Snot

I wish I had kept all of the boogers I've had this winter. I bet it would be a lot.

Everett's Body

Sexy didn't quite cover it. The thesaurus didn't help much either. Luscious, provocative, spicy, none of those alone quite described it. Sometimes Everett would try to make up words to describe his body. Lavonkrative sounded too clinical. Shashonic sounded too much like a hair product.

Everett spent most of his time thinking about his Adonic figure. Packages of dinner rolls called to mind his rippling abs. He went out of his way to meet people in front of picture windows in order to catch a reflective glimps of his flexed bicep while shaking hands. Everett always wore short sleeves.

His thighs were impressive, but not so intimidating that they strained his pant legs and his eyes seemed to grab the light right out of the air and glow. Not in a creepy way either. In a perfect way, and it was all of these things together, all of these perfect trees that created his unbelievable forest.

Everett liked to be admired. He loved to see how many women he could distract from their dates in restaurants. The stir he could cause in a gay bar was downright frightening. He was not entirely selfish, though. When stumbling upon an unattractive couple getting married in a park or ugly tourists photographing themselves in front of landmarks, Everett would do his best to insert himself in the frame, creating a much more appealing tableau for posterity.

His life was a happy one, save the knowledge that, when he died, his gift of beauty would no longer bring joy to the lives of others. This haunted Everett. He toiled over the issue at night when he should be sleeping, or at the very least moisturizing or tweezing. He spoke with theologians who urged him to abandon his vanity and look forward to a new life with the glory of God. He spoke with psychiatrists who guided him to nourish the beauty within, but none of this could satisfy his fear.

Finally, after years of turmoil, Everett decided to donate his body to science. Then he could be studied and admired and doted upon. In fact, the image of a room full of intrigued and jealous medical students pouring over his long/lean body, tan against the gleam of a shiny steel table, was oddly exciting to Everett.

And when his time finally came, at the merciless had of a distracted and speeding city cab, Everett's body was taken for study. But, as his spirit hovered, anxiously waiting his final scene of awe striking, an electric buzz rang out. First his left leg was sawed off, a knee sample for would-be orthopedist in Paducha. Then the other for podiatrists in training at The Ohio College of Podiatric Medicine. The pelvis and the torso were separated (going to Ft. Lauderdale and Omaha, respectively). His brain was removed and sent to future neurologists at Cornell and the remaining head was taken for practice rhinoplasty. If there was an upside, it was that both arms remained together for a tennis elbow study. Perhaps some young lab technician would recognize the perfect tricep symmetry.

And when all of this had finished, Everett cried one perfect spirit tear.

Dan

I was working at LPT the other morning and overheard this, and only this, from the middle aged, overly perfumed, highly laquored fingernails I was serving, "The last thing Dan had, before he died, was a Starbuck's pumpkin spiced latte." I found myself silently asking so many questions of two people whose existance, mere moments earlier, I was all too eager to forget. How did Dan die? Was it because of the latte? In spite of it? Did he die IN the Starbuck's? Was this last "meal" a good thing? I mean, was a Starbuck's pumpkin spice latte Dan's favorite drink in the world? When his tabby cat got into the bathroom trash and tried to eat used dental floss, could his wife bribe him by saying, "Oh Dan, honey, if you pull the floss out of the cat's ass, just this once, I'll go get you a Starbuck's pumpkin spice latte!" If faced with the question, "What would you do for a Klondike bar?", "Trade it for a Starbuck's pumpkin spice latte" would be a swap that he, literally, just couldn't stomach. Did Dan so revere the Starbuck's pumpkin spice latte that he entered into its consumption knowing it would cost him his life, and yet he made the ultimate sacrifice.

I needed a nap.

Magic

The Most Fantastic Show at the Fringe: Magic
Kitty Steffens

Kitty:
And what would any Fringe experience be without a magic show!

Willie:
Ummm……Kitty, I don’t think we’ve actually seen any magic shows at the Fringe.

(Uncomfortably glancing at the audience)

Kitty:
(Still with excited smile to mask the irritation. Repeats pointedly through clenched teeth, throwing Willie a look)

And what would any Fringe experience be without a magic show!!

Willie:
(Realizing there is no way out, and with enthusiasm)

And what would any Fringe experience be without a magic show!

(Start awesome German magician synth music. Willie puts on a cape and Kitty pulls on a sequined dress. They flip on some moody lights. Red? With very serious and deliberate looks to the audience, trying to seem mysterious and impressive, Kitty rubs smoke making goo between her fingers. Willie tries to riffle cards and fails. They go all over the floor, but neither acknowledges a failure.)

Both:
Oooooooooo

(as if what they have both done is incredibly impressive)

Willie:
For my first illusion, I will have my lovely assistant bring me an ancient dagger, hand crafted by the finest, most skilled swordsmiths in all of 13th century china

(Kitty hands him a cheap, plastic, retractable stage knife)

You maam! (approaches audience member) Look closely at its deadly blade! Whittled by dragons and sharper than any mortal razor.

(waves it in front of her far to quickly for her to authenticate)

I must warn you that this is not for the faint of heart. Brace yourselves for the possibility, nay, the likelihood of impending failure and the ensuing gruesome horror.

(There is a long pause during which Willie has to convince himself to go through with it. Willie stabs Kitty, they both feign horror. Kitty clutches the “wound” and looks in pain. Then, she breaks and looks to the audience, smiles, and proclaims)

Kitty:
MAGIC!!

(Claps to encourage audience to applaud)

Willie:
Yes, yes folks! This is where the magic happens. Assistant! My cape!

(Kitty takes off his cape)

My jacket!

(Kitty takes off his jacket. He turns jacket inside out and puts it back on. We see that it is reversible. They both give surprised and self-satisfied faces again)

Willie:
Magic!!

(Moves on)

Assistant! Pick a card, any card!

(Holds up a fanned deck of cards. There is obviously a card that does not belong. Kitty picks that card and, shocked, shows it to the audience. It is a Magic the Gathering card)

Kitty:
Magic!!

Willie:
(Meanwhile, Willie grabs a poster of Harry Potter and unfurls it)

Magic!

Kitty:
(Kitty grabs a poster of Magic Johnson and unfurls it)

Magic!

(They look a little worn out, panting. Willie dabs his brow with a handkerchief. They are smiling and nodding at each other with unspoken congratulations. Maybe a high five. They move on.)

Gold for Cash

Announcer:

Do you like gold? Have you been taken by one of those crazy “Cash for Gold” scams promising to send you troughs full of cash in return for all of the jewelry you or anyone in your family has ever owned? Have you blindly placed your precious belongings in an envelope with the promise of riches in return, only to receive less than what a Taiwanese sex worker makes in an hour?

Person 1:

I sent in all of my grandmother’s heirloom jewelry and only got $12!

(holds up $12)

Person 2:

I mailed in 2 gold bars and they sent me this bag of carrots!

(holds up bag of carrots)

Person 3:

I actually received a Taiwanese sex worker in exchange for some stale peanuts!

(Holds up an Alf puppet? a ficus plant? something else more funny)

Announcer:

Actually, that's a ficus plant.

Person 3:

(to announcer, near tears)

Why do you always have to be so cruel?

(to ficus)

Come on baby, lets go make some sweet magic.

Announcer:

(to audience, while crossing to the other side of the stage)

Well, now there’s an answer to all your problems! The Gold for Cash Institute! The process is easy. Just take your used and unwanted cash and place it in this prepaid envelope and we’ll send you gold! Here at the Gold for Cash Institute, we have certified gold-ologists working around the clock to insure you receive more than your money’s worth!

Scientist 1:

Hey, Harvey. What do you think Judy from Dubuque can get for ten grand?

(hands Harvey 10 grand)

Scientist 2:

(turns cash over in his hands a bit)

Ehhhhh…..I’d say 3 doubloons.

Announcer:

Here at the Institute we have worked for, literally, days to perfect a precise mathematical model to determine a fair exchange. This complex algorithm takes into account such factors as exchange rate, gold futures trading, the specific economic climate of your area, blood type, and risk of zombie attack.

Person 1:

(wearing a large gold crown and gleeful like a little girl. Can be male or female. Is accompanied by gross, unimpressed redneck scratching and drinking beer)

I sent in $30 dollars and got this bejeweled tiara! Now my husband thinks I’m a princess!!

Person 2:

I sent in $100 and got a full set of someone’s gold teeth!

(flashes a smile to reveal a crazy ass grill?)

Person 3:

(mouth covered in chocolate. Possibly retarded kid? Nate?)

I sent in $3,000 and the gold I got back had chocolate in it! Yeaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!

Announcer:

Remember, we offer more gold tan our competitors and it’s all guaranteed by someone who you trust! Don’t delay! The time for gold is NOW!

(Either opens jacket to reveal gold watches hanging inside and perhaps a rubber chicken? A gilded rubber chicken? Or zombies attack the stage. Whatevz)

Fin

L'chailander

A race of men who can never die and are eternally embroiled in a battle to eradicate others of their kind until we find out they are aliens in the sequel? Sounds crazy, no? It isn't easy. You may ask why do we stay here if it's so dangerous? Well, we stay because of our love of

1) Our love of perms, trench coats, and white sneakers
2) Easy women and lightning montages
3) Queen, you see, we are princes of the universe.

But more than that, we stay because it's tradition! (a few bars of Tradition plays)

Here in _____, we have traditions for everything. How to sleep, how to eat, how to work, how to wear clothes. For instance, we always wear

1)Culturally inappropriate attire



2) (Nothing and skip to Tradition section OR something funnier)

Here in _____, Egyptians dress like Spaniards and speak with Scottish accents. How did this tradition get started? I'll tell you!..........I don't know

(Move into song "Tradition" change Papas, Mamas, Daughters, and Sons, to something Highlander related that I will write later when I am not at work)

Racially Insensitive Vibrators

"Rabbit" style

Shaft=Totem Pole
Vibrating Nub=Beaver
(This actually exists. It's called the Big Chief)

Shaft=Black man with afro
Nub=Black power fist

Shaft=Hasidic Jew (Hat, earlocks)
Nub=Star of David

Shaft=Chinaman
Nub=Chop Sticks
(this is obviously in yellow and very, very small)

Shaft=Mexican in a sombraro
Nub=Zzzzz

Shaft=Arab
Nub=Airplane

Shaft=Priest
Nub=Small Boy



Regular Vibrators With Voices

A Mexican vibrator. When you turn it on, it buzzes for a second then stops and says, "I theeeenk I need a siesta"

A Gay vibrator that just refuses to go there.