Sunday, October 24, 2010

17 - The Tragedy of Bushius Caesar Act 5 Scene 3

                            Enter Rummeus and Wolfowitzus

Rummeus:            O Wolfie dear, how goes our cunning plan
                           To worst, or is it best, that Anus man?

Wolfowitz:           Worst, schmorst, best schmest, it meaneth all the same
                            E’en if each verb hath contradict’ry name.

Rummeus:            Then go unto the Hill, that they approve
                            Our cunning scheme McCainus to remove
                            From Senate ere he tar us with same brush
                            That we concocted to impeach the Bush.
                            Find Senate clerk, to know just how it goes.
                            Sit down with him and find out what he knows
                            That he doth not know, find if he unknows
                            What he doth know and yet unknows...

Wolfowitz:                                                                        You pose
                            A puzzle with ‘knows know’ and ‘know not knows’
                            As with your ‘known unknowns’ and ‘unknown knowns,’
                            That brought around the world so many groans.
                            My mind doth boggle, zounds! So, please explain
                            The sigmoid twisting colon of your brain.

Rummeus:            Just go and get the gossip.
                                                                   Exit Wolfowitzus
                                               Alarums, excursions sennet,. Enter Caesar
Caesar:                                                           It is me!
                           And you did think that you were Bushie-free!

Rummeus:           ‘Oh my God! They killed Kenny! You bastards!’
                           Yet back he comes…

Will S.:                                                A rhyme? Yes!

Rummeus:                                                                   like fast herds
                           Of raging buffalo…

Caesar:                                               You plume-plucked hen
                           Yo mama is so fat her arse…

Will S.:                                                           Pox!

Writing C.:                                                              Men!
                                       Ruckus, screams, shouts. Exit Caesar, limping

                                                            Enter Wolfowitzus

Wolfowitz:          The Anus man is in your pants, my lord.

Will S.:               That’s tents, not pants, puke-stockinged worm! O Gawd!
                          The Bushie virus spreads.
                                                Alarums, excursions. Enter sponsor 2

Sponsor 2:                                                For underpants
                         For adults with the wetties: if by chance
                         Thy bladder overfloweth, then with ease
                         Contain the leaks with Tena! Hide your pees!
                                                                 Exit sponsor 2

                                           Alarums, excursions, sennet. Enter Caesar

Caesar:              Did I hear leaks? I am by myself outed

Vox populi:        Gay Caesar? Brokeback?

Writing C.:                                                 Nay! Just laws he flouted.
                          Now come on men, remove him once for all!

Caesar:              Ouch! Ooh! Ooch! Ow! Eeh! Oh! Ay! My left ball! 
                                                                Exit Caesar, limping

Rummeus:          My pants? Good golly, I did feel them full.
                          Oh, tents! Then we are done for.

Wolfowitzus:                                                         Fanciful
                         Then was the victory that you predicted
                         But yesterday, to myths and lies addicted.

Rummeus:          I do believe what I said yesterday,
                         I don’t know what I said, but anyway
                         I know what I do think, and I assume
                         It’s what I said.

Will S.:                                      Methinks he doth presume. 

Writing C.:         Nay, that is how he speaks in real life,   
                         His bumbling tongue's not pure as Caesar’s wife.

Rummeus:         Well, um, you know, something is neither good
                         Nor bad but thinking makes it so (or should),
                         I do suppose, I think, as Shakespeare said.

Will S.:              How dare he take my name. I’ll have him dead.
                         Once more the cast rebels, all of its own
                         Takes on a life, ignores my text

Writing C.:                                                          Don't groan,
                         Dear Will! With his good-bads, I think he meant
                         The reference to thee as compliment.
Wolfowitzus:      Good, schmood! Bad, schmad! Your words are mighty stale. 
                         You said with all our troops we would prevail.
                         And now we’re in the shitter, in the lav!

Rummeus:          You go to war with the army you have
                          And not the army you might want or wish
                          To have at later time.

Wolfowitzuss:                                     You make me pisch
                          As we do say in Yiddish. What comes next?

Rummeus:          I would not say the future (where’s the text?)
                          Is less predictable than is the past;
                          (I’ve lost my place again. Where is it? Fast!)
                          I think the past was not predictable
                         When it did start.

Wolfowitzus:                                  O mind inscrutable!
                          O what on earth mean’st thou and what in hell?

Rummeus:           If I know the answer, then I will tell
                          You the answer, and if I don't, I'll just
                          Respond cleverly: that is, if I must.

Wolfowitzus:       But what do we do now with this train wreck?

Rummeus:           Now, settle down, do settle down now. Heck,
                          I'm an old man, it's early in the morning,
                          I'm gathering my thoughts here.

Wolfowitzus:                                                      Is it dawning
                         What we should do, now that this pow’r slugfest
                         We’ve lost?

Rummeus:                           We’ve lost? Ah, yes, we’ve lost. Then blest
                         Will be the day that from this mortal coil
                         I’ll shuffle me and far away me hoil.

Will S.:              ‘Struth! Hoil? ‘Tis hurl!

Writing C.:                                              Now into Brooklynese
                          The rump-fed pignut slips.

Will S.:                                                     Then all his pleas
                          I grant to shuffle off, his coil and all.

Rummeus:          Then e’en without a Guidant do I fall.
                                            Rummeus falls

          Alarum. Enter Cheneyus, Scooterus and sundry hangers-on

Cheneyus:         Where, where, o Scootie, doth his body lie?

Scooterus:         Lo, yonder, shrouded ‘neath many a fly.

Cheneyus:          O Bushius Caesar, thou art mighty yet;
                         Thy spirit walks like Kenny’s.
                           Alarums, excursions, sennet. Enter Caesar

Caesar:                                                          You can bet
                         Your bottom dollar!

Writing C.:                                 Wordsmith! Grammar-man!
                            Ruckus, screams, shouts. Exit Caesar, limping

Cheneyus:          Such grievous harm and mayhem to our plan
                          The churlish boil-brained boar-pig now done did

Grammarian:       Done did! Ye gods!
                                         Alarums, excursions. Enter sponsor 1

Sponsor 1:                                      For contracts without bid
                         At Halliburton we are number one,
                         Olympic champions are we bar none.
                         Done did? Did done? We couldn’t care a hoot
                         For grammar, s’ long as we pile up the loot.

                                                           Exit sponsor 1

Cheneyus:         ‘Tis three o’clock, and Romans, yet ere night
                         We shall try fortune in a second fight.
                                           Exeunt omnes, dancing a vigorous twist

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