Lights.  We are in a café with a bar.  It may be a Weimar-era Cajun/Dada Cabaret complete with a stage built to resemble a wharf, but that is not necessary.  There is a bartender, some people at the bar, a waiter and a girl with a tray of cheese.
An emcee enters as the opening music plays.

RORKE:  The Laughing Cow.

[Spotlight on a person in a cow costume, laughing.]

RORKE:  Willkommen, bienvenue, welcome.  Welcome, one and all, to The Laughing
Cow…[The Cow laughs.]…where we hope to entertain you, or at least offer you a
chance to sit down and rest while your pants are being cleaned and pressed.
 
THE CHEESE GIRL:  Cheese!  Cheese!
 
RORKE:  Now, here at The Laughing Cow…[The Cow laughs.]  our specialty is cheese.

THE WAITER:  Dada.

RORKE:  That’s right—Cheese and Dada.

THE BARTENDER:  Da.

RORKE:  Da?

THE BARTENDER:  Da.

RORKE:  Da.

THE BARTENDER:  Right.

RORKE:  Cheese and Da.

THE BARTENDER:  Da.

RORKE:  Dada?

THE BARTENDER:  Da.

THE CHEESE GIRL:  Cheese anyone?

RORKE:  Is it Da or Dada?
THE BARTENDER:  It’s Dadada.

RORKE:  Dadada?

THE BARTENDER:  Right.  The owners of The Laughing Cow…[The Cow laughs.]
 didn’t want to infringe on Tristan Tzara’s copyright privileges.

THE CHEESEGIRL:  Isn’t Tristan Tzara dead?

[Rorke snaps his fingers and a minion (or an ASM) appears with a book.  Rorke reads.]

RORKE:  Yes, Tristan Tzara is dead.

THE WAITER:  Tristan Tzara is dead.

THE BARTENDER:  Tristan Tzara is dead.

[A paperboy enters.]

PAPERBOY:  Extra! Extra! Read all about it!  Tristan Tzara dead!  Cheese prices
 plummet in Zurich!  President to address the nation on the radio tonight!

[Three detectives burst into the scene.]

O’NEILL:  Alright boys, this is a raid.    Federal officers.  I’m Agent O’Neill of the
 Treasury department.  These are detectives Mahoney and Spackle.

[Spackle heads to the bar.]

THE BARTENDER:  Can I get you a drink, officer?

O’NEILL:  No, but you can tell me who killed Tristan Tzara.

THE CHEESEGIRL:  Cheese?

RORKE:  Tristan Tzara is dead.

THE WAITER:  Tristan Tzara is dead.

PAPERBOY:  Extra!  Extra!  Tristan Tzara dead!  Feds spread dragnet for killers!

MAHONEY [to Rorke]: Where were you last night?

RORKE:  Not killing Tristan Tzara.

THE CHEESEGIRL:  Cheese?
THE WAITER:  Tristan Tzara is dead.

THE BARTENDER:  Tristan Tzara is dead.

PAPERBOY:  Extra! Extra!  Tristan Tzara dead!  Cabaret host suspected!

O’NEILL:  How do you know you didn’t kill Tristan Tzara?

RORKE:  I didn’t know he was dead until I read about it a few minutes ago.

MAHONEY:  You read about Tristan Tzara’s death?

THE CHEESEGIRL:  Cheese?

THE WAITER:  Tristan Tzara is dead.

THE BARTENDER:  Tristan Tzara is dead.

PAPERBOY:  Extra!  Extra!  Tristan Tzara murdered!  Death foretold by Nostradamus!

O’NEILL:  What do you know about the deceased?

RORKE:  Tristan Tzara is dead.

THE WAITER:  Tristan Tzara is dead.

THE BARTENDER:  Tristan Tzara is dead.

PAPERBOY:  Extra! Extra!  Tristan Tzara found dead!  Laughing Cow patrons grilled!

MAHONEY:  Let’s see if you stick to that story in the clink, tough guy.

O’NEILL:  Alright Mahoney!  Calm down!  We’ll be back later.  I wouldn’t leave town
 if I were you.

[The detectives start to leave.]

THE BARTENDER:  Say officer—

O’NEILL:  Call me Gene.

THE BARTENDER:  I don’t suppose you saw an ice truck when you were coming in.
 I’m expecting a delivery.

[O’Neill gestures to Mahoney who gestures to Spackle.  Spackle responds to Mahoney who responds back to O’Neill.]
O’NEILL:  The Iceman’s coming.  Have a good evening.  Sorry for any inconvenience.

[The detectives exit.]

RORKE:  As you can see there’s never a dull moment here at The Laughing Cow…

[The Cow laughs.]

RORKE:  So sit back and enjoy some cheese while we serve up the Dadada.

[Blackout.]
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

The Pants of the Masters

The Waiter gets up onto the stage.  He motions to some people offstage.
They enter with a collection of pants in some sort of display.

THE WAITER:  These are the pants of the masters.
 These pants once contained the rumps of the masters.
As you can see, the masters had sizeable rump areas.
Today the pants of the masters are empty.  The masters are gone.
Only these empty pants remain to remind us of the fat asses of the masters.
Great people.  Large pants.
People die…their pants go on forever.
Alexander the Great?  Socrates?  Plato?  Aristotle?
They didn’t even wear pants.
What does that say about them?
All their great achievements, the great achievements of Greece, of Rome –
All of their philosophy, their art, their architecture, their plumbing –
All of this was done without pants.
Ridiculous.  Utterly ridiculous.
But it raises an interesting question, because you’d think that with all that “thinking” one of them would have come up with an idea for pants.
I mean, Athens isn’t exactly Bora Bora in late December.  It can get quite nippy.
Yet the “great” philosophers, the great “thinkers” of Western civilization never gave a thought to wearing pants.
Idiots.

[Blackout.]
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Dada 1

Rorke enters.  The bar is still stocked with characters.

RORKE:  The Laughing Cow.

[The Cow laughs.]

THE BARTENDER:  Did you know that James Joyce was blind?

RORKE:  So was Milton.

THE CHEESEGIRL:  So is Ray Charles.

CRAZY:  Crazy.

SEXY:  Sexy.

COOL:  Cool.

THE CHEESEGIRL:  Isn’t James Joyce dead?

THE WAITER:  James Joyce is dead.

THE BARTENDER:  James Joyce is dead.

RORKE:  James Joyce is dead.

THE CHEESEGIRL:  Tristan Tzara is dead.

THE BARTENDER:  Tristan Tzara is dead.

RORKE:  Tristan Tzara is dead.

PAPERBOY:  Extra!  Extra!  Double murder!  Joyce and Tzara found dead!

CRAZY:  Crazy.

SEXY:   Sexy.

COOL:  Cool.

[The Detectives burst in.]

O’NEILL:  Alright, nobody move.  This is a raid.  I’m Agent O’Neill of the Treasury
 Department.
CRAZY:  Crazy.

SEXY:  Sexy.

COOL:  Cool.

MAHONEY:  What do you know about the death of James Joyce?

RORKE:  It must have been horrible.  I hear they blinded him first.

MAHONEY:  How did you know that?

RORKE:  I read it somewhere.

O’NEILL:  This must be some book.

RORKE:  It may have been in the newspapers.  They’re very thorough.

MAHONEY:  Maybe you wanna come downtown and say that.

O’NEILL:  Alright Mahoney, there’s no need to get rough.

MAHONEY:  James Joyce is dead, doesn’t that mean anything to you?

RORKE:  James Joyce was blind.

THE CHEESEGIRL:  So is Ray Charles.

CRAZY:  Crazy.

SEXY:  Sexy.

COOL: Cool.

THE WAITER:  Tristan Tzara is dead.

THE BARTENDER:  Tristan Tzara is dead.

RORKE:  Tristan Tzara is dead.

PAPERBOY:  Extra!  Extra!  Horrible scene!  Tzara and Joyce dead!
Irish expatriate’s eyes gouged out!

CRAZY:  Crazy.

SEXY:  Sexy.
COOL:  Cool.

O’NEILL:  Thank you for your cooperation.

MAHONEY:  We’ll be back, tough guy.

THE BARTENDER:  Would you like a drink, officer?

O’NEILL:  No, I have a date with Desiree under the Elms in an hour.

[The Detectives exit.]

CRAZY:  Crazy.

SEXY:  Sexy.

COOL:  Cool.

[Blackout.]
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Execution 1

The stage is set up with an electric chair for an execution.

RORKE:  The Laughing Cow.

[The Cow laughs.  The Detectives bring in a convict to be electrocuted. Spackle heads to the bar.]

MAHONEY:  Why don’t you have a seat?

[Mahoney pushes the convict into the chair roughly.]

CONVICT:  Why don’t you eat my shorts Mahoney?

O’NEILL: Alright, Mahoney.  There’s no need to be violent.  [to the convict]
Do you have any last words?

CONVICT:  I’m innocent, I tell ya, innocent…He was a bastard anyway.
He deserved to die.  I had a bad childhood.
My mother made me eat pancakes on Tuesdays.  It was the Germans!

[“Heart and Soul” begins to play in the background.]

CONVICT:  What’s that song?

O’NEILL:  “Heart and Soul.”

CONVICT:  Not bad.

MAHONEY:  Pretty catchy tune.

CONVICT:  I like it.

[The Convict is electrocuted. The Coughing Messenger enters coughing.]

CM:  I’ve got a telegram from The Governor.

O’NEILL: Is it a pardon?

CM:  Yeah.

MAHONEY:  You’re too late.

O’NEILL:  When did you get this?

CM:  11:55.

O’NEILL:  Then you’re not too late.  I mean you are too late, but you didn’t have to be.

MAHONEY:  What held you up?

CM:  I was listening to that song.

O’NEILL:  “Heart and Soul”?

CM:  Yeah.

MAHONEY:  It’s a pretty good song.

O’NEILL:  Catchy tune.

CM:  Infectiously sweet melody.

MAHONEY:  Mm-hm.

[“Heart and Soul” plays as they disperse, leaving The Convict fried in the chair as the lights dim.]
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

AGON 1

Rorke enters.

THE CHEESEGIRL:  The Laughing Cow.

[The Cow laughs.]

RORKE:  The spirit of drama is play and the spirit of play is the essentially natural spirit
of agon, of contest and play…so in the spirit of that spirit we present for you a little bit of agon we like to call The Laughing Cow Olympics.

[The Cow laughs.]

RORKE:  In this corner we have…Clown vs. Monkey.

[We see a Clown and a Monkey in a small arena eyeing each other warily.]

RORKE:  And in this corner we have…Dog vs. Mime.

[We see a Dog and a Mime in another small arena eyeing each other warily.
The Cow laughs.
As the contestants battle various characters urge on their favorites.
The audience is urged to join in the active cheerleading on the sidelines.
The Clown tries a few classic clown maneuvers but is savagely beaten by the Monkey.
The Clown is down.
The Mime tries to hide in an invisible box but the Dog sees through the ruse and bites the Mime.  The Mime tries a few more classic mime tricks (including “Walking Against the Wind” until an idea finally materializes.  The Mime grabs an invisible dog whistle and mimes blowing it.  The Dog is deafened by the unheard noise and barks “Uncle.”
Blackout.]
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Dada 2

THE CHEESEGIRL:  The Laughing Cow.

[The Cow laughs.  The Chairman of the Board enters with the Leader of the Pack.]

CHAIRMAN:  Da.

LEADER:  Da.

THE WAITER:  Da.

[Music starts.]

CHAIRMAN:  My pants.

LEADER:  My pants.

THE WAITER:  My pants.

CHAIRMAN:  Give my pants to the blonde girl.

LEADER:  Give her my pants.

THE WAITER:  My pants are no longer my pants.

CHAIRMAN:  Give my pants to the blonde girl.

LEADER:  Give her my pants.

THE WAITER:  Shine my shoes.

CHAIRMAN:  Shine my shoes.

LEADER:  Shine my shoes with the everlasting polish of your love.

THE WAITER:  Shine my shoes.

CHAIRMAN:  Shine my shoes.

LEADER:  Shine my shoes.  Shine them with your black shoe-polish love.

THE WAITER:  Shoe-polish love.

CHAIRMAN:  But my pants—

LEADER:  Give my pants to the blonde girl.

THE WAITER:  Give her my pants.

CHAIRMAN:  My pants go to the blonde girl.  My pants are hers.

[They dance their way offstage.]

CRAZY:  Crazy.

SEXY:  Sexy.

COOL:  Cool.

[Blackout.]
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Detectives

Rorke enters.

RORKE:  The Laughing Cow.

[The Cow laughs.]

THE CHEESEGIRL:  Cheese!  Cheese anyone?

RORKE:  Please help yourselves to some cheese.

THE CHEESEGIRL: Gouda, Muenster, Swiss and Cheddar.

[The Detectives enter.  Spackle heads for the bar.]

THE BARTENDER:  Can I get you a drink, officer?

O’NEILL:  I’ll have a touch of the potcheen, if you can spare it.

THE BARTENDER:  Rough day?

O’NEILL:  A long day.

THE BARTENDER:  It’ll be night soon.

O’NEILL:  A long day…and then night.

THE BARTENDER:  It’s a jungle out there.

MAHONEY:  Yeah, the jungle of the cities.

THE BARTENDER:  A wilderness.

O’NEILL:  Ah, wilderness!

MAHONEY:  To the wilderness!

ALL:  To the wilderness.

O’NEILL:  You spend all day chasing the hairy ape all across town, but it’s no use.
There’s a killer loose in this city, stalking every famous person you can think of, haunting our streets with the sound of mourning.

THE BARTENDER:  So what’s the word on the street?

O’NEILL:  I’ve doubled the security on Hugo Ball, we’ll see if the killer dares to strike
 again.

THE CHEESEGIRL:  Isn’t Hugo Ball dead?

[Rorke snaps his fingers.  The minion/ASM shows up.  Rorke reads.]

RORKE:  Hugo Ball is dead.

THE WAITER:  Hugo Ball is dead.

THE BARTENDER:  Hugo Ball is dead.

PAPERBOY:  Extra!  Extra!  Hugo Ball dead.  Serial killer suspected.

O’NEILL:  It’s getting really dangerous to be in the avant-garde.

MAHONEY:  We’ll get him, Chief.  Unless it’s a woman, in which case we’ll get her.

THE BARTENDER:  What if they died of natural causes?

MAHONEY:  Impossible.

THE WAITER:  Unthinkable.

[Spackle mumbles something through a mouthful of donuts.]

O’NEILL:  Alright!  Nobody in here can leave until we figure out who killed Hugo Ball.

THE BARTENDER [pointing to the audience]: What about them?

O’NEILL:  Miscreants and people of questionable morals.

THE BARTENDER:  Are they free to go?

THE CHEESEGIRL:  Not quite yet.

RORKE:  Not by half.

O’NEILL:  Come on Mahoney. You too, Spackle.

RORKE:  I thought you said no one could leave.

MAHONEY:  What are you, a wise guy?  You wanna talk wise downtown?
 

O’NEILL:  Alright Mahoney, there’s no need to get violent.
We have to find Hugo Ball’s killers.

[The Detectives exit.]

THE WAITER:  Hugo Ball is dead.

THE BARTENDER:  Hugo Ball is dead.

RORKE:  Hugo Ball is dead.

PAPERBOY:  Extra! Extra!  Hugo Ball dead!  Futurists fear further murders!
Feds try to draw out Dada killer!

[“Heart and Soul” starts to play in the background.]

RORKE:  I think they’re playing our song.

THE CHEESEGIRL:  I didn’t know we had a song.

THE WAITER:  Who are “they”?

THE CHEESEGIRL:  What is this song?

THE BARTENDER:  “Heart and Soul.”

THE WAITER:  Nice tune.

THE CHEESEGIRL:  It’s pretty catchy.

RORKE:  I find it incurably romantic.

[CM walks in coughing and sneezing.]

CM:  I have a telegram for The Laughing Cow.

[The Cow laughs.]

CM:  Hugo Ball is dead.

ALL:  We know.

[CM sneezes.]

RORKE:  You should see a doctor about that.

CM:  I’ve seen a doctor about it.  There’s nothing old Doc Hickory can do.

THE BARTENDER:  You should see Dave the Pharmacist.

ALL:  Dave the Pharmacist?

[Blackout.  “Heart and Soul” continues to play.]
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Execution 2

The stage is set for a firing squad.  O’Neill enters.

O’NEILL:  Alright, Mahoney, bring in the prisoner.

[Convict 2 is marched in by Mahoney and Spackle.
The Convict is blindfolded and smoking a cigarette.]

MAHONEY:  They’re gonna shoochya, Mac.  Shoochya, shoochya, shoochya.

CONVICT 2:  I have no idea what you’re saying.

MAHONEY:  They’re all lined up and ready to shoochya.

CONVICT 2:  Good for them.

O’NEILL:  Do you have anything to say for yourself?

CONVICT 2:  I’m not guilty, I tell ya.  I didn’t do it.  It was an accident.
The knife went off when I was cleaning it.  She deserved to die.
I’d do it again if I had done it in the first place.  It was the Germans!

O’NEILL:  Do you have anything worthwhile to say for yourself?

CONVICT 2:  You can kill me, but you can never kill my music.

[Music starts to play.  Perhaps something along the lines of “One” by U2.
Convict 2 sings along with Bono.  Trying to get the audience to sing along.  They do.  Rorke and the Laughing Cow gang enter and sing along too.  The whole place is moved.  O’Neill motions to someone offstage.  There is a sound of gunfire.
The music and Convict 2 fall simultaneously.]

CONVICT 2:  I did it…for…Jimmy.

[Convict 2 dies.  The cast members bow their heads.]

THE CHEESEGIRL:  Who’s Jimmy?

[The cast members shrug.  O’Neill motions to Mahoney who motions to Spackle.
Music plays – perhaps something from the world of Scandinavian pop, or perhaps something by the B-52s.  The cast dance as they take the body off and the lights fade out.]
 
 
 

Agon 2

MAHONEY:  The Laughing Cow.

[The Cow laughs.]

RORKE:  Quarter finals, part two.  In this corner we have Badger vs. Irish Priest.
 And in this corner we have Enraged Bull vs. Tenured Professor.

[The Badger growls but is reluctant to attack the Irish Priest.  The Priest takes a swig from his flask and goes to work.  He makes short work of the Badger.
Meanwhile the Enraged Bull takes a couple of passes around the Tenured Professor who is calmly smoking a pipe.  The Professor takes off his jacket and uses it as a cape.  He fights the Bull with grace under pressure.  The Bull gets tired.  He makes one more pass at the Tenured professor, who suddenly pulls a sword from somewhere and finishes off the bull. Lights go out (or curtains are pulled or whatever) for a brief moment.]

RORKE:  Quarter finals, part three will feature Mediocre 70s artist Peter Frampton
vs. Juice Newton and a beached whale vs. TV’s lovable dinosaur Barney.

[Blackout.]
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

The Committee to Revitalize Theatre

A conference table.  The Chairman, The Leader, The Femme Fatale, Paperboy, Crazy, Sexy, and Cool sit at the table.

CHAIRMAN:  I hereby call to order the Committee to Revitalize Theatre.

ALL:  Hear, hear.

CHAIRMAN:  As Chairman of the Board it is my duty to call your attention to the dire
 straits our profession has entered.  The world of the Theatre is in bad shape,
as we all know…Now we must, as we are the leading members of the theatrical community discuss what we can do to revitalize the theatre.
I turn the floor to the Leader of the Pack.

LEADER:  I say we have a drag race and a knife fight.

FEMME FATALE:  We can’t do that.  It’s too violent.

CHAIRMAN:  We need something that appeals to the lowest common denominator.

FEMME FATALE:  Something…sexy.

CRAZY:  Crazy.

SEXY:  Sexy.

COOL:  Cool.

CHAIRMAN:  Sex.  We need sex appeal.

FEMME FATALE:  That shouldn’t be too…hard.

LEADER:  So we do something with hardcore banging.

CHAIRMAN:  It can’t be hardcore.  That would offend our older viewers.

LEADER:  That’s a fucking shame.

CHAIRMAN:  And no bad language.

LEADER:  That’s a real fucking shame.

FEMME FATALE:  It’s just not…subtle.  We want something…subtle,
like a light breath from a dying hummingbird.
You know how to kill a hummingbird, don’t you?

CHAIRMAN:  Alright, we need to do something that will get people into the audience.

VOICE FROM OFFSTAGE:  What about a musical?

ALL:  Shut up!

[There is a sound of machinegun fire.]

FEMME FATALE:  What about a kissing booth?

CRAZY:  Crazy.

SEXY:  Sexy.

COOL:  Cool.

CHAIRMAN:  A kissing booth.  There’s a good idea.
It appeals to men and women of any and all inclinations.

FEMME FATALE:  I’d love to play the part of the girl who gets kissed.

LEADER:  Of course you would, dollface.

CRAZY:  Crazy.

SEXY:  Sexy.

COOL:  Cool.

CHAIRMAN:  For a couple of bucks people can kiss a real theatre person,
and for a couple more they can watch other people kissing from the bleachers.

CRAZY:  Crazy.

SEXY:  Sexy.

COOL:  Cool.

LEADER:  What about a dunking booth?

CHAIRMAN:  That’s a good one.

LEADER:  It appeals to people who like a good ass-kicking.

CHAIRMAN:  Yes, we can capitalize on our fascination with violence.
LEADER:  Yeah.

CHAIRMAN:  Brute force will be on stage as people line up to throw a ball at a target—

FEMME FATALE:  That’s so…masculine.  I’m getting all worked up.

CHAIRMAN:  --And dunk people into frigid cold water.

FEMME FATALE:  Oh, I’m feeling faint.

CRAZY:  Crazy.

SEXY:  Sexy.

COOL:  Cool.

LEADER:  Now that will get people into the theatre.

CHAIRMAN:  It appeals to young and old.

FEMME FATALE:  What about the…kissing booth?

CHAIRMAN:  What about it indeed.

[They think for a moment.]

 LEADER:  We can put ‘em together.

FEMME FATALE:  Yes.

CHAIRMAN:  The kissing and the dunking?

FEMME FATALE:  Yesss.

LEADER:  Yeah, why not.

FEMME FATALE:  Yes.

CHAIRMAN:  A combination kissing and dunking booth?

FEMME FATALE:  Yes.

CRAZY:  Crazy.

FEMME FATALE:  Yes.

SEXY:  Sexy.

FEMME FATALE:  Yes!

COOL:  Cool.

FEMME FATALE:  Yes!!

CHAIRMAN:  That’s brilliant.

FEMME FATALE:  We have one group of people kissing and in line to be kissed,
and then another group in line to buy balls to throw so that they can dunk the people who are kissing.

LEADER:  And we can sell another bunch of tickets to the people who just want to
 watch.

CHAIRMAN:  Voyeurs?

FEMME FATALE:  Yes!!!

CRAZY:  Crazy.

ALL:  Yes!

SEXY:  Sexy.

ALL:  Yes!!

COOL:  Cool.

ALL:  Yes!!!

CHAIRMAN:  We have just saved the Theatre.

[The Paperboy meekly raises his hand.]

CHAIRMAN:  Yes?

PAPERBOY:  Why don’t we just do a play?

CHAIRMAN [menacing]:  A PLAY?

[Murmurs of dissent.]

LEADER:  What are you, screwed in the head?

FEMME FATALE:  We can’t do a play.

CHAIRMAN:  It’s completely impossible!  It’s simply unheard of.  No one does that.

[The Detectives burst in.]

O’NEILL:  Open up!  Federal officers!  This is a raid!  Come on, Mahoney!

[There is a brief chase and an exchange of gunfire before the detectives capture all but Femme Fatale who makes an escape with some sort of disguise.  Mahoney grabs the Leader of the Pack and pushes him around.]

MAHONEY:  Come on, tough guy.  You aren’t so tough now, are you, tough guy?

O’NEILL:  That’s enough, Mahoney.

CHAIRMAN:  Who are you people?

O’NEILL:  I’m Agent O’Neill, of the treasury department.
These are Detectives Mahoney and Spackle.

CHAIRMAN:  We haven’t committed any crimes.

O’NEILL:  The law will be the judge of that.

MAHONEY:  It’s dirtbagscum like you that give the dramatic profession a bad name.

LEADER:  I want to talk to my lawyer.

O’NEILL:  Birds of a feather seem to flock together.

O’NEILL [to the Paperboy]:  Good work, kid.

CHAIRMAN:  You were with them?  You betrayed us?
After all we taught you about the theatre business?

LEADER:  You little stool pigeon.

MAHONEY:  Say that again, tough guy and you won’t be so tough anymore.
You get my drift?

O’NEILL:  Easy, Mahoney.  This isn’t the Moscow Art Theatre.  There are laws here.

PAPERBOY:  Extra!  Extra! Paperboy saves theatre from clutches of commercialism!
 Feds bust crappy capitalists!  Theatre purified!  Evil expelled!
CRAZY:  Crazy.

SEXY:  Sexy.

COOL:  Cool.

O’NEILL:  Alright, we’ll be taking you downtown now.

[Mahoney and O’Neill exit.  Spackle heads to the bar with the Crazy, Sexy, Cool guys.]
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Watching the Detectives

Same scene as the last.  No time elapsed.  Rorke enters.  He stands on the stage looking off.  He is joined after a few minutes by The Waiter.

THE WAITER:  What are you doing?

RORKE:    I’m watching.

THE WAITER:  Right.

[Pause.]

THE WAITER:  What are you watching?

RORKE:    I’m watching the detectives.

THE WAITER:  Mind if I join you?

RORKE:    No, go ahead.

[CM enters, coughing.]

CM:  What are you guys doing?

RORKE:    Watching.

THE WAITER:  Watching the detectives.

CM:  Oh…mind if I join you?

THE WAITER:  No, go ahead.

THE CHEESEGIRL:  What are you doing?

THE WAITER:  Watching.

RORKE:    Watching the detectives.

THE CHEESEGIRL:  Mind if I--?

CM:  No, go ahead.

[The Crazy Sexy Cool guys come over.  They shrug their shoulders to indicate that they have a question.]

THE CHEESEGIRL:  We’re watching the detectives.

CRAZY:  Crazy.

SEXY:  Sexy.

COOL:  Cool.

[Music begins to play.  (It is an Elvis Costello selection, obviously.) The watchers begin to move in time to the music, at first imperceptibly, but their movements get gradually larger until they are dancing around to the music, while watching the detectives.  Slow fade to black.]
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Execution 3

Another electric chair.  O’Neill enters.

O’NEILL:  Alright, Mahoney, bring in our guest.

[Mahoney enters with Convict 1 in a slightly different costume.]

O’NEILL:  You look familiar.

CONVICT 1:  I’m innocent, I tell ya.  It was the voices in my head.  The climate.
I didn’t mean to shoot him.  It was all masterminded by an evil gnome so that he could take my garden from me.  I’m innocent.  I’m innocent.  It was the Germans!

O’NEILL:  Do you have any last words?

CONVICT 1:  Umm…I’m innocent…innocent, innocent…climate…gnome…
voices in the head…The Germans…No, I think I covered it all.

O’NEILL:  Alright, Sam, let her rip!

CONVICT 1:  Wait?  What’s that song?

O’NEILL:  What song?

[Music plays.]

CONVICT 1:  That one.

MAHONEY:  It’s pretty good.

O’NEILL:  I like the banjo.  It’s a nice touch.

CONVICT 1:  Sounds like—

[The Convict is electrocuted.]

CONVICT 1:  Sounds like—

[Convict 1 dies—again.  The Coughing Messenger comes running in, out of breath.
O’Neill shakes his head.  Lights fade to black with the music.
Spotlight on The Cow.  The Cow laughs eerily.]
 
 
 

Agon 3

Rorke enters.

RORKE:    Semifinals.  In this corner we have…Irish Priest vs. Juice Newton…
and in this corner we have an Enraged Tenured Professor vs.—

[CM hands Rorke a note.]

RORKE:    We have a slight change in the program.  Due to copyright restrictions
TV’s lovable dinosaur Barney will not be able to fight this round, but his place will be taken by Christopher Hewitt, TV’s lovable Mr. Belvedere.

[There is an offstage shout of “Wesley!” in an annoyed tone as Christopher Hewitt enters to fight the tenured professor.  It is a tough old-fashioned fistfight, until both the Professor and Belvedere pull out weapons.  They eventually get thrown backstage.
We hear a gunshot, then several more.  We don’t know who wins.
Meanwhile, the Irish Priest and Juice Newton dance circles around each other.
The music is clearly working in favor of Juice, but the Priest gets in a few good punches.
The lights fade out with the contest unresolved.]
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

The Femme Fatale

Femme Fatale enters.

THE CHEESEGIRL:  The Laughing Cow.

[The Cow laughs.]

THE CHEESEGIRL:  Cheese?

FEMME FATALE:  No thanks.  Tell me, sister, what is it about men?

THE CHEESEGIRL:  What do you mean?

FEMME FATALE:  What do they want?

THE CHEESEGIRL:  Oh, that’s easy.  They want cheese.

FEMME FATALE:  Oh, please.

THE CHEESEGIRL:  I’m serious.

FEMME FATALE:  They want us, that’s what they want.

THE CHEESEGIRL:  That’s what they think they want.
But look what they do when they’ve got us.  Trust me, what they want is cheese.

FEMME FATALE:  Isn’t there anything better?

THE CHEESEGIRL:  Sure, but you can’t find it in a kissing and dunking booth.

[O’Neill enters.]

FEMME FATALE:  Hello, officer.

O’NEILL:  Bottom of the evening to you, Madame.

FEMME FATALE:  Are you in a…hurry, officer?

O’NEILL:  That sounds dangerous.

FEMME FATALE:  Do you think I’m dangerous?

O’NEILL:  Are you?

FEMME FATALE:  Oh, well, maybe I…am.
[She throws herself at him.  He fails to catch her.  She falls.]

O’NEILL:  Are you alright?

FEMME FATALE:  Slightly embarrassed.  Can you help me up?

O’NEILL:  Sure.

FEMME FATALE:  A gentleman would have caught me.

O’NEILL:  A lady wouldn’t have thrown herself at me like that.

FEMME FATALE:  Kiss me, you fool.

O’NEILL:  There’s your mistake right there.  I may be a lot of things, but I’m not a fool.

FEMME FATALE:  You’re a man, aren’t you.

O’NEILL:  You’re quite a dame.

FEMME FATALE:  You’re quite a man.

O’NEILL:  Why the flirting?

FEMME FATALE:  I’m hopeless.

O’NEILL:  From the looks of you that’s about all you’re in short supply of.

FEMME FATALE:  You’re all man.

O’NEILL:  You’re all woman.

FEMME FATALE:  Let’s get all over each other.  You’d like that, wouldn’t you?

O’NEILL:  I guess I would.

FEMME FATALE:  We could be like biscuits and gravy.

O’NEILL:  Which one of us would be the biscuits?

[She thinks for a moment.]

FEMME FATALE:  Well, you could be the gravy, because you’d be all over me…
but then you could be the biscuits too, because you’re hard boiled on the outside, but soft and warm on the inside and I’m hot like gravy…but then—

O’NEILL:  How many boiled biscuits have you eaten?

FEMME FATALE:  I don’t know what you’re talking about.

O’NEILL:  You said I was like a biscuit, because I’m hard boiled, but there’s no such
 thing as a boiled biscuit.

FEMME FATALE:  I didn’t mean anything by it.

O’NEILL:  You’re a dangerous woman.

FEMME FATALE:  You’ve got me all wrong.

O’NEILL:  No, you’ve got it figured wrong, sister.
You’ve got your metaphors all mixed up.

FEMME FATALE:  Don’t talk like that.  We can still have something.

O’NEILL:  We could never have anything.
Where were you the night Hugo Ball was killed?

FEMME FATALE:  I don’t know.  I wasn’t even born yet.

O’NEILL:  That’s a likely story, kid, but I just can’t believe you.
Your fingerprints were all over the gun used to kill Tristan Tzara.

FEMME FATALE:  No, that can’t be.  Tristan Tzara wasn’t shot, he was stabbed.

O’NEILL:  I know that.  I’ve always known that…
but only one other person could have known that.

FEMME FATALE:  Please don’t do this.  Just kiss me and we can forget all about this.

O’NEILL:  Oh, that would be real easy.  But you see, you’re dangerous.
You said that yourself.  Oh, maybe we’d be happy for a month or two, but you’d get bored.  You’d want excitement, and besides I know too much.

FEMME FATALE:  I have powerful friends.
I can make sure you don’t live past tomorrow.

O’NEILL:  Oh, you’re dangerous alright.  You killed Tristan Tzara…
but the question is “why?”  Maybe you did it in a rage.
Maybe you just hated Dada.  But then why James Joyce?
And why did you go so far as to blind the man before you killed him.

FEMME FATALE:  You think you’re so smart.  Joyce was blind before I shot him.
O’NEILL:  I look at you and I see an attractive dame, not exactly Ivy league material,
but you got some brains in there.  But you got frustrated.  First with the meaningless random ramblings of the Dadaists, so you stabbed Tristan Tzara,
and then with the stream of consciousness of Joyce, so you shot him in the back, and then you killed Hugo Ball just to be thorough.

FEMME FATALE:  I’m innocent, I tell ya.  I didn’t mean to do it.
It was the Germans…it was, it was…Alright, alright.  I did it.  Are you happy?  Huh?  Agent Eugene O’Neill of the Treasury department.  Mister Bigshot.
How does it make you feel to put away a woman for life?
How does it feel to pass up on this!

[She lunges at him and kisses him, hard and long.]

O’NEILL:  I just have one more question.

FEMME FATALE:  What is it?

O’NEILL:  Was it Ulysses or Finnegan’s wake that made you do it?

FEMME FATALE:  Ulysses.

O’NEILL:  I thought so.

[He starts to take her away.  “Heart and Soul” starts to play.  She stops.]

FEMME FATALE:  What’s that?

O’NEILL:  It’s our song, sweetheart.

FEMME FATALE:  It’s nice.

[He kisses her, sad and sweet, then walks her off.]

FEMME FATALE:  Will you wait for me?

O’NEILL:  Sure I will, sweetheart.  Just promise me one thing.

FEMME FATALE:  What’s that?
 
O’NEILL:  Don’t join the prison drama club.

[The lights and music fade out.]
 
 

Dave the Pharmacist

A pharmacy with a gentle glow radiating from it.  Dave the Pharmacist is busy creating things and working on healing potions.  He hums an angelic tune.  Perhaps “Amazing Grace.”  Perhaps “Heart and Soul.”  The Coughing Messenger enters.  He is in awe.

DAVE THE PHARMACIST:  Welcome, friend.  How can I help you?

CM:  Are you…

DAVE THE PHARMACIST:  Yes, I am the Pharmacist.

CM:  Dave the Pharmacist.

DAVE THE PHARMACIST:  Yes, friend.  Can I help you.

[CM coughs.]

DAVE THE PHARMACIST:  You need something for your cough.

CM:  Yes.

DAVE THE PHARMACIST:  You haven’t been well for a long time.

CM:  No.

DAVE THE PHARMACIST:  I have just the thing.

CM:  Thank you, Dave.

DAVE THE PHARMACIST:  Please, I haven’t done anything yet.

CM:  They say you perform miracles.

DAVE:  I just give people medicine.  The miracles are within you all.  It reminds me of the story about the two children and the woodchuck who were trying to get across the swollen creek during the flood -- stop me if you’ve heard this one before – so the children see the woodchuck get all the way across the stream and up onto the bank and they figure they can cross too.  So they get in and right then they see the woodchuck slipping down in the mud of the other side of the bank and rolling itself up into a little ball and rolling so fast that he just skipped  over the water toward them like a little brown furry bowling ball and they’re laughing and laughing.  They’re laughing so hard that they lose their footing and slip into the water.  But right at that moment the woodchuck hits the bigger of the two kids in the face and he grabs onto it and then he grabs ahold of the smaller kid and they just ride the woodchuck across the stream.  And when they get to the other side of the stream they watch as the woodchuck sinks back into the water and is carried away.
[CM is crying now.]

DAVE THE PHARMACIST:  You see.  The woodchuck sacrificed itself for those
 children, albeit in a pretty ridiculous furry little way.

[CM is openly bawling. Dave has by now finished the cough mixture and gives it to CM, who will very soon need a new name.]

DAVE THE PHARMACIST:  Go, and cough no more.

CM:  Thank you.  Thank you, Dave.

[CM exits.  Dave goes back to his benign mixing and hums a tune.  Lights fade out.]
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Execution 4

O’Neill enters followed by Mahoney and Spackle who bring in the Chairman of the Board and the Leader of the Pack.  They are blindfolded.

O’NEILL:  Do you have anything to say for yourself?

MAHONEY:  Yeah, you got anything to say, tough guy?

CHAIRMAN:  We didn’t do anything wrong.

LEADER:  We were just following orders.

CHAIRMAN:  Everyone else does the same thing.

LEADER:  It’s the only way.

CHAIRMAN:  It was the Germans!

LEADER:  And the gnomes, they’re out to get us all.

CHAIRMAN:  You’re next.  You just don’t know it yet.

LEADER:  You’ll wish you had us around when the gnomes take over.

O’NEILL:  Are you two through?

CHAIRMAN:  Did we mention that we were innocent?

O’NEILL:  You alluded to it.

CHAIRMAN:  Let’s see…gnomes…innocent…Germans.

LEADER:  Yeah, that about wraps it up.

O’NEILL:  Play it again, Sam.

[“Sam” shoots them from offstage.  Some music starts to play as they fall to the ground.  It is “Mack the Knife.”]

CHAIRMAN:  What is that?

O’NEILL:  They’re playing our song.

LEADER:  I’ve never heard it before.

O’NEILL:  No, you wouldn’t have.

CRAZY:  Crazy.

SEXY:  Sexy.

COOL:  Cool.

[The Cow laughs.  It has ceased to be a funny laugh.  Frankly, it’s a bit creepy.
Blackout.]
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Agon Finale

RORKE:  The Laughing Cow

[The Cow chuckles playfully.]

RORKE:  And now, the tag-team finals.
Mime and Juice Newton vs. Tenured Professor and Olivia Newton-John.

[The music alternates between Juice Newton and Olivia Newton-John songs as the four of them battle.  Juice puts up a good fight, but Olivia knows how to “get physical”  while the Mime is eventually outwitted by the Tenured professor, thus proving the value of higher education.  A brief celebration and then…Blackout.]
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

The Night That Falco Died

RORKE:  I remember the night that Falco died.

THE WAITER:  Falco is dead.

THE BARTENDER:  Falco is dead.

THE CHEESEGIRL:  Falco is dead.

CRAZY:  Crazy.

SEXY:  Sexy.

COOL:  Cool.

PAPERBOY:  Extra!  Extra!  Falco dead in traffic accident!
Neo-Dada mobsters suspected in mysterious accident!

RORKE:  Oh, I remember the night that Falco died.  It’s hard to forget.
Falco touched each of us in different ways during the brief span of his fame.
How many of us went to that damn costume movie and came home disappointed, because they never played the one song about Mozart we wanted to hear?
Yes, I remember.
Some people like to remember Falco with wild stories, some with verse, and some with video montages.  But I like to remember him with song.
I’d like you to join with me, if you can remember the words.

A long long time ago, but I can still remember,
how that one song of his used to make me smile.
And I knew if I had a chance that I could make you people dance
and maybe you’d be happy for a while.
Oh, but February made me shiver, with every paper I delivered.
Bad news on the doorstep, I couldn’t take one more step.
I can’t remember if I cried when I thought about his swift fall into obscurity,
but something touched me deep inside the day that Falco died.

[The Cast enters.  Music starts.
Someone has put up a poster with the lyrics to “Rock Me Amadeus.”
The Cast and Audience sing along. This goes on for a while with different variations (such as only the women singing on the “Ooh! Rock me, Amadeus” part) until we come to the chronological biography portion.]
 
 
 
 

RORKE:  1957 – Johannes Hoelzel is born in Austria.
      1979 – He changes his name to Falco.
      1985 – Falco scores his greatest hit with “Rock Me Amadeus”
      1991 – Falco records Data de Groove featuring the song “NeoNothing.”
      1998 – Falco dies when his car collides with a bus in the Dominican Republic.
  He was only 40 years old.
  Yet he peaked before he was 30.

[The song continues until such time as the director has seen fit to fade it and the lights to black.]
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

FINALE

Cabaret music replaces “Rock Me Amadeus.”

RORKE:  Wilkommen, bienvenue, are you happy yet?
 Ah, what good is sitting alone in your room?
 Come hear the music play.
 Life is a cabaret, old chum.
 Life is a cabaret.
 Thank you, thank you.
We hope you have enjoyed yourselves.
And we hope your pants have come out of this clean and well-pressed.
As you can see, we have a good time here, now and then,
between the Dada and the doodoo.
We hope you come back again to the Laughing Cow...[The Cow laughs.]
Where our specialties are dada and cheese.

THE BARTENDER:  Dadada.

RORKE:  At any rate, we hope you come back again,
and that you spend more next time.  Take home some cheese.  Splurge a little.
You only live once.

[CM enters, not coughing.]

CM:  I have a telegram.

RORKE:  You’re not coughing.

CM:  I’ve been to the Pharmacist.

[Rorke reads.]

RORKE:  What will they think of next?

THE CHEESEGIRL:  What is it?

RORKE:  A new contraption.  It’s an electric bench.

[Two minions bring a bench on stage set up with dual electric chair apparatus.
Mahoney and Spackle bring in Convicts 1 and 2.]

MAHONEY:  Alright, you tough guys.  Sit down.

O’NEILL:  Easy, Mahoney.  There’s no need for violence.
Do you two have anything to say for yourselves?

CONVICTS 1 & 2:  We’re innocent, we tell ya.  We’re innocent.
We didn’t mean to do it.  It was an accident. There were these gnomes.
They all deserved to die anyway.  It was the Germans!

[O’Neill signals to Mahoney who signals to Spackle.  The Convicts are electrocuted.
Blackout. End music as cast sings along to “Cabaret” or whatever else one may find in the inspirational music bin.  The End.]