Filed under: — @jphoganorg @ 8:21 am

***RIP:  Paul Newman. >>>  Ghost of Paul Newman, please take your mark.***


 >>> Denties De Ville’s Tragedy - a play of bad actors <<<

{stage} King Blythe III enters from left being pushed, orderly like, in a wheel chair.

{stage} Queen Rodham, with smoke and fire around, naturally, rises from middle of stage floor, in red pant suit.

{stage}  Above a yet unidentified ghost seems dominant and present.

>Curtain now open and now longer swaying distractingly to: dogs, dogs, and more dogs.

>Queen Rodham, rising in red has unleashed the hounds, no, no, no, not hounds but?

{stage} Scene still covered with smoke and mirrors - hard to see what is happening.  Ghost appearing to fade but somehow still seems dominant.

>King Blythe III:   Are we there yet?   Are we there yet?  Are we there yet?

>Queen Rodham:  (no comment)  (no sense of noticing presence of King)

>Dalmatian one:   woof, woof, woof!!!  Follow me!!! We got to get out of this place.

[Dramatic note:  playwright is in a job retraining program - trying to stay out of President way - still uniformed to writ differences between Holy Muslim ghosts and Holy Christian ghosts.  Playwright teaching himself to be better writter - Gail Collins seems a fan.  Anna Quindlan maybe wishing "new" playwright" was still just a poet with only MEET ROSS PEROT, his only short skit/play.]

>Audience (interactive media too):  Where are we?  Where are we?  This doesn’t look like Arkansas, where are we?

>Audience (imt):  Is that an ark?  It that gilded MR. SMITH’S an ark - are we in Georgetown?

>Dalmatian two:   Follow him!  Follow him!  Follow him!  He’s heading north if you get separated.   {most dogs stop and shake, and shake and shake what seems the waters of Hades, the Styx, off them and start running again.

>Newt’s Ghost:  Yes, head north, and fast, may the wind be at your back and friendly.  You got to get out of this place, hurry, and vere clear of the horse glue factory.

{stage}  Identity of "Newt’s" "ghost" still not revealed nor its traditions though seeming dominant, somehow, still.  Looks a little like Dr. Livingstone or maybe Lawrence of Arabia - looks can be deceiving.

{stage}  Two small young Dalmatian puppies seem left behind and oddly "matching" enough to be a keen pair of matching gloves or maybe boots.   Woofs are heard - concerned - and seemingly "approaching".

>King Blythe III:  Are we there yet?  Are we there yet?  Are we there yet?

>Queen Rodham:   Rahm?  Have you seen my trident, I can’t seem to find my trident?  Rahm?  Did Blagojevich take it home again under pretense that he would set up the "Birthplace of Queen Rodham Museum" for me now that a "Queen Cruella Rodham Presidential Library Museum" no longer in our jokes and small talk?

>Newt’s ghost:   ooooooo,  oooooooo,  oooooooo, Ha! Ha! Ha!

>Audience (imt):  in spontaneous outbursting of:  run! ru…n!  Ru…un! RUN! RUN! RUN!!!

>Queen Cruella Rodham:  Rahm, I am serious - do you know where my trident is?  And, hey do you have any idea who this "spirit" is hanging around me like an Albatross?  Doesn’t quite look "Chicago" enough to be here, see?

>Newt’s ghost:   Have you read DREAMS OF MY FATHER?  Have you read DREAMS OF MY FATHER?  ooooooooo!   oooooooooo!  oooooooooo!  Ha! Ha! Ha!

{stage}  Albatross around her neck - imagined, to be left to audience imagination hopefully vivid with birds talons clasped around Queen Cruella Rodham’s next but not with "flight"/"lift off" yet effected.  To just the imagination - hopefully not to a gilded-stuffed Albatross as trophy hanging as bling.

>King Blythe III’s orderly (wearing a beret):  You have arrived, dear King - your queen looks, well, looks kinda like, u no omg - out of place.

>Queen Rodham:  Dearest King, finally, what took you so long - cross the river - move towards the heat - and please, dearest, get to that big rock over there at the base of that hill on left.  And please, get out of that chair, it wasn’t a certifiable medical deduction. 

>Queen Rodham:  Why is it so quiet?  Rahm why is it so quiet?  It was so a bustle and noisie just moments ago - hey where have my little fur balls gone?

{stage}  Curtain starts closing and "Newt’s ghost" not seeming to "disappear".


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