Sometimes, at the show, it’s difficult to focus on the show.

The Extemporaneous Theatre Company put on a Whose Line Is It Anyway style improv show on Friday night.  It featured nimble Nick Crawford, charlatan Christopher Davis, crack-up Callie Mauldin, determined Douglas O’Neil, Jr., and degenerate Debbie Smith.

As fate would have it, a pretty blonde showed up late and sat directly in front of me.  She had carefully secured two bobby pins in an X over one ear to hold a lock of hair back from her face.  It’s shocking how impossible that is for me to ignore.  Wise women through history have all known about the man-gnetic properties of interlocked bobby pins.  As I am single and easily distracted by shiny stuff, I am embarrassed to admit that I missed the whole show.  So I’m not entirely competent to write a piece on whatever may have happened on stage.

Instead of commenting on the (I’m sure) fine performance of the Extemporaneous Theatre Company, I present instead a collection of some of my favorite lines from the evening.  These may not be verbatim – or even real – because I’ve already admitted my impediment.  I leave it to the reader to imagine the humorous circumstances surrounding each punchline.  But, if you were there, you could use this to pretend to re-live the performance over and over again.

• “Jehovah, baby!”
• “Verily did the Lord agree with the Prophet Gates.”
• “Hamburgers are jucier if you show your breasts.  Everybody knows that.”
• “I’ll bet that cop was hungry after he saw your yams.”
• “Oh no, I didn’t know you were married to Santa Claus.”
• “Debbie, speaking of milk….”
• “Or else you’re gonna find out what ‘dirty up the chimney’ means.”
• “What’s this smell all aboot?”
• “Hey now, what are all the chicks and Easter eggs aboot?”
• “What goes on, when the lights go off, and I go down.”
• “Even though it is hand-adjacent, I couldn’t feel it.”
• “They even let Jesus play.  You know, the Mexican dishwasher.”
• “Why Aunt Ezelle would want ‘Born to Pimp’ in her grill, I have no idea.”
• “This time think more denim, less orchard.”
• “Applebottom Jeans: Nothing to do with apples.”
• “I don’t even give it a rat fart.”
• “It’s hard to tell with the short hair and the dykey attire.”
• “You know those crazy Irish – they fuck all the time.”
• “It was the stupid little Mick kids.”
• “You know, you don’t smell half-bad.”
• “Yeah, I’ve seen flatter.”
• “You know, we don’t have to use a glove.”
• “Sweet Jehovah in a toll booth!”
• “Wait!  I’m still comically flipping my hat.”
• “I’m all growed up now; it’s a b-cup.”
• “I will have a Donahue party!  Yes!”
• “Yeah, I had a Sally Jesse party last month.”
• “I’ve been a fan of yours, Picasso Dali.”
• “That’s some Broyhill, baby.  That don’t break.”
• “Excuse me for a second.  Someone’s at my back door.”
• “Let’s go see ol’ fancy man – the one with the sandwiches.”
• “Fancy man do not a dollar make.”
• “If some courage; You can muster; Follow me; The man in the duster.”
• “And that’s when I stab you!  Right in the back-clavicle!  ‘Cause you know there’s two sets.”
• “I have a dance minor.”
• “You know what this needs?  Some music by Cher!  If I could turn back time…”
• “Oh!  Right in the crack!”
• “MMmmm, Mama loves some McNuggets.”
• “At least we can do something like baby elephant pitching.”
• “What?  Are you reading the Daily Publishment?  What?  Are you looking at my goozle?”
• “It’s the first day of summer, woman!”
• “I don’t know if I should put you on more drugs or less.”
• “You’re not going to play.  You’re just going to watch.”
• “Snowflake, don’t lose that number.”
• “They call Alabama the Crimson Tide, and I’d like to call you leaving.”
• “Honey, we’re not going to leave Snowflake.  We’re having him euthanized.”

See what you may have been missing?  Thanks again to Douglas O’Neil, Jr., and the other members of the Extemporaneous Theatre Company.

I’m beginning to wonder if I prefer guerilla art.  I’m into punk rock.  I enjoy untrained artist’s paintings – I like the stuff from my friend’s 6-year-old.  I think refrigerator poetry is cool, especially if it’s kinda dirty.  I often view well-played soccer, football, and baseball as art.  Maybe “rowdy” is what I’m after.  Let’s admit it – the fine arts are often too monopolized by people who don’t appreciate things like ninjas, water-balloon fights, zombie movies, talk like a pirate day, South Park, monkeys riding unicorns, and snickering at questionable uses of the word “cornhole”.

Although nowadays he’s mainly regarded as highfalutin, I think Shakespeare would have been into guerilla art.  And he probably would have made a good drinking buddy.  He wrote ghosts, witches, and fairies into his plays.  Lots of crossdressing.  Lots of bloody mayhem and murder.  A good bit of doin’ it (or implied doin’ it).  I’ll bet he and Sam Raimi would have a rip roarin’ good time in collaboration.  Or maybe a little more Robert Rodriguez.

In performing The Complete Works of William Shakespeare (Abridged), the Park Players of Birmingham seem to understand this.  The Bard might have peed on his shoes.  Um, that’s a compliment.  Like, you know, from laughing so hard?  Shakespeare knew the principal secret of theatre – which is to be entertaining.  It’s all about making the groundlings love you.

The cast members (Stephen French, A. Clay Boyce, and D. Connor McVey) are each funny in different ways.  It’s a ticklish subject to write down for all interneternity why someone is funny, so you may just have to go see for yourself.  French is charismatic and quick on his feet, Boyce (possibly a doppelganger of federal judge David Proctor) is a football lovin’ goofball, and McVey makes a likable, if barfing, oaf.  They work well together.

Homewood Park is a perfect setting.  There is seating and a stage area built right into the park.  A perfect place to bring a picnic.  It’s satisfying to watch the puzzled walkers on the oval, circling round and round behind the stage during the play.  The production has got a distinct anti-establishment feel – which I approve of – like the Park Players sprinted in unannounced without a permit, set up, performed theatre, and then ran like hell to their cars before the Homewood police could catch ‘em.  More groups should think about putting together stuff like this – quick and dirty.

This show is free to anyone under 16, which means you really have no reason not to go.  It won’t rain, I promise.  My only warning is that it’s not entirely G-rated, but any un-Disney humor is often wordplay or Shakespearean and may go right over the heads of little kids.

Thanks to Clay Boyce and the Park Players for putting on this show.  I’m looking forward to their version of Taming of the Shrew in August.