Tuesday, October 19, 2010
15 - The Tragedy of Bushius Caesar Act 5 Scene 1
Enter McCainus, Georgie P. and their army
Georgie P.: Now, Anus dear, ere day turns into night,
Will our great goal at last heave into sight?
McCainus: Don’t call me Anus! Title such as this
Alone thine uncle used. I’ll call you Piss,
Not P, if you persist. Our course is fair,
Rummie and Chenie we will beat four square.
Georgie P.: Oh, An’… McCainus, how canst be so sure
That Chenie, Rummie will not long endure?
McCainus: I paid the Surgeon-General to implant
In Chenie a pacemaker from Guidant,
Their ICD model that with a short
Circuit his life forever shall abort.
And with Hastertus next in line of power
At last will dawn my effing finest hour
For I’ll manoeuvre him to make me Veep
And with a Guidant then put him to sleep.
Geogrie P: O canny one, let’s e’en now sing our song
Of victory, for whate’er could go wrong?
Alarums, excursions sennet,. Enter Caesar
Caesar: Hello! It’s me! I’m back. Bushie redux!
McCainus: O Gawd! ‘Tis worse than vile acid reflux!
Georgie P. kicks his legs high in the air and breaks out into song
Georgie P.: Hello, Bushie, well, hello, Bushie, it's so nice
To have you back where you belong.
McCainus: A vice
And not a wringer will I use to catch
Your nipple. Now shut up, you stupid snatch!
This dread appearance doth confound my plan.
Out, damned spot! Out, I say!
William S.: Wrong play! Wrong man!
That quote’s Macbush, and Mitchell in my cast
Ne’er was. Now oust that Bushie Caesar fast!
Writing C. Wordsmith, Grammarian, send Bush to hell!
Ruckus, screams, shouts. Exit Caesar limping
Alarums, excursions. Enter sponsor 2
Sponsor 2: For pests, unwanted guests, get Roachmotel!
Exit sponsor 2
Drum. Enter Cheneyus and Rummeus and their army
Cheneyus: They stand and would have parley.
Rummeus: We must talk.
McCainus: But in dread battle you’ll not walk the walk.
Georgie P.: You lack cojones (Mom’s from Mexico).
Stand down; your muscles, pray, unflex and go
Cheneyus: You dare to taunt us, peevish schoolboy? Zounds!
McCainus: You show your teeth like apes and fawn like hounds!
Cheneyus: Thou puking pox-marked plume-plucked foul giglet!
McCainus: Thou qualling flap-mouthed boil-brained vile mammet!
Rummeus: Thou currish old Europ’an barnacle!
Georgie P.: Thou empty pigeon-liver'd testicle!
Cheneyus: Thou that forever dost thy panties soil!
McCainus: Thou bubbling vat of excremental oil!
Alarums, excursions. Enter sponsor 1
Sponsor 1: For all your burnings, tortures, Abu Ghraib,
Use Halliburton’s oil – pass the bribe!
Exit sponsor 1
Cheney: Thou paunchy rump-fed bunch-back'd whoreson strumpet!
McCainus: Shut up! Or know where thou wilt feel my trumpet!
Alarums, excursions sennet,. Enter Caesar
Caesar: You poor affronters! I can spice your spat
And give you insults far better than that:
Yo mama is so fat, the elephant…
Writing C.: My doughty friends, go get that miscreant!
Ruckus, screams, shouts. Exit Caesar limping
McCainus: Defiance, traitors, hurl we in your teeth.
Georgie P. We sheathe our swords now, later to unsheath.
Exeunt Cheneyus, Rummeus and their army dancing a polka
McCainus: Now to our diverse posts let us depart
To clobber Chenie, Rummie from the start.
But should ought untoward perchance befall us
Forever and forever farewell, Georgius.
Georgie P.: Forever and forever farewell, Anus.
McCainus: I told you ne’er to call me Anus, doofus!
Georgie P.: ‘Tis not my fault, McCainus, but the bardus,
Who wrote the line because thy name too spacious
Combined with metre less than o’ercapacious
Could not accommodate all of McCainus.
With accent on the ‘ain,’ a fault heinous,
The bardic pacman ate McC, rapacious,
Hence used I thy nickname, forsooth, audacious.
Exeunt, dancing a tango, Georgie P. gripping a yellow rose of Texas between his teeth
Sunday, October 17, 2010
14 - The Tragedy of Bushius Caesar Act 4 Scene 3
Cheneyus and Rummeus within Powwow Tent
Rummeus: That you have wronged me doth appear this way,
That from our side you strike out Tom DeLay.
Cheneyus: You wronged yourself to write in his support
When he is bound apace for fed’ral court.
It matters not that he did crim’nal wrong
If it stays hidden, not in public song,
Bruited about, as now with Abramoff.
In fact for goodly covert crimes hats off!
I’m all for that; a good Republican
Knows better, ‘struth, than any other man
That crime’s no crime, forsooth, if it remains
Hush-hush, hid, dark, without public’ty’s stains.
Just let me tell you, Rummie, you yourself
(Not whispered soft by some fictitious elf)
Are much condemned to have an itching palm,
To sell and mart - you’re called the golden arm -
To underservers.
Rummeus: I an itching palm?
How durst thou thus to scratch my itch!
Alarums, excursions. Enter sponsor 2
Sponsor 2: Use balm!
Rub not! Scratch not! Thy jock itch we can cure,
With Mycatin thy crural comfort’s sure.
Fresh alarums, excursions
We equal opportunity fulfill
For itching feminines use Vagisil!
Cools instantly; stops burning, irritation;
Becalms at once with fast alleviation.
Exit sponsor 2
Rummeus: The golden arm? Why, thou with Halliburton
For giant profit-gouging raised the curtain
In Eye-rak with no bids, and over-chargin’
One hundred-fold they multiplied their margin.
On oil, too, you let them write the rules;
Ill-gotten gains fore’er till Hades cools
Will they now reap.
Cheneyus: But that behind closed doors
I did, not on the House and Senate floors.
To take thy phrasing, ‘tis the known unknowns
O’er which our enemies would fain pick bones,
When known unknowns transform themselves to knowns;
Or rather unknown knowns leave undertones
‘Pon which the hateful media megaphones
Can zero in. Likewise, the shown unshowns,
When shown unshowns transform themselves to showns,
Will overwhelm our plans with groans and moans
And thus constrain…
Rummeus: Zounds, ‘sblood, I understood
My phrase once, but now cannot see the wood
For all the known unknown trees that you plant
To obfuscate my plain speaking’s clear chant.
Cheneyus: The secrecy ‘tis, stupid, not the fact,
That, now no longer secret, harms our pact
That struck the foremost man of all this world.
Thus doomed by snares of Abramoff unfurled,
Do not defend DeLay, that hot potato,
E’en if beloved by Institute named Cato.
Rummeus: Don’t call me stupid. I will run you through.
Cheneyus: Dost think, ‘cause I had better things to do
Than serve in army that you make me quake?
Rummeus: At least I served in th’ navy, goodness sake,
If long ago.
Cheneyus: Thinkst thou’rt the better soldier?
Rummeus: I never better said, but I am oldier.
Cheneyus: But, Rummie, we cannot enlist DeLay.
Fine deeds, once covert, in the light of day
Lose fineness, alchemised to crime by leaks.
Alarums, excursions sennet,. Enter Caesar
Caesar: Did I hear leaks? Leaker-in-Chief now speaks.
For who, think ye, did leak top secret sleaze
On non-existent WMDs?
Cheneyus: He’s back! The Bushie Caesar lives again!
‘Twas not illusion; ‘tis a real-time bane.
Rummeus: It’s like that ghastly Kenny in South Park.
Cheneyus: What’s that?
Rummeus: A TV show I watch, a lark,
Something in common with the troops to prate
In lieu of body armour sent too late
By me to Eye-rak. Then I smoked…
Cheneyus: Your point?
Rummeus: To more relate to them I smoked a joint.
Cheneyus: The Kenny point!
Rummeus: Ah, yes! Each week they kill
Him off, each time they shout and yell at will
‘Oh my God! They killed Kenny! You bastards!’
Yet ev'ry time he's there, upon the mastheads;
Each week he’s back, unscathed, tra-la, alive
Caesar: O do go on some more! I love this jive
Cheneyus: What shall we do?
Rummeus: What shall we do?
Will S.: Oi Vey!
Ay me, can I ne’er e’er sweep him away?
Yet in this scene I did give him a post,
To come back later, not now, as a ghost.
Will no one rid me of this meddlesome priest?
Writing C. O dear, you’ve slipped a gear in this fine feast
Of verse, for Bushie is no priest; a knave
Is he, a bungler and a dolt most grave;
But you have leap-frogged from the days of yore
To Becket film of 1964.
But do not take this meddling fool so hard,
I have that anti-Bushie plan, O Bard:
Cry ‘Havoc!’ Yet again let slip my hounds.
O Grammar-meister! Move your arse now! Zounds!
You too, Wordsmithy, move now!
Ruckus, screams, shouts. Exit Caesar, limping
Cheneyus: He is gone.
Our Kenny’s crossed another Rubicon.
Rummeus: Could it have been, or did it just so seem?
Alarums, excursions, sennet,. Enter Caesar
Caesar: Our nation now finds hope, where wings take dream…
Cheneyus: O Gawd! I recognize that misspeak there.
Rummeus: Me too! Good golly! Golly! What a scare!
Will S.: Our play’s hijacker’s back, turning to farce
Our finest verses. Coach, go kick his arse!
Caesar: Indeed I'm back to swagger, smirk and boast.
You thought, O Will, to downgrade me to ghost?
Poor Willy! There is nought that I can't fix.
I crossed the Rubicon, now 'cross the Styx
I sail triumphant.
Will S.: Writing coach, avaunt!
Grammarian! Wordsmith! repay the taunt!
Ruckus, screams, shouts. Exit Caesar, limping
Cheneyus: These inauspicious come-backs by the Bush,
McCainus too now on his way, do push
Us that in our relation’s wid’ning tear
The shredding rents and breaches we repair
Alarums, excursions. Enter sponsor 1
Sponsor 1: Repairs? And rents? And tears? Oil fires? All
We do. For us no order is too tall,
At Halliburton’s KBR offshoot,
With no-bid contracts we pull in the loot.
Exit sponsor 1
Cheneyus: But Rummie, please, let’s drop DeLay the Hammer.
Rummeus: So be it, then! Let’s put him in the slammer!
Cheneyus: There is a slide in the affairs of men…
Will S.: O who! O what! O how! O why! O when!
One noble quote I give him, one alone,
And yet he mangles it, turns gold to stone.
A single line to Brutus Chenie thus,
And twisty-cornered mouth turns it to puss.
So noxious is the Bushie tongue’s bird flu
That it infects the whole damned effing crew,
No more! No more! I quit! I quit! I quit!
Writing C. O do not quit me! I will deal with it.
[Ruckus, screams, shouts]
Cheneyus: Ouch! Ooh! My ear! He stuck me with a pen.
What? Oh! …a tide in the affairs of men
Which taken at the flood leads on to fortune…
Rummeus: ‘Tis late. Let us retire, I thee importune.
Cheneyus: O, Scooterus!
Enter Scooterus in hair curlers
My gown.
Exit Scooterus
Rummie, good night
And good repose!
Rummeus: May ne’er again such fight
Come ‘twixt our souls.
Cheneyus: Arseholes?
Rummeus: You stole my schtick!
Act two scene one I cracked that, Chenie Dick!
Enter Scooterus with gown and blow up doll
Now with our souls let’s swear the faith to keep.
Good golly! Ouch!
Exit Rummeus, stumbling over his toga hem
Cheneyus: O Scoot, thou seemst asleep.
Poor knave, I blame thee not; thou art o’erwatched
E’er since old Caesar’s leaks thou went’st and botched.
Where’s thy guitar?
Scooterus: I left it in the aisle.
Cheneyus: Canst thou hold up thy heavy eyes awhile
And touch thy instrument a strain or two?
Scooterus plays rockaby baby
Thus I the Eye-rak bungle do eschew
With song and dance to soothe…
Scooterus falls asleep. Enter the ghost of Caesar
Ha, who comes here,
That mak'st my blood cold and my hair to rear?
Speak to me what thou art?
Ghost: Thy evil axis
Will S.: Ay me! Beyond oi vey is axis, schmaxis!
Cheneyus: Ay me! ‘tis Rummie’s Kenny Bushie Caesar
Will S.: E’en as a ghost he flubs. Cancel his visa!
Ghost: A ghost? I thought ‘a goat’ as in that book
I read on 9/11 when that crook
Osama tried Pet Goat to interrupt
With sneak attack so vile and abrupt.
I did not let him, though; kept reading on
And on… and on… and on… and on… and on,
Until by time Katrina’s cyclone blew
I had at last made it to chapter two.
Not even then would I brook interruption
And kept on reading through all that destruction.
I love so My Pet Goat!
Will S.: I cannot take
A moment more this charlatan, this fake.
Cheneyus: The Kenny Bushie Caesar doth reprise
His never-ending comeback-kid surprise.
Will S.: Axis ’tis not, you schmuck! ‘Tis spirist written
Full clear. Coach hit him, leave him sorely smitten!
[scuffle, sound of blows, screams]
Ghost: Ooh! Ow! My knackers! Ouch! Alright! I cede.
Do cease already! Th’ written text I heed.
Thy evil spirit, Chenie.
Cheneyus: Why com’st nigh?
Ghost: To tell thee thou shalt see me at Popeye.
Will S.: Popeye? You dunderheaded fool!
Breaks down in sobs
Boo hoo!
This is the most unkindest cut. Et tu,
Most brutish ghost! ‘Tis Philippi I wrote,
Where doth McCainus sink Cheneyus’ boat.
The ghost throws off his bed sheet and exposes himself
Caesar: I fooled you once, I fooled you twice; 'tis me
The Bushie Caesar, flesh and blood, tee hee.
What ghost indeed could ever take my name
Usurp my powers! 'Tis on thee the shame.
O fool me once and 'tis on thee...
Will S.: Coach! Coach!
Come fast, post haste, with all thy tools approach!
Advance, o Grammar-meister! Charge, Wordsmith!
With all your members beat him to a pith!
Ruckus, screams, shouts. Exit Caesar on all fours, dragging bed sheet and baying
Cheneyus: Now I have taken heart, thou vanishest.
Ill spirit…
Alarums, excursions. Enter sponsor 2 with dancing troupe
Sponsor 2: Pesky spots? Zits! Look your best
With Clearasil’s most bestest vanishing cream.
Will S.: The admen, too, mock me!
Cheneyus: My wings take dream,
To use a Bushie phrase. I’ll rule supreme.
He turns to sponsor’s dancing troupe
Come boys and gals, come join the winning team!
Exit Cheneyus, dancing the Gay Gordons with the sponsor’s chorus line
Rummeus: That you have wronged me doth appear this way,
That from our side you strike out Tom DeLay.
Cheneyus: You wronged yourself to write in his support
When he is bound apace for fed’ral court.
It matters not that he did crim’nal wrong
If it stays hidden, not in public song,
Bruited about, as now with Abramoff.
In fact for goodly covert crimes hats off!
I’m all for that; a good Republican
Knows better, ‘struth, than any other man
That crime’s no crime, forsooth, if it remains
Hush-hush, hid, dark, without public’ty’s stains.
Just let me tell you, Rummie, you yourself
(Not whispered soft by some fictitious elf)
Are much condemned to have an itching palm,
To sell and mart - you’re called the golden arm -
To underservers.
Rummeus: I an itching palm?
How durst thou thus to scratch my itch!
Alarums, excursions. Enter sponsor 2
Sponsor 2: Use balm!
Rub not! Scratch not! Thy jock itch we can cure,
With Mycatin thy crural comfort’s sure.
Fresh alarums, excursions
We equal opportunity fulfill
For itching feminines use Vagisil!
Cools instantly; stops burning, irritation;
Becalms at once with fast alleviation.
Exit sponsor 2
Rummeus: The golden arm? Why, thou with Halliburton
For giant profit-gouging raised the curtain
In Eye-rak with no bids, and over-chargin’
One hundred-fold they multiplied their margin.
On oil, too, you let them write the rules;
Ill-gotten gains fore’er till Hades cools
Will they now reap.
Cheneyus: But that behind closed doors
I did, not on the House and Senate floors.
To take thy phrasing, ‘tis the known unknowns
O’er which our enemies would fain pick bones,
When known unknowns transform themselves to knowns;
Or rather unknown knowns leave undertones
‘Pon which the hateful media megaphones
Can zero in. Likewise, the shown unshowns,
When shown unshowns transform themselves to showns,
Will overwhelm our plans with groans and moans
And thus constrain…
Rummeus: Zounds, ‘sblood, I understood
My phrase once, but now cannot see the wood
For all the known unknown trees that you plant
To obfuscate my plain speaking’s clear chant.
Cheneyus: The secrecy ‘tis, stupid, not the fact,
That, now no longer secret, harms our pact
That struck the foremost man of all this world.
Thus doomed by snares of Abramoff unfurled,
Do not defend DeLay, that hot potato,
E’en if beloved by Institute named Cato.
Rummeus: Don’t call me stupid. I will run you through.
Cheneyus: Dost think, ‘cause I had better things to do
Than serve in army that you make me quake?
Rummeus: At least I served in th’ navy, goodness sake,
If long ago.
Cheneyus: Thinkst thou’rt the better soldier?
Rummeus: I never better said, but I am oldier.
Cheneyus: But, Rummie, we cannot enlist DeLay.
Fine deeds, once covert, in the light of day
Lose fineness, alchemised to crime by leaks.
Alarums, excursions sennet,. Enter Caesar
Caesar: Did I hear leaks? Leaker-in-Chief now speaks.
For who, think ye, did leak top secret sleaze
On non-existent WMDs?
Cheneyus: He’s back! The Bushie Caesar lives again!
‘Twas not illusion; ‘tis a real-time bane.
Rummeus: It’s like that ghastly Kenny in South Park.
Cheneyus: What’s that?
Rummeus: A TV show I watch, a lark,
Something in common with the troops to prate
In lieu of body armour sent too late
By me to Eye-rak. Then I smoked…
Cheneyus: Your point?
Rummeus: To more relate to them I smoked a joint.
Cheneyus: The Kenny point!
Rummeus: Ah, yes! Each week they kill
Him off, each time they shout and yell at will
‘Oh my God! They killed Kenny! You bastards!’
Yet ev'ry time he's there, upon the mastheads;
Each week he’s back, unscathed, tra-la, alive
Caesar: O do go on some more! I love this jive
Cheneyus: What shall we do?
Rummeus: What shall we do?
Will S.: Oi Vey!
Ay me, can I ne’er e’er sweep him away?
Yet in this scene I did give him a post,
To come back later, not now, as a ghost.
Will no one rid me of this meddlesome priest?
Writing C. O dear, you’ve slipped a gear in this fine feast
Of verse, for Bushie is no priest; a knave
Is he, a bungler and a dolt most grave;
But you have leap-frogged from the days of yore
To Becket film of 1964.
But do not take this meddling fool so hard,
I have that anti-Bushie plan, O Bard:
Cry ‘Havoc!’ Yet again let slip my hounds.
O Grammar-meister! Move your arse now! Zounds!
You too, Wordsmithy, move now!
Ruckus, screams, shouts. Exit Caesar, limping
Cheneyus: He is gone.
Our Kenny’s crossed another Rubicon.
Rummeus: Could it have been, or did it just so seem?
Alarums, excursions, sennet,. Enter Caesar
Caesar: Our nation now finds hope, where wings take dream…
Cheneyus: O Gawd! I recognize that misspeak there.
Rummeus: Me too! Good golly! Golly! What a scare!
Will S.: Our play’s hijacker’s back, turning to farce
Our finest verses. Coach, go kick his arse!
Caesar: Indeed I'm back to swagger, smirk and boast.
You thought, O Will, to downgrade me to ghost?
Poor Willy! There is nought that I can't fix.
I crossed the Rubicon, now 'cross the Styx
I sail triumphant.
Will S.: Writing coach, avaunt!
Grammarian! Wordsmith! repay the taunt!
Ruckus, screams, shouts. Exit Caesar, limping
Cheneyus: These inauspicious come-backs by the Bush,
McCainus too now on his way, do push
Us that in our relation’s wid’ning tear
The shredding rents and breaches we repair
Alarums, excursions. Enter sponsor 1
Sponsor 1: Repairs? And rents? And tears? Oil fires? All
We do. For us no order is too tall,
At Halliburton’s KBR offshoot,
With no-bid contracts we pull in the loot.
Exit sponsor 1
Cheneyus: But Rummie, please, let’s drop DeLay the Hammer.
Rummeus: So be it, then! Let’s put him in the slammer!
Cheneyus: There is a slide in the affairs of men…
Will S.: O who! O what! O how! O why! O when!
One noble quote I give him, one alone,
And yet he mangles it, turns gold to stone.
A single line to Brutus Chenie thus,
And twisty-cornered mouth turns it to puss.
So noxious is the Bushie tongue’s bird flu
That it infects the whole damned effing crew,
No more! No more! I quit! I quit! I quit!
Writing C. O do not quit me! I will deal with it.
[Ruckus, screams, shouts]
Cheneyus: Ouch! Ooh! My ear! He stuck me with a pen.
What? Oh! …a tide in the affairs of men
Which taken at the flood leads on to fortune…
Rummeus: ‘Tis late. Let us retire, I thee importune.
Cheneyus: O, Scooterus!
Enter Scooterus in hair curlers
My gown.
Exit Scooterus
Rummie, good night
And good repose!
Rummeus: May ne’er again such fight
Come ‘twixt our souls.
Cheneyus: Arseholes?
Rummeus: You stole my schtick!
Act two scene one I cracked that, Chenie Dick!
Enter Scooterus with gown and blow up doll
Now with our souls let’s swear the faith to keep.
Good golly! Ouch!
Exit Rummeus, stumbling over his toga hem
Cheneyus: O Scoot, thou seemst asleep.
Poor knave, I blame thee not; thou art o’erwatched
E’er since old Caesar’s leaks thou went’st and botched.
Where’s thy guitar?
Scooterus: I left it in the aisle.
Cheneyus: Canst thou hold up thy heavy eyes awhile
And touch thy instrument a strain or two?
Scooterus plays rockaby baby
Thus I the Eye-rak bungle do eschew
With song and dance to soothe…
Scooterus falls asleep. Enter the ghost of Caesar
Ha, who comes here,
That mak'st my blood cold and my hair to rear?
Speak to me what thou art?
Ghost: Thy evil axis
Will S.: Ay me! Beyond oi vey is axis, schmaxis!
Cheneyus: Ay me! ‘tis Rummie’s Kenny Bushie Caesar
Will S.: E’en as a ghost he flubs. Cancel his visa!
Ghost: A ghost? I thought ‘a goat’ as in that book
I read on 9/11 when that crook
Osama tried Pet Goat to interrupt
With sneak attack so vile and abrupt.
I did not let him, though; kept reading on
And on… and on… and on… and on… and on,
Until by time Katrina’s cyclone blew
I had at last made it to chapter two.
Not even then would I brook interruption
And kept on reading through all that destruction.
I love so My Pet Goat!
Will S.: I cannot take
A moment more this charlatan, this fake.
Cheneyus: The Kenny Bushie Caesar doth reprise
His never-ending comeback-kid surprise.
Will S.: Axis ’tis not, you schmuck! ‘Tis spirist written
Full clear. Coach hit him, leave him sorely smitten!
[scuffle, sound of blows, screams]
Ghost: Ooh! Ow! My knackers! Ouch! Alright! I cede.
Do cease already! Th’ written text I heed.
Thy evil spirit, Chenie.
Cheneyus: Why com’st nigh?
Ghost: To tell thee thou shalt see me at Popeye.
Will S.: Popeye? You dunderheaded fool!
Breaks down in sobs
Boo hoo!
This is the most unkindest cut. Et tu,
Most brutish ghost! ‘Tis Philippi I wrote,
Where doth McCainus sink Cheneyus’ boat.
The ghost throws off his bed sheet and exposes himself
Caesar: I fooled you once, I fooled you twice; 'tis me
The Bushie Caesar, flesh and blood, tee hee.
What ghost indeed could ever take my name
Usurp my powers! 'Tis on thee the shame.
O fool me once and 'tis on thee...
Will S.: Coach! Coach!
Come fast, post haste, with all thy tools approach!
Advance, o Grammar-meister! Charge, Wordsmith!
With all your members beat him to a pith!
Ruckus, screams, shouts. Exit Caesar on all fours, dragging bed sheet and baying
Cheneyus: Now I have taken heart, thou vanishest.
Ill spirit…
Alarums, excursions. Enter sponsor 2 with dancing troupe
Sponsor 2: Pesky spots? Zits! Look your best
With Clearasil’s most bestest vanishing cream.
Will S.: The admen, too, mock me!
Cheneyus: My wings take dream,
To use a Bushie phrase. I’ll rule supreme.
He turns to sponsor’s dancing troupe
Come boys and gals, come join the winning team!
Exit Cheneyus, dancing the Gay Gordons with the sponsor’s chorus line
Saturday, October 16, 2010
13 - The Tragedy of Bushius Caesar Act 4 Scene 2
Drum. Enter Cheneyus, Scooterus, advisers, guards and army
Cheneyus: Stand ho!
Chief guard: Pass out the word. Now ho and stand!
Cheneyus: What now? Where’s Rummie? Is he close at hand?
Scooterus: He is indeed, and soon will be with us
Although he now seems less punctilious.
Cheneyus: How did he greet you? Let me be resolved
That constancy stays firm and undissolved.
Scooterus: With courtesy and with respect enough
But lacking in the former warmer stuff
As he hath used of old.
Cheneyus: Thou dost describe
A hot friend cooling. Ever note the vibe
When love begins to sicken and to shake
And causes flashes hot, night sweats, headache?
Alarums, excursions. Enter sponsor 2
Sponsor 2: No need to suffer for that women’s cause!
Use Prempro now to douse thy menopause!
Exit sponsor 2
Vox populi: For our fair land ‘tis not the poxing menopause
I fear, but worst and worstest with these sons of whores.
Will S.: My fine superlatives doubled hold they to mockery?
Writing C.: Nay, imitation’s mostest finest form of flattery.
Enter Rummeus and his powers
Cheneyus: He is arrived.
Rummeus: I must be, since I‘m here;
For that no need for future-seeing seer.
Most noble brother, you have done me wrong.
Cheneyus: My mouth is twisted, yet straight is my song.
How wrong thee did I?
Alarums, excursions, sennet. Enter Caesar
Caesar: Ha, ‘tis me, I’m back!
With truth misspoken, with your plots so black
You thought to oust me, to eliminate
Me, but you did misunderestimate
My cunning wiles.
Will S.: 'Sblood! What does he here
Thus swaggering and smirking? Fully clear
Is it that he is gone, that he is toast,
Ne'er more to foul this stage, but as a ghost
Returning in scene three, not here. Yet now,
Full-bodied, flesh and blood, he takes a bow?
Our cast's possessed, zounds. I can take no more
Will faints
Writing C.: Sweet Will, come to! I can the play restore.
My plan! Remember? Grammar-Meister, quick!
And you, Wordsmith, avaunt! Go do your trick.
Into the fray, move smart now, firmly push
From stage yond poxing effing Frankenbush.
Ruckus, screams, shouts. Exit Caesar, limping
Will S.: Ah me! I had the vapours!
Rummeus: Did you see
What I just saw?
Cheneyus: It could not now be he;
He’s toast.
Rummeus: Perchance we do hallucinate,
Illusions coming from something we ate.
Cheneyus: That’s it! That gave me quite a turn. The wine
Hath blame; that vintage was like turpentine.
Rummeus: It was just vapours. Of my grievance now
Let’s talk!
Cheneyus: Not here! Within my tent powwow!
Exeunt omnes, dirty dancing, but for Cheneyus and Rummeus
Cheneyus: Stand ho!
Chief guard: Pass out the word. Now ho and stand!
Cheneyus: What now? Where’s Rummie? Is he close at hand?
Scooterus: He is indeed, and soon will be with us
Although he now seems less punctilious.
Cheneyus: How did he greet you? Let me be resolved
That constancy stays firm and undissolved.
Scooterus: With courtesy and with respect enough
But lacking in the former warmer stuff
As he hath used of old.
Cheneyus: Thou dost describe
A hot friend cooling. Ever note the vibe
When love begins to sicken and to shake
And causes flashes hot, night sweats, headache?
Alarums, excursions. Enter sponsor 2
Sponsor 2: No need to suffer for that women’s cause!
Use Prempro now to douse thy menopause!
Exit sponsor 2
Vox populi: For our fair land ‘tis not the poxing menopause
I fear, but worst and worstest with these sons of whores.
Will S.: My fine superlatives doubled hold they to mockery?
Writing C.: Nay, imitation’s mostest finest form of flattery.
Enter Rummeus and his powers
Cheneyus: He is arrived.
Rummeus: I must be, since I‘m here;
For that no need for future-seeing seer.
Most noble brother, you have done me wrong.
Cheneyus: My mouth is twisted, yet straight is my song.
How wrong thee did I?
Alarums, excursions, sennet. Enter Caesar
Caesar: Ha, ‘tis me, I’m back!
With truth misspoken, with your plots so black
You thought to oust me, to eliminate
Me, but you did misunderestimate
My cunning wiles.
Will S.: 'Sblood! What does he here
Thus swaggering and smirking? Fully clear
Is it that he is gone, that he is toast,
Ne'er more to foul this stage, but as a ghost
Returning in scene three, not here. Yet now,
Full-bodied, flesh and blood, he takes a bow?
Our cast's possessed, zounds. I can take no more
Will faints
Writing C.: Sweet Will, come to! I can the play restore.
My plan! Remember? Grammar-Meister, quick!
And you, Wordsmith, avaunt! Go do your trick.
Into the fray, move smart now, firmly push
From stage yond poxing effing Frankenbush.
Ruckus, screams, shouts. Exit Caesar, limping
Will S.: Ah me! I had the vapours!
Rummeus: Did you see
What I just saw?
Cheneyus: It could not now be he;
He’s toast.
Rummeus: Perchance we do hallucinate,
Illusions coming from something we ate.
Cheneyus: That’s it! That gave me quite a turn. The wine
Hath blame; that vintage was like turpentine.
Rummeus: It was just vapours. Of my grievance now
Let’s talk!
Cheneyus: Not here! Within my tent powwow!
Exeunt omnes, dirty dancing, but for Cheneyus and Rummeus
Friday, October 15, 2010
12 - The Tragedy of Bushius Caesar Act 4 Scene 1
Enter McCainus, Georgius P. Bushius and Hastertus
McCainus: ‘Tis meet we meet. Hail, welcome, Georgie P!
Georgius P. Is that an order? Some spot drug test?
McCainus: Gee!
Zip up at once, post haste, thou preppy fool!
It is thy second name, now hide thy tool!
'Tis P for Prescott; after great-grandad
They named thee, not the P for pee, dumb lad!
Georgie P. And all these years I thought it was for bladder
That they did dub me, not for great-grandadda
Will S.: Ye gods! The fam’ly genes do persevere
And they will out despite my verse, I fear.
Unto the third gen’ration God did shout
A-visiting he’d go. Here ‘tis borne out.
Writing C. Fear not, sweet Will, I will a plan forthwith
Devise with grammar-meister and wordsmith
To counter thus our anguish.
McCainus: Let’s divide
Prestige and power when we override
Poor feeble Chenie. Let us now defuse
All those who may our rise to pow’r refuse.
Do thou, Hastertus, to the House make haste
And all our foes and say-nays do thou waste.
Alarums, excursions. Enter sponsor 1
Sponsor 1: Who runs the waste disposal in Eye-rak
For all our troops? ‘Tis us, great us, we’re back!
At Halliburton yet again we did
Gain lucre-loaded contract sans a bid.
Exit sponsor 1
Hastertus: Then I will off to expedite our plan.
Exit Hastertus
McCainus: This is a slight, unmeritable man
In worth if not in girth, but our context
Doth need his status’ pretext, since he’s next
In Constitution’s predetermined line
On ladder’s lofty climb to pow’r divine,
Sith after Chenie, first in line as Vice,
The speaker of the House picks up the dice.
So thus we use him, but it is not fit,
The threefold world divided, he should sit
One of the three to share it, he and we,
So his use used, we off him, Georgie P.
Georgie P.: Another drug test? Pass the urine cup.
McCainus: No! P for Prescott, not for pee. Zip up,
Thou blithering twat-wit!
Georgie P.: Oh, I see your point,
That we us two ourselves alone anoint.
McCainus: Amen! But first united we confront
And thwart, all three, the Chenie-Rummie stunt.
Georgie P.: Let us do so, for we are at the stake
And bayed about. Let’s move, full speed, Chrissake!
Alarums, excursions. Enter sponsor 2
Sponsor 2: The greasy steak is baying at your bowels?
Take Pepto Bismol now to soothe your howls.
Exit sponsor 2
Exeunt McCainus and Georgie P., dancing the Macarena
McCainus: ‘Tis meet we meet. Hail, welcome, Georgie P!
Georgius P. Is that an order? Some spot drug test?
McCainus: Gee!
Zip up at once, post haste, thou preppy fool!
It is thy second name, now hide thy tool!
'Tis P for Prescott; after great-grandad
They named thee, not the P for pee, dumb lad!
Georgie P. And all these years I thought it was for bladder
That they did dub me, not for great-grandadda
Will S.: Ye gods! The fam’ly genes do persevere
And they will out despite my verse, I fear.
Unto the third gen’ration God did shout
A-visiting he’d go. Here ‘tis borne out.
Writing C. Fear not, sweet Will, I will a plan forthwith
Devise with grammar-meister and wordsmith
To counter thus our anguish.
McCainus: Let’s divide
Prestige and power when we override
Poor feeble Chenie. Let us now defuse
All those who may our rise to pow’r refuse.
Do thou, Hastertus, to the House make haste
And all our foes and say-nays do thou waste.
Alarums, excursions. Enter sponsor 1
Sponsor 1: Who runs the waste disposal in Eye-rak
For all our troops? ‘Tis us, great us, we’re back!
At Halliburton yet again we did
Gain lucre-loaded contract sans a bid.
Exit sponsor 1
Hastertus: Then I will off to expedite our plan.
Exit Hastertus
McCainus: This is a slight, unmeritable man
In worth if not in girth, but our context
Doth need his status’ pretext, since he’s next
In Constitution’s predetermined line
On ladder’s lofty climb to pow’r divine,
Sith after Chenie, first in line as Vice,
The speaker of the House picks up the dice.
So thus we use him, but it is not fit,
The threefold world divided, he should sit
One of the three to share it, he and we,
So his use used, we off him, Georgie P.
Georgie P.: Another drug test? Pass the urine cup.
McCainus: No! P for Prescott, not for pee. Zip up,
Thou blithering twat-wit!
Georgie P.: Oh, I see your point,
That we us two ourselves alone anoint.
McCainus: Amen! But first united we confront
And thwart, all three, the Chenie-Rummie stunt.
Georgie P.: Let us do so, for we are at the stake
And bayed about. Let’s move, full speed, Chrissake!
Alarums, excursions. Enter sponsor 2
Sponsor 2: The greasy steak is baying at your bowels?
Take Pepto Bismol now to soothe your howls.
Exit sponsor 2
Exeunt McCainus and Georgie P., dancing the Macarena
Thursday, October 14, 2010
11 - The Tragedy of Bushius Caesar Act 3 Scene 3
Enter Will Shakespeare and Writing Coach in a tizzy
Writing C O, Will, we have a problem mighty grave.
Act 3, scene 3, let’s ditch, we cannot save.
For into this, our updated straightjacket,
No way can we torment th' ironical packet,
Wherein we played the trick of Cinna’s name,
Conspirator and poet named the same.
And Cinna poet faced the lethal ire
Of rabblement, not he that did conspire.
Our Cinna to Nortona did we change,
Too hard, I think, to bid thee rearrange.
Alarums, excursions. Enter sponsor 1
Sponsor 1: Did I hear ‘hard to bid?’ We are the king
At Halliburton of the no-bid thing.
Exit sponsor 1
Will S. Too right! Though new game could we play with Cinna,
Since each and ev’ry man here is a sinner,
From Bushie Caesar, Chenie, one and all,
To Ashie, Fristus, Anus, they should fall.
But with Nortona, ‘tis a fun brain-bender
To fit her since Cinna we did transgender.
She never met an industry polluter
Whom she did not clasp to her bosom. Shoot her,
As they did tear Cinna from limb to limb,
Mistaking him the poet for t’other him.
Now who could we Nortona thus mistake,
That tree-hating big business-loving flake?
But too complex, you’re right; let’s dwell no more
On this brain-teaser. Onwards to Act 4!
Exit Will Shakespeare and Writing Coach doing a do-si-do
Writing C O, Will, we have a problem mighty grave.
Act 3, scene 3, let’s ditch, we cannot save.
For into this, our updated straightjacket,
No way can we torment th' ironical packet,
Wherein we played the trick of Cinna’s name,
Conspirator and poet named the same.
And Cinna poet faced the lethal ire
Of rabblement, not he that did conspire.
Our Cinna to Nortona did we change,
Too hard, I think, to bid thee rearrange.
Alarums, excursions. Enter sponsor 1
Sponsor 1: Did I hear ‘hard to bid?’ We are the king
At Halliburton of the no-bid thing.
Exit sponsor 1
Will S. Too right! Though new game could we play with Cinna,
Since each and ev’ry man here is a sinner,
From Bushie Caesar, Chenie, one and all,
To Ashie, Fristus, Anus, they should fall.
But with Nortona, ‘tis a fun brain-bender
To fit her since Cinna we did transgender.
She never met an industry polluter
Whom she did not clasp to her bosom. Shoot her,
As they did tear Cinna from limb to limb,
Mistaking him the poet for t’other him.
Now who could we Nortona thus mistake,
That tree-hating big business-loving flake?
But too complex, you’re right; let’s dwell no more
On this brain-teaser. Onwards to Act 4!
Exit Will Shakespeare and Writing Coach doing a do-si-do
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