I don't usually recycle older material on my weblog, but
I'm completely fucking lazy I just found a piece from my old weblog that impressed me with its pure insanity and unwillingness to please its audience. Anyway, come join me in a journey back in time to a simpler era, back in 2003, when the US was at war with Iraq and I spent my afternoons drinking draught at a faux-Irish bar. How times have changed.
Yesterday [March 14, 2003] I promised you an extravaganza (Waitress: What'll ya have? Customer: burger, fries, extra vaganza on my patty. Waitress: Extra vaganza is 50 cents. Customer: What a rip off. My mother keeps homemade vaganza in a Mason jar on a shelf in the basement) featuring Anton Szandor LaVey, Marty Feldman and Gilles de Rais. What follows is an excerpt. It is not the entire work. If this were the entire work you would receive instructions on where to go and what to do next (hint: find the nearest field and burrow in for the hard years ahead).
A graveyard at night. Full moon. Marty Feldman, TV and film comedian, stands next to an open grave. Anton Szandor LaVey, head of the Church of Satan, stands on the other side of the grave.
LaVey: By attending Church and worshipping the archon Jehovah, you actually serve the Devil with your hypocritical lusts. Truly, you fool, it is at my altar that you worship.
Feldman: [Holds up title card] Pardon me, I just came from a silent film.
Gilles de Rais, famed 14th century French nobleman noted for raping and killing young boys, runs up and stands next to Feldman. He is out of breath, and holds up his hand to indicate that he wishes to speak. Feldman and LaVey wait for him to catch his wind.
de Rais: Bonjour! Je cherche des beaux ephebes pour ravir. [Hello! He searches for beautiful children to ravish]
LaVey: I approve.
Feldman: [Holds up sign] I'm taken aback, but you seem like a nice fellow all the same.
de Rais: [brandishes a knife] J'inflige une blessure du couteau à vous! [He inflicts a wound of the knife to Marty Feldman!]
Feldman: [holds up sign] You can't kill me; I'm already dead.
Feldman falls into open grave.
Awkward pause. LaVey and de Rais stare at each other. LaVey clears his throat.
LaVey: You know -
de Rais: Je vous poignarde! [He knifes LaVey!] Et... je me frappe d'un coup de couteau! [And... he strikes himself a blow of the knife!]
LaVey falls into open grave. We hear Marty Feldman give a startled yell.
de Rais: Alors, je n'ai jamais conjugé tous des verbes en français. [Alors, he never conjugated all the French verbs.]
[He falls into the open grave as well. Pause. Marty Feldman yells again.]
When I read stuff like this it strikes me that I've been entirely too ingratiating and kind to my audience. From now on I'm dedicating my site to short plays featuring French monsters of history.