the Mandan Tree (filed Friday, 3rd District Court of Appeals), in the gloaming.
[The Lincoln whose headlights have been on all this time peeks from the wings and motions to its owner. Embarrassed, the owner tosses his keys onstage wrapped in a 50. His date (3-time IBF boxing champ Torreo "u-UH-glee!" Garza) is not impressed and weeps softly to himself. The Lincoln exits with a respectfully played "toot toot" of its horn. Meanwhile, a large jar of mayonnaise has been applying aloe vera to its label. It cringes in pain having overslept in the Portuguese sun. A knock on the door. The stagehands begrudgingly lumber onstage to construct one.]
Not in the [expletive deleted] script. Not in the script.
LOUIE (shamelessly playing to the audience)
We suffer for our art, Lou. We really do. Hey, there's my Mom! Hi Mom!
Grab a hammer Louie and if you're ma is handy, she can work the sander.
Take it easy fellas, take it easy. Hey, I said take it [expletive deleted] easy!
[The other two stagehands go silently and pleasantly about their business]
LOU (his rage increasing, his pants retreating)
Yo, I told you [expletive deleted] [expletive deleted] to take it [expletive deleted] easy!
How's yer ma with a plane, Louie. We sure could use a solid planer.
LOUIE (going hoarse as he screams to the balcony)
Well, it may be the life that we've chosen, but I wouldn't have it any other way. It's simple, plain living and hard work. It calms my nerves and puts my mind at peaceful ease.
[LOUIS collapses out of exhaustion, breathless. The others drag him off to thunderous applause. Another knock. The mayonnaise jar answers the pile of wood and nails. It giggles when a pajama-clad wash basin prances in. The wash basin throws Jolly Rancher brand hard candies into the audience who collectively shriek, groping and clawing their way for the exit.]
It is by thine good graces that I have found what was the very essence of mine own soul. Oh, but for the gruesome incident involving the cole slaw recipe --a mere ruse to disguise the appalling mustard stench emanating from the egg salad-- I too would be as free as the proverbial ethers to skip merrily. But alas, 'twill not be so.
[The wash basin is indelicately hoisted into the rafters and 3 dozen migrating geese swarm in tearing at the seat cushions]
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