Tie

Tie goes to the runner. The runner up? I find my self mis-matched, like 1 lost shoe and a star spangled glove. I am not an animal! Oh wait, that might not be true. Let’s run riot over heaven in our dreams. See how that holds up here in the real world. I have become the one lost shoe of the modern era, or am I the not lost shoe? A good day to live, are the times we are in. A slight hic-up gives way to a gapping pothole in the road before me. As I stand before you with one shoe, well figuratively. To get there in one piece we must make our journey real. But real these days is a big deal, I’m not just some virtual throwback to a vaudeville curse. I am the man that takes a stand. Reaches across the generations, young old, rich poor, but mostly middle aged and middle classed. The Middle of the road is the high point—ever notice that. Stooge me up somehow, some way, in stages please. I gather my thoughts, but there is a hole in the bucket (that’s with an H not a W). Wouldn’t it be great if we could all live in peace for just 5 minutes? Ah no, not really. Right, that wouldn’t help things. I don’t want you to think I am some kind of monster up here. I don’t want you to think I’m some kind of a buffoon. I wouldn’t want you to think I was helpless or hopeless. Or conspiracy minded in the least.
A moment of silence to those without the benefit of false hope.

[the tie is painted]

Ok, that’s better, and then the continuation continues, moving on.

No King

No thinking, no thinking, no thinking, no thinking, not thinking, not thinking, not thinking, not, no, nothing, not thinking nothing, no, no thoughts. No thoughts for thought. Not bought. I can drill the dreams dry. Dry for the daylight screams (most screams come at night). I long to be not king. Like nothing else on earth. Like good days gone and sunsets west. Make my mistake, less fake. Real days for living real lives—you know, you’ve seen it on TV. Made up days, they run together, inside my sparks that crack against my face. My distressed on the inside downtown look. Dr . . . , Dr . . . , Dr . . . , Drink it up. Drawn up plans for a life worth living. Drop off the radar, and into the abyss of people we won’t miss. Do it right (as in correct). Put up a fight. Why do they print more than one copy of a self-help book? I’m listening to what the world is telling me, listening or oblivious, can’t be sure. Long walk on a short pier —always— my only real exercise. Come to me, and I’ll dream your dream for you: You find yourself walking along in an endless forrest. Lost, ok, a short dream, but lets have it. If I’m not mistaken (I say that a lot) I see that the right way to do things is often overlooked. A stoic stance to dull the pain. Toilers, toilers against the endless. Nothing really, Nothing at all really, no. Nothing at all, no things and nothingness, no kings please. No place to stand, but two legs to do it on. No kings in waiting, no kings please, no nothing. My smile for your fears. My handmade hell or high water just inside the brink, and all around the brink I think. No kings — nothing— no kings please.

Narrator

[I requested a volunteer from the audience to be the Narrator, Iris Rose came forward and read my prepared spiel]

Brendan, I have always wanted to narrate one or your performances. I am so glad that you picked me to do it. I have been to countless shows and I was always over looked. But now I am finally able to participate. I have so much to say and so little time. But what am I ? I don’t want to be a pawn in some cruel game. For now I will assume the best. One thing I have noticed as I am here doing this is it really isnt so great. The piece seemed pretty good sitting in the audience, but from here it just seems kinda trite and dull. Is this all there is? I guess the beauty of this job is being able to see the show from both sides. As the Ghost Chair rises and falls so do the hopes and dreams of the audience. Magic made so real. The ghost chair appears and confounds those that encounter it. It should exist. It should not be approached or scrutinized. Is the devil at work here? Float into existence like from a dream world. Terrified. The city walks alone and the ghost chair does not relent. It can not be explained by chemical reaction. [Thanks, ok, return to your seat please]

A brief history of violence according to clowns.

Don't Kill the Puppets

The puppets are coming to kill us
The puppets are coming its true
But if we kill the puppets
are we really killing me and you?

And if you are attacked by puppets
Remember where you live
you might be lost in the neverworld
With an ice pick in your head.