HORN.PSD:
Look at me I’m an angry star field!
[HORN.PSD applies lens flare]
SWEATER.PSD:
Stop it!
HORN.PSD:
[pushing it too far] How are you going to lens flare a sweater?
[HORN.PSD applies lens flare]
SWEATER.PSD:
[enraged, stands up] I SAID STOP IT!
[There is a pause as ALL look at SWEATER.PSD. SWEATER.PSD realizes he’s overreacted. SWEATER.PSD sits back down in his seat.]
SWEATER.PSD:
[quietly] The sweater’s not angry kid, the wearer is. I don’t know. Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m not challenged. You ever feel that way Lava? I mean, all you get cast as is lava.
[HORN.PSD realizes he has shamed a hero of his and looks guilty.]
LAVA.PSD:
Not really. A lot of people wouldn’t be satisfied having career of just character work like that. But you know I’ve made a great living, and it’s kind of nice being known like that. Anytime anyone needs solid, serviceable lava portrayal, they use me. And let’s face it, stories are always going to need at least a little lava. That’s the real reason the first two Star Wars prequels were so terrible. They didn’t have lava until the third one.
FACE.PSD:
[surprised] You were in that one?
LAVA.PSD:
[laughs] No way. Stars were lining up to take that part, even though they’d normally never take a part that small. I heard even that water tentacle from The Abyss auditioned. You can’t compete with that kind of star power.
CROTCH.PSD:
Even though it’s for a charity, you guys think we will get anything for this?
LAVA.PSD:
Oh I doubt it. I’m just doing it to keep myself visible, out there working.
CROTCH.PSD:
Yeah I’m doing it for the visibility too.
FACE.PSD:
I don’t think you need any more visibility.
CROTCH.PSD:
Changing the subject, why is clown sweater guy angry? And what in the heck is he riding? I’m still trying to figure out the plot here.
FACE.PSD:
[to CROTCH.PSD] Not too bright are you Dirk Diggler? [to all] It’s clearly a Lynchian style analysis of the Bush administration and the transition to the Obama administration’s policies as told through metaphor. The angry clown sweater man is quite obviously the policies of the Bush administration, which were both angry and clowny. The orc being green clearly represents the different skin tone of Obama, ready to fight off the policies. But note how they wish to depict the orc holding the axe? No effective warrior would wield an axe in that manner. This is clearly a critique of Obama’s rhetoric and promises being sharp-edged, but ultimately useless and ineffective.
[there is a pause]
ALL:
[to FACE.PSD] What?
CROTCH.PSD:
Then what’s the beast that clown sweater guy is riding?
LAVA.PSD:
Oh that’s a Kittytrice. It’s often mistaken for a Pegapuss because of the horse hindquarters. But I’m not sure what mythology they are pulling from to put a unicorn horn on it. Usually it has a rhino horn topped with a big red clown nose and is wearing cute oversized yellow sunglasses. My guess is they are going for a grittier feel.
HORN.PSD:
[obviously dismayed] Oh that’s just great. You mean I’m playing something outside of an established continuity with a fan base who’s sure to complain? I swear I’m going to kill my agent.
CROTCH.PSD:
Tell me about it. Once I was in this Hentai image where the schoolgirl’s outfit was the wrong color and the tentacles weren’t nearly far enough inside the—
FACE.PSD:
We really don’t need to hear anymore.
CROTCH.PSD:
But I was wondering what the Kittytrice represents?
FACE.PSD:
Oh that’s easy, the American public, who were whipped into a frenzy by the Bush policies into being something they’re not. That’s probably why they made the Kittytrice violent instead of cute.
SWEATER.PSD:
Wait, so Obama is trying to kill both the Bush administrations policies
and
the American public? In what reality does that happen?
FACE.PSD:
Have you ever watched Fox News?
[OFF STAGE rim shot]
CROTCH.PSD:
Then…what’s the spear?
FACE.PSD:
[unsure suddenly] Katrina?
LAVA.PSD:
[confused] I would have thought the lava/volcano part was Katrina.
SWEATER.PSD:
And wouldn’t it make more sense for angry clown sweater guy to be the American public riding the Obama Kittytrice to kill the OrcBush with the spear of…what the hell is the spear anyways?
HORN.PSD:
That doesn’t make sense because Obama’s policies have turned out to not be radically different from the worst of Bush’s policies in terms of wiretapping or assassination of American civilians for example.
CROTCH.PSD:
So the spear is Obama killing the Bush policies with policies that aren’t that different from Bush’s?
FACE.PSD:
This is far deeper a work than I suspected.
HORN.PSD:
I’m not sure you can really apply a political filter to this. Maybe the orc is an orc, the beast is a mere means of transportation, and the angry clown sweater man is an unfortunately dressed person who hates orcs, all put together with the sole intent of generating competing theories as to what it all means?
LAVA.PSD:
What does that make the volcano and the lava?
CROTCH.PSD:
The elements that, as you mentioned, tip it over into awesome.
[MOUSE CURSOR enters from STAGE RIGHT]
MOUSE CURSOR:
All right everyone I have an announcement…
[ALL gather around MOUSE CURSOR]
MOUSE CURSOR:
I would like to thank you all so much for your time in showing up today. I regret to inform you that Mr. Zugale has decided to go in a different direction with the project. He will actually be painting using real world oils and canvas as opposed to creating the work electronically. You should all be very proud of your capabilities, and Mr. Zugale is happy to work with you on other projects in the future. I’m sorry things didn’t turn out like we expected, but we love your enthusiasm and thank you again for your time.
[MOUSE CURSOR EXITS, stage lights dim quickly from top to bottom]
HORN.PSD:
[uncertainly] Well surely someone will remake the painting in Photoshop?
[CURTAIN]
BEDTIME STORY
Bernadette Durbin
All right, which story do you want tonight?
“Tell me the story of the book you’re reading, Daddy!”
Old Man’s War
? But—
“Pleeeeeeease.”
Okay.
Old Man’s War
is the story of John Perry—
“John
Scalzi
, Daddy.”
What?
“It says right on the book.”
Um, okay. The story of John Scalzi, who signs up with an interplanetary fighting force. They only take people who are really old—
“Older than you?”
Older than me. But it doesn’t matter that they’re old, because they get given a new body that’s young again. And green.
“Like an orc!”
Like an…orc. Sure.
“With a great big axe!”
Um…
“Because orcs fight with axes, don’t they?”
Yes, orcs fight with axes. So they send John…Scalzi to various planets to fight to protect human colonists. Some of the planets are nice, but some are pretty nasty.
“Like Mount Doom.”
And when he’s there he has to fight against other people who want those planets to live on. So one day, John is on a planet that’s not so nice…
“Mount Doom!”
…like Mount Doom, all volcanic fields and erupting mountains. No fun at all. And suddenly, he’s attacked by—
“A unicorn pegasus kitten!”
…Is it a
zombie
unicorn pegasus kitten?
“Nooooooooooo!”
Just checking. He’s attacked by a unicorn pegasus kitten, all sharp horn and deadly claws, ridden by none other than—
“Wesley Crusher!”
You’ve been watching Next Generation again, haven’t you. Ridden by none other than the stalwart Wesley Crusher, spear in hand, wearing—
“A clown sweater!”
A
clown
sweater? Why?
“’Cause it’s
silly
.”
Yes. Of course. I should have guessed. So Wesley swoops down upon John, who yells out his war cry—
“The head of Scalzi demands blood!”
—at which cry many a former foe had quaked in terror. But not Wesley, not he, but he yelled in return—
“Can’t sleep; clowns will eat me!”
…You have the strangest…well. John Scalzi swung his axe at the unicorn pegasus kitten—
“Don’t hurt it, Daddy!”
—which dodged nimbly out of the way. Wesley Crusher fell to the ground. He lifted his spear as John hefted his axe. And then he shouted out—
“1, 2, 3, 4, I declare a dance war!”
Mighty Wesley shouted in reply—
“So you think you can dance?”
—and then the unicorn pegasus kitten brought a disco ball. Wesley got to his feet and struck the opening pose for the pasa doble. The dulcet strains of—
“The Chicken Dance!”
—rang out, as John smiled grimly. He danced the Chicken Dance. He danced the Y.M.C.A. He did the Mashed Potato and the Twist. Wesley countered with the dreaded Macarena and the Electric Slide. John nodded. ‘You compete well,’ he said, ‘but can you limbo?’
“So the unicorn pegasus kitten got a bar…”
Yes. And John started to dance underneath it. The unicorn pegasus kitten sneezed—
“Oh no!”
Oh yes… And the bar collapsed, falling on top of John Scalzi.
“Wesley was very sad.”
He asked, ‘Are you okay?’ and he lifted the bar off of John’s chest. ‘I’ve been better,’ he replied. ‘But I like dancing better than fighting.’ Then he shook hands with Wesley, and they agreed that they could share the planet in peace.
“Shiny!”
So how do we end the story?
“Rocks fall, everybody dies!”
Traditionally, stories end with ‘And they all lived happily ever after.’
“Rocks fall, everybody dies!”
Fair enough. And that is the story of
Old Man’s War
.
“Can I read it when I’m older?”
Of course you can. Now, what does the kitty say?
“Meow.”
What does the duck say?
“Quack quack.”
And what does the chicken say?
“Sizzle.”
That’s right.
“Good night, Daddy. I love you.”
I love you too, sweetheart. Good night.
THE MAKING OF THE UNICORN PEGASUS KITTEN ART: A TRANSCRIPT OF AN INTERVIEW WITH JOHN SCALZI
Q:
Thank you for taking the time out of your busy schedule,
Mr. Scalzi.
John Scalzi: Not at all. Happy to share the story of this magnificent work of art.
Q: It
is
magnificent, isn’t it?
Scalzi:
It really is. I think we can say without reservation that it is the best picture featuring an orc, an actor and a unicorn pegasus kitten, ever.
Q: So how did this all come about?
Scalzi: Well, early in the year I knew I wanted to do something special to help raise money for Lupus research, and after some thought, I had the idea which roughly conforms to the picture as you see it today. Artist Jeff Zugale had done some work for me before, so I called him up to see if he had time to take the commission. He did, and then after that I got hold of Wil and asked him to take part, and of course he was quite enthusiastic. Jeff and Wil both live in the Los Angeles area, so at that point the big logistical issue was getting both me and the unicorn pegasus kitten into Jeff’s studio for the posing.
Q: What was that again?
Scalzi: I said the real logistical issue was getting me and the unicorn pegasus kitten into the studio at the same time.
Q: So you’re saying this picture actually happened.
Scalzi: No, no, obviously not. I mean, it’s not as if Wil and the UPK and I were actually in a lava-strewn volcanic crevasse, preparing to do battle with each other. That’s just silly. That’s where Jeff and his potent imagination comes in. We are all in a studio, posing.
Q:
I think the thing I’m trying to wrap my brain around is that you appear to be saying unicorn pegasus kittens exist.
Scalzi: Of course they do.
Q: I don’t think their existence is common knowledge.
Scalzi: Well, they’re not native to the Americas, which I think may be the source of your confusion.
Q: Where
are
they native, out of curiosity?
Scalzi: The northeast part of the Irkutsk Oblast. Which, as you can probably tell by the use of the word “oblast,” is part of Russia.
Q:
…right.
Scalzi: There’s a small preserve of them just north of Kirensk. Just follow the river and you’ll see them on the west bank. If you hit Yakutsk, you’ve gone too far.
Q: It just seems like an unusual sort of animal, evolutionarily speaking. For one thing, a cat mating with a unicorn.
Scalzi: Or a pegasus. Right, because of the genetics incompatibilities.
Q: I was more thinking that neither unicorns or pegasuses exist, actually.
Scalzi:
Well, you know. The unicorn pegasus kitten project goes back to Soviet times. They were doing lots of mad scientist stuff back between the 30s and 50s. The legend has it that during the Second World War Joseph Stalin personally asked Trofim Lysenko to spearhead a hybridization project to develop adorable yet deadly animals to stalk and kill the invading Nazi armies all along the Eastern front. The unicorn pegasus kittens were a spectacular success; the zombie were-koalas, not so much.