Elbow Play 1

Since, the cool title of Knee Plays was taken by David Byrne and Robert Wilson, I decided to write some Elbow Plays instead.

These are short avant-garde (with a capital A and capital G) plays.

They are beyond explanation, beyond good and evil, criticism, love, death, and everything else you deem important.

They are not your friends.

They are busy on their way to immortality so please don't ask them any questions.

They are not your mother's tampon.




ELBOW PLAY 1


A GIANT HAMSTER is center stage, running in his GIANT HAMSTER WHEEL.

When things are Big and Odd they are avant-garde. When things are Big but Not Odd, they are not. When things are Odd but not Big, I'm not sure. It depends, I think.

The Giant Hamster should be composed of four Japanese individuals who have trained with Navy Seal discipline for eight months before attempting to simulate a Giant Hamster in an avant-garde play.

The Japanese individuals should all fit inside the hamster suit precisely and there should be no speaking while they are within the hamster. Ever.

This giant hamster wheel is powering a sex machine composed of a long piston-dildo which is assaulting the pseudo-vagina of a Mother Teresa love doll. An automaton of the current pope in Nazi gear stands over her, speaking a benediction in an audio loop. At the end of the loop, we hear WOODY WOODPECKER's laugh.

(In a Berlin production, Aloysius Hesse substituted 5000 regular size hamsters in regular size hamster wheels to power the Mother Teresa vignette. He has been banned from all of art for life as a result. He is not allowed to practice any art whatsoever, thanks to my attorneys and good European connections. He can't even make a potholder. I kid you not. He's not even allowed to use irony anymore. The Guilds over there wield incredible power. So any Edward Cleverhands out there, be forewarned.)

Each member of the audience is to be given a plastic bag filled with hospital air to remind him or her of their mortality. DO NOT SPARE CHILDREN THIS VITAL PART OF MY DRAMATURGY. That was a mistake made in Oslo and I still can't sleep a full night without that thought awakening me. This hospital air can be gathered in any hospital but please remember to make sure it smells of illness and death. Several of my peers have expressed great professional jealousy that I have managed to bypass the conventional means of reminding the audience of their mortality---that is, I have no need to resort to language to achieve these effects. Some of them have even referred to me as "post-language" or they call my work "language-transcending." I believe they should spend more time thinking of further terms to qualify my genius. Some of them should give up being a playwright to pursue this full time. They will be amply rewarded by posterity.

Back to my opus.

So Mother Teresa's getting piston-fucked, the Pope is doing his Woody Woodpecker benediction in full Nazi Regalia and the Giant Hamster populated by Japanese people is powering this spectacle.

Then out comes Philip Glass (a facsimile will suffice if he's still kanoodling that calliope music or whatever it is he does) from stage left, and from stage right E! television trollop Chelsea Handler.

They lock in a battle to the death and fight using only their hands at first, but soon weapons are lowered on fine-mesh chains. The weapons are mostly medieval, but later some Neolithic type weapons are lowered.

As the duo struggle artistically, STEPHEN COLBERT is dropped from a helicopter hovering half a mile over the theater (the roof will have been opened up like the Pantheon and this architectural innovation should remain in any theater where my play was performed).

STEPHEN COLBERT plummetting to earth kills both Philip Glass and Chelsea Handler when he lands upon them.

Colbert gets up and drags Mother Teresa away from the cock machine, while reciting the closing lines of the Bhagavad-Gita.

He puts the Nazi Pope in a "four on the floor" position to be anally penetrated by the piston-dildo machine.

He lays his head on Mother Teresa's lap and weeps.

CURTAIN