Waterparks of the Ancients Act 1

May 7, 2009 at 3:51 pm Leave a comment

In which Icarus threatens the world with insanity only to fall for beautiful Matilda and her charming sister Heimda

[lights up. man with giant angel wings stands on wooden stool. he has a noose around his neck. the noose hangs from the ceiling.]

ICARUS: It’s times when your up that everything wants to come down. How dare they tell me what to think! Am I immortal?

Matilda: Icarus! What the fuck are you doing? We’re barbequing down here.

Icarus: Dead meat has never looked better. Wine is gushing. Gushing from my veins!

[Flute Played]

Heimda: There will be no life in our engagement. Leave him in solitude and maybe my peppers will light up the darkest silence of mind amidst these burnt sausages. Hear my notes after you chew.. And before you swalllow.

[Flute played]

Matilda: But my sister, we can not let this man die. I am with out boyfriend, and this man marks another notch on my journey to spinsterhood!

Icarus: I spin. I spin like a top. A top. A top. Picks his nose and flicks it away. Yes, I’m describing my own stage directions. Isn’t life so Mamet. Mamet like a mamalian. How absurd a mamalian is.

Matilda: Sister, your peppers are driving him mad! [shakes peppers at Icarus, Icarus spins] Don’t light up this man’s darkness, for it is the blind who can be easily taken advantage of and tricked into matrimony.

Icarus: I need a flute. Give me a flute. I want to spin with your peppers before I die oh beautiful Matilda.

Matilda: Give him the flute! Give him the flute! Oh what joy that at last a man has taken interest in me. I was hoping for someone rich, but ah well… this will do. =) and the mad are better in bed.

Heimda: [stare at the two] Once again, I am reminded of how much I prefer plants than humans, the living form which knows not how to slumber without spinning around too much. [lick on the flute] You may have this, Matilda, this should keep things wet for a while. I believe it is now safe for him to dance with these lights off. Peel your skin until you bleed, I will ignore every sound of pain and suffering.

Matilda: Off to your plants dear sweet sister of bilitis and thanks for the flute! A husband I am bringing home =)

Icarus: Heimda, plant a flower in your garden for me. I will now lay in my final resting place.

Matilda: Wait. Wait. You’re going to die? Nevermind. Let’s go work on our garden.

Matilda: Oh wait. Is my body your final resting place? Like the opening of a sedan hatchback into the mysteries of space, your words are a flurry of intentions, as if Michel Serres were conducting an opera via babblefish, intention is lost and only beauty remains. The imagination will make what it will of peppers and their darkness, but believe me my pepper is not only dark, but sweet.

Icarus: Uhhh… Matilda, your peppers are burning! (there is a giant black smoke that comes from the barbeque)

Heimda: [blushed, speaking in anger tone to cover her embarassment] Now that your peppers are consumed, very well then [brush the dirt off her robe], I have planned to leave these flowers rotten in my garden. It looks beautiful lifeless. [pick up the flute covered in slime off the ground] I shall carry on the next musical piece. I will make music, you hear? My own music!. And do not interrupt!

[Heimda walks to a lion waiting for her at the door]

Icarus: A lion!? You brought a fuckin lion!

Matilda: We got it when I got my operation. Trannies need lions, men are always knocking at our door. Now come on dear Icarus, Heimda is going to play a jolly tune.

Icarus: I really need to get some new friends. Coming! (gets down off table. Grabs a pepper from near the barbeque and bights into it. walks towards Matilda) Shall we dearest? (giving his arm to her)

ok one more line:
[icarus walks off to the bedroom]
Matilda: Oh Dear Icarus. Tonight we will go tube’n down the water parks of the ancients, where the robots swoon and the water lillies break the noon. Peppers? We need no such, for the betroved making their way down the Khmer waterlines into the aqueducts of the great Hmong cities, need no spice, merely the lover’s kiss.

[Heimda is being herself most, panting]

Heimda: This is the way.. this is the way… What do I care about Homo Erectus. Erect. That is perhaps their only decent quality. Hmm.. your skin is so soft and hairy, my dear. Rawr! Oh, how I adore animals! I feel like I am one of them… I am becoming one with them!

[A lion roars]

Entry filed under: media.

My review of the Crying Light… kinda Mach-20 by Laurie Anderson Fragment

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