Ristau

By

Clinton A. Johnston

No Shame

6/21/02

 

[Done � la Todd Ristau�s legendary Rabbit � fast, fevered, with rural American accent.]

 

[Long pause, just enough to make the audience uncomfortable.� Starts in change light from the audience and then moves to the stage.]

 

Just a dream!?!

 

Sure it was just a dream!� Like the airplane, or the microwave, or the electric eel!

 

Or like Orville Jorgensen out in Shawondasse.� Always in between worlds, that boy, born right smack dab on the border of Iowa and Illinois.� Every night, when he would fall asleep, he�d meet a vision of his own toe trying to kill him.� He�d look down to see his toe crawling up his body, ripping him apart, pulling a trail of bone and blood and flesh behind it, sittin, there screamin�, �I�m gonna� kill you, Orville!� I�m gonna� kill you!�

 

His mother said it was just indigestion.� He�d stop eatin� those pork rinds, he�d be okay.� That cousin of his, went to that university, kept trying to make some Freudian shit out of it.� Everyone else said, �It�s just a dream, Orville!� It�s just a dream!�

 

They weren�t sayin� that when Orville limped into the doctor�s office with a fresh, severed toe in one hand and a trail of blood leading behind him for blocks.� They said, �What�d you do, Orville!�

 

He said, �It was him or me!� I made it so I could finally get some sleep, goddammit!�

 

It wasn�t just a dream then.� No, sir.� It was an event!

 

 

So, there I was in this smoky pit of fire and piss, rivers of the stillborn raining down on us like consumptive toads!� And in front of me was the most hideous Heavenly vision.� It had the hips of Elvis Presley, Dean Martin�s hair, the eyes of Ry Cooder, the legs of Buddy Holly�s dog, little toothbrush moustache above and below, the mummified hands of a 92-year-old Dolly Parton, and a sequined, shark skin jacket that read, �Enjoy the trip, folks!� I�m takin� ya� ta� Hell with me!�� On its head were things that kept switching between horns and Playboy bunny ears!� And in those crinkly, country singer crone claws, he was knittin� something out of my grandma!

 

I said, �Whatchu� doin�, Rabbit?�

 

And he said, �I�m fixin� to make me a city!�

 

And I said, �You can�t make a city out of my grandma!�

 

And he said, �Oh!� I didn�t know that!� and ZIP!� There go my grandma�s eyes, and they�re city streets.

 

I said, �She�s one that bore me and mine for generations.��

 

And he said, �Is that so?� and ZIP!� There go her bones and teeth, and they�re buildings and cars.

 

And I said, �She�s one whose desires would wake up an entire county come some sultry, summer night!�

 

He said, �Well that�s very interesting?� and ZIP!� There goes her hair, and it�s the telephone wires and power lines.� And ZIP!� There go her hopes and dreams!� And ZIP!� There goes the love she never confessed to anyone!� And ZIP!� There got the stories she never even told herself!� And ZIP!� ZIP!� ZIP!� And soon I was standing in the middle of a huge city � skyscrapers and subways and parks and taxis and fountains and pigeons, people running to and fro, havin� their lunch, and not knowing or not caring that they were trampin� around on the remains of my grandma!

 

And he said, �Whattuya� think?�

 

And I said, �Surely this is an abomination!�

 

And he said, �Abomination, Hell!� Shit, boy!� If the Good Lord can raise you up from mud and twigs and ticks, I can sure as shit birth a city outta� yer grandma!� Ain�t you learned nothing yet?

 

�It don�t matter what your material is, son � it�s all what you make of it.�

 

[Quick blackout]