 Fire Artistic Director, Rob Melrose, and written by none other than our resident playwright, Andrew Saito. And the play is Stegosaurus, so welcome. She'll read the real title. She'll read the real title. Yes. Andrew has been with us at Cutting Ball for a little over a year now. Today, tomorrow, is the day of end of memory first year. Today is the end of... Happy Birthday. Happy Birthday after. And his play Stegosaurus continues Andrew's enough tradition of blending beautiful poetic language with the bizarre and uncool. As we'll see you later tonight. I don't want to speak really anymore about Stegosaurus because we'll see the play just momentarily and we'll speak for itself much better than I could. Quick reminder, some logistics. Of course, please turn off your phones. If you haven't already, please take it out, turn off your phone. No texting. I was in a play last week and someone was sitting next to me texting and I was really gassed out. It was terrifying. In the case of an emergency, the exit out is just the way you came in. Out those doors down the stairs and out onto Sutter Street. If you like what you see tonight, please come back again next week to touch theater again. We will be having a reading of Ondean directed by Ron Melrose and written by Kat Sherman based on an old European myth of a water mimp. And the night she falls in love with and it's about dreaming and memory and sleep deprivation. That was fantastic. Before we get started, final thanks. We'd like to thank Tide Theatre for lending us this space. And we have this space because we are extending Ubu-Wa. If you have not seen Ubu already, come by. That's why we're here tonight because we have Ubu down in Cunning Ball. We'd like to thank the Fleschalker Foundation for funding the Riscousis Festival and for Gretchen Broceus, our associate producer. Thank you so much for coming, everybody, and without further ado, Stegosaurus by Andrew Saito. For our golden year, a play by Andrew P. Saito. An amateur duck tacadermist who works cleaning up roadkill. Claude, a collector who works as a cartoon dinosaur at birthday parties. Pilot, fallen from the friendly sky. Customer, played by fate. Setting, a small, urban house in the U.S. of A. Time, around now. Scene one, a front yard set up for a tactile. Day glitters like gold. Immaculate. Look at how the sun shines off the car, the satellite dishes. The spots of oil spilled on the road. What do you say, Claude? Gonna make our millions. Shall I be a realist or an optimist? Whatever will map us more. Today's the day. Tomorrow? Tomorrow I'll board that plane to Siberia. We'll get a direct flight, Sesh. All these direct flights are the way back. Can't let those bag handlers lay their mitts on my fries. Thought I was your prize. You are, Claude. I refer to my other prize. They say those arctic glaciers are melting. I need to hurry on up and catch my mimic, otherwise she might get released from her frozen slumber and walk away. Rot is what she do. There will be no rotting. I will work my magic and my mimic will be preserved for all posterity. You really think you'll find one? It was ordained in time and memorial. There is a here-suit dumbo, preserved in some Siberian ice. My name emblazoned across her hide. I've scoured this continent four in one. You scoured this county of bad. I've my bobcat, my coyote, my groundhog. I need to graduate to a new level, my Georgia peach. This mimic will be my masterpiece. My finest execution of taxidermy. Satch. Why don't you set yourself in something a little closer to home? A jacuzzi in our backyard's a python. Why do you always insist on bursting my bubbles? Bubbles must be popped. Same as zits. I told you to stop insulting your cute little satch. But I like popping my zits. I've ruined your face. Keep that up your face and we'll pop market. It's scratched. Cracked, cracked. Cracked magazine. Cracked pipe. Ass cracked. Cracked a Ritz crapper. Animal crappers, triskets and cheez-its and saltines. Hey, Claudia, you know there's a crack in the ceiling. I've been pondering it up late. Have you considered evolving your pondering into some home repair? That's an intriguing idea. But if I were to repair the crack, well that would make it disappear. I'm glad we agreed. And if that crack disappeared, the resulting smooth surface would curtail my imagining. You see, the crack in the ceiling resembles the Amazon River in its shape, and I plant my ass on the linoleum, gaze at the fissured drywall, and say to myself, satch, you are on a South American rainforests far. Keep your eyes peeled for jaguars and anacondas and river dolphins. You're going to kill one of those river flippers, fix up its carcass real nice and sell it at South Abbey. Not South Abbey's. eBay then. Satch. What? Fix the crack. You think we should? I know we should. I suppose you have some wisdom. Get to it then. I will. In a minute. Did you hear me? Yup. Did you forget your lion? A nope. And say it. I'm waiting. Are you getting pulse? You know my motivation? My drive? A spark. That's not my line. Then what is? Hold on. I'm feeling a wiggle. Say your God forsaken lion where I will ram this porcupine up your ass crack. Ass crack. That's it. I'll cock the crack in the ceiling after I scratch my ass. Really, Satch? Darling, when the dilemmas between scratching the itch or patching the crack, I always choose to scratch over patch. Over here than in your pants. This isn't got the itch. Try as I might that itch won't go away. I stick a fork in my ear, jiggle it back and forth, and stick an ice pick up my... You know lately the itching ain't just in my orifices. Lately I'm feeling itch all over. Scratch, scratch it, it won't chew. Is your body itching, Clotty? Bit. I wish I had talons so I could rip off my skin. It's just the heat. It's just shaking your epidermis. I'd like to run around naked for a day. You just rub, you'll scare off any and all customers. I promise to re-rub once they appear. I strip off my britches, rub up and down against a tree. For the good of the world taking Andy Hiss to me nested. Where are they? Medicine cattle. Partest thing I ever did. Lies. I perv believe they're distinct. That crack in the ceiling's looking a little bigger. Cock it. Back to pick something up from the tide, Spencer. Ooh, this is a good one. Hey everyone, this is a good one. Not to be missed. George Bush Pez Dispenser? Okay, I guess. Well, that's not a winning sales pitch. Watch me. Ladies and germs, this George Bush Pez Dispenser is gonna soar up. Ooh, ooh! On the road over there, I see something. I gotta go check it out. Today is your day off, Spencer. It looks like a good one. Let somebody else scrape those streets at Road Hill. It's my job. How I'd bring you home in the bacon. Besides, I might miss out on something spectacular. You know, Cloddy, in the world at Road Hill, everything's one of a kind. Christ, oh, hey, you make things so hard for me. Mosey, Cloddy picks up. Cloddy picks up the Pez Dispenser. You! Yeah, you! Pag sale? Uh-huh. So that means you're selling a bunch of chocolate as you regret buying it. Think you'll recook your investment? Happy birthday, Delilah, you two. Miss, you're sweating something fierce. Heat. Isn't that scratchy? Heat-ratch, I guess. Yeah, heat don't make me scratch. Heat makes me lightweight. The hotter it is, the more relaxed I become. It's like a song of today. Record breaking. That's what the weatherman said. Hotest July fourth ever? Hotest day ever, July fourth or otherwise. Well, you should distract yourself from this inferno by perusing my tags there. I haven't a frippery already, thank you. How about this petrified dinosaur doll? No, thank you. Steven Cigall's solo album? No. The collected novels of William Shatner? You bought that? Read them, too. They're gripping. Entry. Prices are negotiable. What's all this? Masterpieces. Looks like roadkill to me. This is the finest taxidermical work you'll ever find. Yeah, you see that movie Pet Cemetery? Yeah. Yeah, remember that zombie cat? Spit an image. You make these? My spouse. Genius work. Why don't you take some? This Wolverine. A rare beast. $20. He'll scare my daughter. We can file down the insizers. $15. Maybe I'll bring in my Pomeranian. She's on her last legs. Might be nice to have her for posterity. I'll pray for her demise. Just kidding. Take this hamster. Five bucks. Smile from your dashboard. Yeah, it's plentiful enough as it is. Four bucks. I'll think about it. $3.50. I'm going to take a walk around the block. I made Mosey on back. I suppose that's a thanks, but no thanks. Correct a room. Happy 4th, Ben. Happy 4th. Take a personal inquiry. Got to cast a wide net. Mantle. A chia pet. A chia Obama. Chisel your quads with this stationary bike out back. Makes the most ex-bockier bodacious bod in this Mr. T. Bikini. A pity you fools for not having to hand in the value of this Klingon language computer keyboard. Or this intanet that eats my clothes when they're hot. Alive in my mouth is staring. Put myself in a mongrel with that AC. Lock me in a glue somewhere. Plunge me into that arctic sea. Neckers. Frost bite me, baby. Prefer it to this hot ass day. Fluttering the breeze. Breeze? What breeze? Money's floating in the humidity. A fuel of my ascent. But I'm way down with all this extraneous bullshit. This GRE study guide. This meditation pillow. This first aid kit. Jackpot, baby. Record breaking. Record breaking, huh? So what do I say? Well, that record heap will bring us record profits. Fortune is paved the streets, Clotty. And I was there to pick her up. That's just dump out roadkillers from the bag. This here's a windfall. There's an osprey, a quail, some starlets and oreal, a pair of owls. Lovely satch, but... Yeah, Clotty? Criddles are only big as deeper in the hole. All that turpentine, little guzzle. These'll sell light and quick. Look here. Now I've got me a falcon, a dove, half a dozen sparrows. Haven't even been run over yet. Be in debt. It's their occupation. Take a look at this flamingo. Dad is an ouch. Beaks is called my hands. Scalders. Scorcher. Deemer. Sizzler. Blazer. Blazer up. Broiler. Broiler. Brocer. A roaster. A toaster. Today's a toaster oven dialed up high. Bosters. My briefs. My boxers and my briefs. My go-to-man knows, my real. You are. Briefly. What kind of good satch about the heat? The heat. Oh, the heat. My shirt's soaked. My bra. My pants. My sweat has breached the fiber of my down. Why do you go on jeans? I like jeans. The grats wilt toward brittleness. So? The sweat sizzles into steam on my skin. So? The windows warm and so damn hot. But these jeans are snazzy, Clodden. The door-dash-dash. They can't be snazzy. My friends say they're snazzy. Friends. This here, Armadillo, and this, um... What do you think this was before it met God in a tire tread? Satch. You grow tired of living amidst your gut and stuffed menagerie. My taxidermy is museum quality. These critters look more alive than when they lived. Who else in the world can boast such treasures? You mean flat and fauna and plated with a bicycle pump? No one. Mark my word, Cloddy. One day all my taxidermy will be sold to the Smithsonian. And if they don't fight? Then I will open my own Smithsonian. But it will be called the Satch-Sonian. There will be one in every city between a wax museum and Ripley's, believe it or not. A franchise I will follow. And we will be rich. Finally buy that jacuzzi. Ten of them. Twenty. One hundred if you want. Ah. Ah, the very thought makes me faint. One hundred jacuzzi's colonizing my backyard. They'll have to be stacked. One on top of the other. I'm gonna need a long ladder to get inside. I'm soaking in a hot tub. Twenty stories high. I'm with a Mai Tai. And a daiquiri. I'm wanting each hand. As I turn my nose up on the world below. That's gonna require a lot of dough. No. It needs work. We'll be on dark grass. The optimistic, Claudie. Reach for the stars. Reach for the stars when quicksand's satch. And that's where we're in. It sucks and it sucks and it won't let go. Quicksand? The bills. The elusive dreams. You've got a plan, Claudie, believe it or not. Coming to buy your tax at Ernie's Satch. No one even wants to look. That won't climb up your fortunes. You just have to bury your routine, Claudie. Put more zest into your pitch. Zest? How? Just watch. Weald magic and medieval might with these dungeons and dragons puted pure miniatures. Wait, why are we getting rid of these? You've never painted them. I will. I swear. Zatch. Fine, but how do I sell them? And spanking new these vintage wizards and trolls be the raddest kid on your block. And next, we have a... Even their right mind would buy a pop gun. It is. Lies. Delude yourself with your mods. It shoots nothing. Not bullets, not buckshot, not even water. Just this stupid cork on a string that couldn't even cripple a fly. Zatch shoots the gun. Pop. A bald eagle falls from the sky and lands on the ground there. Then another, then another. Soon it rains the bald eagle. Skies fall. Just the things in it. It's raining. It's pouring. Zatch dances at the eagle's paw. Come on, Clotty! What the hell? They dance at the eagle's paw. It's raining. It's pouring. It falls into a scratch. It took the last porn. Well, get some of her. When I'm done scratching. She can't wait that long. These bald eagles. They're no longer long. You know what this means? My yard made pretty. I'm gonna quit my job. It's a clear sign from above. With this bounty, I must devote myself to my art form full-time. Full-time? Overtime, baby. And your job? This bounty, I don't need roadkill. But those dollars, your paycheck. Clotty, why settle for dollars when diamonds have cascaded upon us? Diamonds. The birds. They're dead! Exactly! Quit your job. I'm quitting mine. Go right ahead. Vultures cry in awe. Vultures. They circle above. Vultures scum. These eagles are mine, you hear? Come any closer now. Clotty, they're not listening. Don't speak English. Give me that lightsaber. Go whack them with it. Need a phone. They don't know that. Dark vultures. Touche. All that jazz. We better grab my eagles and duck for cover. Trash them birds and run them doors. The vultures flying off. Bitches. Come back to enter the birds and the large pool box. What'd you do? Unleashed my charm. You gonna taxidermy all those eagles out here? Howard's dead. Call about it? I will. It would be a good idea. It would. We'll get to it. Get to what? You're objective. It's my objective. But you're seeking the target of your pursuit. I'm not sure. You better figure it out. Why? Drive the plate forward if you pursue it. Pursuit what? You're objective. I'm objective. I'm not. I'm not. I'm not. I'm not. I'm not. I'm not. I'm not. I'm not. I'm not. I'm not. I'm not. I'm not. I'm not. I'm not. I'm not. I'm not. I'm not. I'm not. I'm not. I'm not. I'm not. I'm not. I'm not. I'm not. I'm not. I'm not. I'm not. I'm not. I'm not. I'm not. I'm not. I'm not. I'm not. I'm not. I'm not. I'm not. I'm not. I'm not. I'm not. I'm not. I'm not. I'm not. I'm not. I'm not. I feel so close to nature, sinking my hands in the bowels of the blood. I almost feel like I've become a king. That's both the evil flesh and innards onto the sidewalk. Turpentine. Here. Firewater. Take it. Glass eyes. Uh, there's some googly eyes. Glass ones they're all out of. I guess they'll be accepted. Like Sarah Naker. Like a customer entered. Might you sell you this newly minted bald eagle? Feathers make me sneeze. Might you mind if I... Bought some of these highly coveted collectibles from our tag sale? Why not at all? Today is your lucky day. I'm afraid people those won't say to my hankering, may I please have that piece of meat that's grilling on your sidewalk? That? I'll pay you for it. Hey, why you insist? How much are you holding? For five hundred. Seventeen. Thirty-four cents. One buttercup is business. What are you doing? Why don't you just buy a hot dog at the Circle K? Circle K has been ransacked. All that's left are candy wrappers and coffee grounds. You have me warming. How much you got left? Gave you all my cash. Tough kitty. I guess I have my wedding ring. Cloddy. Second customer, top of the ring. Cloddy, top of the eagle ring. Oh, thank you. Thank you! Skin of the beast, stuff in the form, so shut the skin, repeat. Skin of the beast, stuff in the form, so shut the skin, repeat. Skin of the beast, stuff in the form, so shut the skin. What has it? Your grilling chicken. Eagle. Pay up. I suppose I'll do. You're getting a steal, you know. Skin of the beast, stuff in the form, so shut. Forget about the stuffing and sewing. It's all about liberating that flush. Skin of the beast, skin of the beast, skin of sex, skin of sex. Skinning Cloddy, I'm skinning as best as I can. Mind you, take a gold inglet for that poultry. Me, my guest. Oh, I'm so damn hungry. But I ain't got nothing but this stack of euros. I'd not all ever be going there again with all those grounded plans. Let's take a look. May I, huh? Being some diamond cufflings. Give it. Throw an end to an eggplant, exchanging cash and riches for eagle ring. Skin the beast. Thank you very much. Skin the beast. Enjoy your meal. Skin the beast. Come back for seconds if you'd like. Well, that's all of them. That's it? That was a ton. My wrists are aching and my fingers are numb. Let's head in. And we've got a yard full of stuff to sell. Well, that bling you're wearing, you don't know when to say enough. Cloddy arranged the textile item. Hey, don't you have work? I told you I'm quitting. Starting today. You need to give notice. They'll notice if I don't show. That ain't right, Cloddy. All those little kids. You're the first bottle cap to be happy. But you're the star attraction. The birthday girl's a star attraction. A staggy wagosaurus themed birthday party without sticking with the sorrows. He can use their imagination. You'll break their heart. You'll make things so hard-formed. Satch picks up two pieces of patchwork every week. He animates them. Satch, remember the night we met? At the Grubin in the 70s party? How could I forget, Cloddy? I'm stressed to share. You looked sizzling. A sizzling skillet you were. And you were so sexy dressed as sunny bono. Ah, Cloddy, you're making me blush. You're blushing in conjures of song in my esophagus. Will you sing it with me, Satch? Oh, Cloddy, I thought you'd never ask. They say we're young and we don't know. We won't find out until we grow. Well, I don't know if it's all true because you got me and, baby, I got you, babe. I got you, babe. I got you, babe. Holy to me. You knew what was coming. It gets me every time, though. Satch, I'll never understand your sexual attraction to a cartoon dinosaur. Satch, it's like Bugs Bunny and drag, only prehistoric. I love how that long, beautiful tail drags on the floor. In reality, a stegosaurus and this tail hovered in the air for balance, like a cat. Says who? Paleontology people. Well, how do they know? They're smart. Well, my smarts say the dragon is superior to hovering, so drag that tail around, baby. Swish it. Sash it. Can we do that up here? For the eyes of the world? Everyone in no one around? Hey, Pottie, you hear me? I said, ain't no one around. So go on. Probably someone's BBQ. Come on, baby. Pottie's wishes are such a... Ouch. I don't think you can get any hotter around here. You make my heart vault pose, baby. Hey, don't take your suit off. Don't stop. Please don't stop. Sash it. Limply. Limply? Limply? Like a fossil. You better not fossilize on me, Claudie. Stegosaurus aren't life support. I'll defibrillate you. Just zip up that costume, put on the mask. The hotness, Sash. Here's the hotness, Claudie. The royal hotness. There are three. Go on. Put on your mask, please. And that will please you. Pottie puts on the Stegosaurus mask and squishes. Batch wraps up against Claudie. Cooking vulgar. His love. Out here in the yard. Uncooshed is what it is. It's like a little peep show. Take it inside. No Stegi for Sash. Sash loves Stegi. Poor Nicky late. Yes ma'am. Being too. Inside the house. Hackaderm heads are mounted on walls. They are of dubious quality and generally a small animal. Oh, the things that happen behind closed doors. You're going to make me terry, Sash. You weren't even wanting to go to that party. Now come on, shake that tail, Stegi. Swish those spikes. Shake, swish, shake, swish, shake, swish. The children's television show. I know. Very melancholy when Claudie goes away. Try the light you wish. Power's still dead. Make the call. Oh well. Batch arranges the taxiderms' animals into a unique title. It's all this dust coating your coats and your visages. Dust flings to everything. To the couch, to the television, to the taxidermy. Dust coats the world. Everything becomes dust. I lick a clipped fingernail onto the linoleum. It gets swept up with the particles of dirt and the particles of skin. The particles of dust. I pluck a hair from my noggin. I denoggin the follicle. It falls to the floor. I forget about it. We forget about dust. We forget to mow the lawn. We forget to change the kitty litter. We forget to throw the Christmas tree until noon. It appears to be decked in snow by then. But then as he lifted poof, a dust storm. And then the whole house is covered in dust. The world. Shoot, dust. Shoot. Wait. So they say. Dust to dust. It's shoeing the dust, shoeing myself. If I shoe off the dust, does that mean I harbor fantasies of self-annihilation? If I buy a dust buster, is that really a revolver to my head? Should I banish cleaning products from my abode? Is that why we've fallen behind as a species? Because we quarantine ourselves from bacteria and dust mites. Are germs, in fact, responsible for Beethoven's 9th and Theory of Relativity and every other act of human genius? What is it like to have a tail? Six-legged? A hundred-legged? What does it feel like to spin a web? To breathe through gills? To grow from a tadpole into a toad? How does it feel to incubate your offspring in your mouth? What is it like to have wings? Grows of a taciturn bird. It falls stud on the floor. Ladies and gentlemen, the law of gravity. That's what you aliens risk with those wings. Weep by peels, lowly landlocked slugs. Look what we can do. Ladies and gentlemen, the law of gravity. Throws himself onto the floor. Defied. Damn. Ladies and gentlemen, the law of gravity. Throws himself onto the floor. Defied. Damn. Damn. Lower too hard for your own good. Okay, some pads. Ladies and gentlemen, the law of gravity. Throws himself onto the floor. Defied. That's what you try to get out of it, can't you? My body's all sore now. There's mold on that ceiling. Mold dust, second cousin. Where you've got one, the other lurks near. I see you mold, crouching in that corner up there. You look rather like Einstein. Or Hendricks. Or Angela Davis. Someone with cool hair. Electric hair. If Einstein was here, I'd plug my appliances into his row. I'd blow dry my hair, make coffee, and vacuum all at once. That mold might become an attraction. The centerpiece of my museum. A museum within a museum. Like a Russian doll. Spot of Ultron nestled inside the Saxonian Hall of Acidermia. Now that's what I'm talking about. One day, the Saxonian will house my mammoth cart back from Siberia. People will pay to see that mammoth even more to eat it. Mammoth steak. Mammoth burgers. Mammoth tacos. Mammoth pizza. Chili con mamoth. Pecini al mamofolonece. Damn, I'm hungry. Any evil meat left? What happened to the birthday party? The party was there. The house was empty. All the houses looked empty. That way, too. I guess everyone's left town for the holidays. So? I hope you'll get paid. Well, those panties ain't nothing to fret about. Cause I got my blade. One of the richest gritches the customer has left. Call me. Please. Please. Call me. Cro fat. Double please. Call me Priscilla, queen of the desert. This place is going to become a desert. I know. Henty priscilla, off the beat. What are you clutching in your hand? A bulb. From the garden. Nutrition. You just gotta pop this into your mouth. Sauteed with garlic, tarragon, cayenne pepper, of course. Garlic's gone, baby. Are you trying to prove up weeping with your words? Think garlic's have since gone and heartbreak me? Oh no, I can deal with that garlic. How you gonna do without power? You didn't call yet? Phone's dead. Damn, electric stove? Told you we should have bought a gas one. Oh well, we didn't. A lot of things we didn't do. Never blew in a hot air balloon. Never made a gingerbread house. Never finished clan at a cave fair? Don't worry. Started at five. It's a bug you never learned to roller skate. Never got that cavity taken care of. Hey, maybe we should pause the play. Pause it. Give us some time to mollify our regrets. Tie up loose ends and such. If we did that, I could finally finish the Cub Scouts. But how will we accomplish that to be putting things on pause? It'll be difficult. This play is moving at warp speed and all. I'll try to remote. This little light isn't blinking when I press the button. Batteries are probably dead. I suspect there aren't any more. You suspect correct. I'll just eat my bulb then. Where's that knife? It's cracked in the ceiling, Rowan. You're obsessed with that crack. It looks like the Mississippi now. Who would my surface be smooth? Uninterrupted. Go fill it in. You bought a caulk. Grape gnaw. Let me talk about grape gnaw. I got distracted by the ice cream truck that day. Sorry you can't cook and eat, John. Food's better for you raw. Cleaner than not. So that's not food. Bet you're jealous. With my mouth full of air? My jealousy is withered up. It's hatched. Do you hear something? It's just the wax in your ears doing slow gymnastics. Hey, how does that bulb taste? Like nirvana. Nirvana, my ass. Give me a taste. Uh-uh. A nipple. Sorry you. A morsel. Dig up your own damn bulb. Fine. I'll get to it. In a minute. When I'm good at... Attach knives to the bulb from crime. I'll kick your shit. I'll get your hair. Don't you dare play dirty. I slam my knee where the sun never shows. You're gonna be the one who suffers from that. I break those benefits in years. And you never will. Ow, quit popping my ears. Stop twisting my nipples. No, you're tugging on my looves. Enough, stop with my toes. He's pinching my looves. Knock off a flick of my nose hairs. You're blowing my eyes. That was self-defense. Your booger flinging calls for... any relationship you might be in. Don't reciprocate anything. Anything, but... I gave you steady... Didn't hold back. I just charged two miles through the sweltering air wearing a ton of styrofoam and felt it itching my ass off. I earned my treats. You can't massage your feet. You will. It was so hard for me. Claudia rips off the steady contract. She pummeled the kicker. She tried to defecate in the head. Nothing to do with it. Badge enters wearing a French made outfit. Potty whistled. Badge cleans and dusts the house making very provocative poses. No water coming. It takes liquids and condiments from the fridge to serve them on the couch. Potty falls on the floor and cracking up. Badge coughs the potty and gives a mess. What's wrong? Said you're done. Badge kneels still. What's wrong? And you said you don't like me to do that even though it makes me laugh. Would you like a hug? I think you would. I think you'd like a big dry normal. Wash yourself off. Please go shower. Please take a shower satch. I am hungry. Lick yourself. Scratch all the liquid that's on you. Badge, where are those bumps on your skin? What bumps? On your chest. On your back. I don't see anything. There are bumps all over you. I keep my skin impeccable. Come on. Is that the itching we've been feeling? Don't blame me for your itching. Satch, let me get a closer look. It's probably a rash from all that crap you hurled on me. This ain't no rash I've ever seen. Why didn't you notice when I was dancing? You blind hid me with your moves. That's sweet. Those bumps hurt when I poke them. Not really. These all just go away on my own. That's what usually happens. Put up some cortisone on that to speed it along. Even a scar will fade eventually, mostly after ignoring it for a few years. A loud crash. An airline pilot falls through the roof. Through the floor. Better call a roofer. Well, what's the phones based? The floorer, too. Not the foam floor. When only you needed replacing long ago. The hole in the floor mirrors the hole up through the roof. Get the sign there. Right here. What? Shhh. Oooh. Get them now. Let me get the gun. I'm not getting these rounds. There are none. I meant to get the rounds for my buck cock. Rolling pin at least. Take this, Clyde. How are you going to arm me with a spatula and give yourself a rolling pin? See, the metal is a bendy sword. There's a man down there. We should lift him out. Don't be hasty. He might attack us. We should leave him down there. Cruel. No. It's time for the old key pose. Fest. Well. Let's get to it. What are you doing? Stretching. One. Two. Three. And four. And two. And two. And three. And four. Up and easy now. Set him down. They let the pilot out of the hole. Damn. He's a pretzler. He looks broken. Those arms and legs. Cordy. Hello. Slap him. Excuse me. He's oxygen flowing. Slap his face. Like this. Slap his lap of the pilot. Birds of a feather. Birds of a feather. Birds of one feather. One feather because they've all been plucked. They squabble over said solitary moon. They needed to fly. Fly. And the sky shines the face of God. I see it. The face of God. Up there. Smiles. That smile spreads cheer across the earth. That smile. What does God use for dental floss? Who's God's dental provider? Do you suppose God's ever had cavities? What in black of a horse could decay one of God's teeth? Stumps me. Well, the devil, maybe. You think? The devil? If we use God casting an inferno. Well, maybe the devil in hoots with the ghost of Osama bin Laden. Maybe the devil allied with the ghost of bin Laden and the ghost of Hitler and Darth Vader before he turns to good at the end of the return of the Jedi. Maybe all of them together, you think? What's mean? Sorry, chat. This is a waterless house. You. Your skin. What about my skin? Your tumors. You're covered with them. And one, two, three. My, my. You're a girl. Well, call the doctor. Call the nurse. Call the surgeon and the herbalist and the anesthesiologist. Call the craniosacralis and the psychic, too. Hold your horses, Sam. But these are tumors, Claudia. I see them. They're cancer. Let's not leak to conclusion. They look like cancer to me. Are they cancerous? Are they not? Are they malignant? Are they benign? So many questions to answer before action can be entertained. For example, how can we call anyone medical when our telephone's comfortable? Divine will, Alas. Hey, where you come from anyway? We'll do a 10 to that crack. The captain goes down with the ship trail. A rule of nature that I screw nature. Are you confessing to bestial love nature? Why does your mind always jump to the bottom, fucking? He couldn't tap to treat me. I'm jumping ship. With a parachute? The only one pushed passengers out of the way. With a pilot and he let passengers plummet to their deck? Oh, that's fucked up. If you don't look after yourself. I want to shoot head. That's God for you. What God? Karma, I'm Hindu. You have a mid-air collision? Nope. Birds nested in the propellers? No. Forgot to refuel? Plenty fuel. Ignited. Bleed. I told you. Record breaking. Everything poisoned. The sea is boiling. The tree is burning. A flame you need to. Yes. I need to watch. Oh, should I get my binocs? Watch out. It's a kind of warning. Should we find out what it is? Sure. Build beams. The dying and the burning and the rising. Yes, yes. Hold on. You've... Door it is. Please. Cleaning. Nope. I mean, nope. Well, it's Einstein up there. Einstein. Don't you see him? Looks more like Don King to me. You're going to sell admission either way. The mold is moving its nails down the wall. Made of packed with gravity. It defies gravity as well. It spreads across the ceiling. Slowly, slowly, imperceptible, almost amazing. But you notice when you're a shattered heap on the floor. Your walls need a new coat of paint. I am hungry. Suck your thumb. That won't help. Each of them. The mold descends. The dust. The sun. The body. What? My stomach is rumbling. Mine too, Seth. Mine too. The mold descends. Slowly. Like a mountain's movement. The spores flutter, seduce my gravity. I feel the spores descend upon my skin. They tendril microscopically into my dermis. Given time, a cotton haze will enshroud my organism. I will be a fungal cloud, creature mold made into man. Those white filaments will penetrate my hippocampus. They will bring clarity at last. Last words. This is amusing. Coming. Dead breath. The pilot dies. Real shaming croaked. Quite bad. Could have given me an airline discount. The Siberia. Mammoth land. Bring on the thought. Bring on the thought. Buy a ticket. We got the dough. A swell idea, Claudie. You say so. Real swell idea. Swell. Real swell. Should walk out that door, Moseon. Ticket counter. I'll get a move on once the heat dies down. Sooner or later, I'll have us a good rain. Someone should write that in. Maybe someone should write your ass out the door. Maybe write in a plumber or an electrician. That's an idea. Someone should tell it to someone. Someone should. In a bit. That. Fly. I was being on that answer. A fly's playing tribute. In a disrespectful manner. We should probably do something. Or swap the fly. Indeed, we should. Where's the fly's water? In the store. Scene three. Claudie is fat, fit in a jacuzzi. It occupies the whole of the ground. There are also a covered platter and empty glasses. Finally got you jacuzzi, Claudie. You doubting all these years? You have surmounted the insurmountable. You have authored the most splendiferous piece of taffodermy of your entire career. Actually, look at what you're supposed to do. Why, thank you, Levy. That reveals the pilot's taffodermy. Yeah. Pity all those rounded planes. Siberia, I guess, will never set my feet on the beat. Plane the heat. And the snow. Rain, hurricane. Right as I finally bought my ticket. Rare specimen that airline pilot. Almost in extinct. We should call 7E. Don't you mean eBay? 7E. You graduated to a new level of satch? Where's the phone? Phone's dead, Claudie. Snow. Yeah. We should fix that. We should. Claudie writes a note and then tides it to attack the bird's bird. Sevenies. Some were in New York, I guess. When you throw the bird, it falls to the floor. So much for my carrier pigeon. I'm hungry. Is there any equal meatless? Hold out. There's other meat. You've worked plenty. You've watched plenty. Apparently, you haven't. Claudie makes an esteemed gesture. The fact is fondly kind. Claudie responds in kind. But they engage in a war of esteemed gestures. Damn, it's wrong. Now where's the meat? Voila. Claudie uncovers the platter. There's a pile of meat. My goodness. That. Would you do the honor of saying grace? Thank you for this bounty. Thank you for the accident of nature that brought it to our hands. And soon, we'll be able to enjoy the nature that brought it to our hands. And soon, our gullets. This meal will nourish and fortify. May we use strength that bequeaths us. Bada-boom bada-bing. Grace. Awfully generous of the pilot to falter our roof and die in our kitchen. The shank he was. I eat this meat. If I adjust it, it becomes my meat. The pilot's muscle will become my muscle. His arms will incorporate into my arms. Does that mean I will inherit his thoughts? His secrets, his sins? Don't think about that. Just enjoy. You're so wise. A real pity we never learned his name. You know, Claudie, these scraped together scraps should be eating out. Wolfgang buck, suck my... You civilized language at the dinner table with me. We got any wine to accompany this feast? No wine. What about water? Stick it, Phil's sterile. You can lick some of the sticky thing in the fridge. You just pee in my glass. That's gross. So is the playwright. It's true of words. Flash starts to get out of this coop. Where are you headed? If I hold up this wine glass under the sky, maybe I'll catch a few droplets. Droplets of what? Rain. Long time since it rained. Long time, indeed. Shall I do a rain dance? Seriously? You never know? Flash does a rain dance. Nothing doing. I had some goddamn rain into this stupid play. Right now, my peppermint and cream don't burst into anything. You know, these tumors are shaped kind of like apples. Fruit is the hell of this dessert. He's about to cut off his own tumor. That hurt? It stings sweetly. Bon appetit. They eat the tumor. Stop this. We just got a few chewing. Why? With that? I do believe the only thing that would make me happier is if you could sing my favorite song. I'm a tire in that pack. Or just this once. It'll bring a smile on my cheeks. Only if you join in. Rain to rain. It's not very exciting like that water jet. End of play. This festival, if you want to stick around in a couple of minutes we're going to have a little conversation about the play. We will also have some wine, if you like. Otherwise, thank you so much for coming. Tell your friends about Risk of This. Next week we have Ondine, same spot right here. And of course, Ubu Wah is still running for one more full week in our theater. So thank you so much. Have a good night. And this cast performs again tomorrow night at the same time. Absolutely. Tell your friends. You didn't get enough. Just get right back in. Some of us are communicating coming up very seriously as well. So many plugs! I know, so many plugs. Thank you so much. We're going to have a conversation in a couple of minutes. Have a good night. Thank you.