You, Kids, Git Off My Lawn. Paper and Apes

        I dreamed I was performing in a comedy quartet. The stage we got to was without a microphone. There was an audience of about 700, and I knew that things would be tough for my co-members (An Asian man, a Black woman and an Hispanic man.) I spotted some microphones off to the side of the stage, so ran over to them.

        I pretended the cables were too short to make it all the way to the center of the stage. So I pretended the wire pulled me up short and did a pratfall. Laughs everywhere. I pulled one of the mikes off and handed it to the Asian man, who seemed to be the group’s leader.

        “Wireless,” I spoke into the other mic.

        He took the mike and looked at it, held it to his lips.

        “Really?” He asked, and I actually said into the other mic in a really fake accent, “rearry?”

        More laughter.

        He looked at me and turned back to the audience. I proceeded to mimic them doing their introductions, getting a ton of laughs. When I got to the last one I switched over to really bad Spanish. The other two glared at me.

        I dropped the nine or ten hoops of mic cable on my microphone, offering it to my last victim. Gales of laughter. He took the mic, pointing me to the corner. I left the stage and brought out a ream of 11x17 paper and a stool. I pulled out a sheet, turned my back to the audience, and made a quick dunce cap. More laughter.

        While the three of them did their first routine, which I knew would end in them acting like kids playing statue maker, I made several other paper props. (A samurai hat, an apron a bishops miter, and a GI style flat cap.)

        “You, kids, Git off My Lawn.”

        Huge amounts of laughter from the audience. The three stopped, shocked. (Well fake shocked.)

        I switched to the bishop’s miter. “Blessed Children all full of innocent laughter,” I said in a gentle voice, “ GIT OFF MY LAWN OR BURN IN HELL!”

        I switched to the samurai hat, apparently we were in Japan or somewhere with a large Japanese population, the audience laughed for about three minutes, every time they would start to die down I would start with “Eeeee!” and the laughter would start up again.

        I then said “You, kids, get off my lawn!” in Japanese. (I had learned it by rote along with several other Japanese non-sequitors.) The audience said it along with me. Apparently they knew this part of the act.

        I then switched to the apron. “You kids, milk and cookies?” I held up three paper cylinders. “They’re not poison, really.”

        The three of them shrunk back in terror.

        I took off the apron and stuck out my gut. “I just got a new kitten, you wanna come inside and see?” In my most pervy voice.

        “Now that’s just wrong!” the black woman chided me, pointing back to my stool. I put on my dunce cap and sat down with my back to the audience. More laughter. I started folding as they did their next bit.

        Lots of audience participation and at the point where they were doing their war movie satire, I switched back to the military flat cap and threw a paper airplane out towards the audience, “rat at at at at at,” I made machine gun noises. The plane flipped over, releasing a handful of confetti and then spiraling out of control into the front row.

Laughter.

I saluted my partners. “Mission accomplished, sir.”

More laughter.

I pulled out another paper airplane to throw at the audience.

        “No, you’ll put some one’s eye out!” and

        “We don’t have enough insurance.”

        I crunched it up in a little ball while they were yelling at me and flipped it out to the audience from behind my back.

        All three of them pointed to the stool when I pulled out yet another plane. I started back to the stool and then turned back and tossed it at their backs. I turned around, feigning innocence.

        Laughter.

        The plane looped up into the air, flipped and came back, striking me in the head. Another pratfall. More laughs. I slowly go up, sat on the stool, turned around, and put on the dunce cap. The Asian came over and stomped on the plane. I mimed sobs and when they were fully ensconced in their next bit I slipped down and recovered the plane. I smoothed it out and when the next bit was done tossed it at them, they ducked and it sailed all the way out to the last rows of the theater.

         “Oooh! ” and “Ahhh!” like the audience was watching fireworks.

        “That was the best one yet.” The woman said.

        “No blood.” I responded.

        “Mom, let’s go see the monkey!” the Hispanic gentleman said in a childlike voice.

        I quickly wadded up paper and stuffed it into my over-sized back pockets. Then the gorilla impersonation, complete with big butt sticking out to the audience. The troupe teased me for awhile; I did the beating on chest thing, the puffing out my cheeks thing, and finally I reached behind me and took out a wad of paper from my back pocket and threw it at them, they ran off screaming. I then beat my chest at the audience and did the same. I climbed up on the stool and tossed some paper airplanes into the air around my head, swatting them out of the sky.

        Huge amounts of screams and laughter. The rest of my troupe came out in safari hats with big nets and dragged me off.

Ad astra per technica,

FF