Saturday, November 17, 2007


Severed Yakuza digits were the price of admission. At the door stood a headless Marine at attention, decked out in his formals with a 17th century crossbow in his hand. Every chair in the place was full of tumbleweeds, perfectly still in the seats. A Mongoloid in a bright-red, 80’s track suit came onstage from the wings. He started to breakdance before the music started, then made a farting noise with his lips and stopped, seemingly embarrassed. Snipers with water pistols full of liquefied Jello-shots took aim at him from various points in the balconies. The music began, a mixture of low, rumbling bass notes and the sounds of geese. The Mongoloid started his breakdancing routine again. Four men in gray, painter’s coveralls splattered in blood came onstage and surrounded him. In their hands were black window blinds which they held high so as not to drag them against the floor. An old, wrinkled Taiwanese woman in a maid outfit came from the opposite wings, carrying two, long fluorescent bulbs. As she smashed them together, four, interconnected metal rods held aloft by chains descended from the catwalk above the Mongoloid. The four painters waited as the bars came within reach and placed the window blinds on all four sides, then crawled offstage on their hands and knees. The Mongoloid continued to breakdance within the enclosed blinds. The low bass rumble stopped abruptly and the geese sounds turned into feedback. Smoke flooded the stage. The Mongoloid halted his dancing and began shouting times table. The sevens, incorrectly. The blinds shut as the Taiwanese maid brandished a revolver and shot herself in the foot, no screams or shouts, completely unaware of her own actions even after blood shot out of her tan shoes. Several tumbleweeds in the front row blew from out of their seats.  The snipers took their lunch breaks.



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