Happy Friday, Internet.
Besides being the first day of a terrifying month-long national shopping spree, and the day that supermarkets across America are forced to find a way to sell various kinds of turkey-shaped overstock, today is ALSO the first day of the last regular weekend of Too Much Light Makes the Baby Go Blind at the ol’ Neo-Futurarium.
What does this mean for you? Seven piping-hot new plays, which is the last batch of new work you’ll see from us this year.
On Tuesday night we had a pre-Thanksgiving feast of material to choose from, and, as always, there was more great work we wanted to stuff into the show than we could fit. In the spirit of the season and in honor of the cranberry sauce sandwiches you’ll be eating for the next week, we share with you this delicious leftover play by Phil Ridarelli, which unfortunately could not be added to the menu this weekend.
Phil is a Demon Who Will Drink Your Blood
© Phil Ridarelli 2013
(Trevor and Phil stand center.)
TD: So, you ready for this 25th anniversary show at the comic book store?
PR: You mean the place where we started performing Too Much Light? Yes. Yes, I am.
TD: How did the rehearsal go?
PR: It was great. But the thing that struck me the most when I walked into rehearsal was how fucking old some of the other Neo-Futurists look.
TD: Yeah, I was going to say the same thing. You, on the other hand, you don’t look any different than when you first started performing this show. Why is that?
PR: That’s because I bathe in the blood of all the other younger Neo-Futurists who have joined the company.
TD: What’s that?
PR: Yeah, I bathe in the blood of younger Neo-Futurists. (Phil begins sharpening an axe he had hidden behind his back.) Not many people know this, but when we hold auditions, we normally cast a few extra people who we consider “expendable.” We keep them in the rat room.
TD: That’s not true. Is that true?
(Before Trevor can get an answer, Phil has begun hacking at Trevor’s neck with the axe. Once Trevor falls to the ground, Phil begins rolling in the puddle of blood collecting on the stage.)
LM: No, Phil! No! Bad Phil. Stop it right now!
(Phil hisses and blinks revealing reptilian eyes.)
KC: You guys! He’s at it again!
(The others enter with torches, pitchforks, etc. Malic is carrying a crossbow. Kirsten is loading silver bullets into a Walther P38.)
DKH: Dammit, Phil! I am not cleaning this up after the show!
(The ensemble rushes at Phil. Wings sprout from his back. He flies above the audience.)
PR: Rachel, give me a spot!
RS: (from the booth) Sorry, Phil, the light in the vom isn’t working.
PR: (in his best “demon” voice) Curse you, woman! (Phil spits fire at the tech booth, setting it ablaze.)
KR: Ok, that is enough! You come down here this instant, god dammit!
PR: I laugh at the mention of your measly god! (Phil tries, unsuccessfully to wipe the “This point symbolizes The God” writing from the ceiling.)
LM: Dammit, Phil! I need that for my play!
(Having now loaded the crossbow, Malic shoots an arrow at Phil. It enters his right eye and protrudes through the back of his head.)
PR: AAAAgggghhhh!!! (He falls into the center aisle. There is silence.) Malic… Malic… please come here. (Malic slowly approaches.) You have saved me. You have released me from this demonic possession. Come closer… (he does)… Closer…
(Once Malic is within reach, Phil springs to life and begins gnawing on Malic’s torso. Malic screams in agony.)
PR: Ha ha! I totally fooled you! I was fine the whole time!
(Kirsten shoots Phil with silver bullets. He screams and flies toward the house left window near the corner of the room.)
PR: (hovering above the ground) I shall let you live to fight another day, but you are only delaying the inevitable! The Dark Lord of NeoFuturism shall not be defeated!
LM: Does he mean Greg?
PR: No, you fools! Me. I am eternal! I am invincible! I am immortal! (Phil opens the window to make his escape, only he has forgotten that the window has been bricked up. He crashes into it and is knocked unconscious. He lays harmlessly behind the audience.)
KC: I had heard about him doing that, but I had never actually seen it happen.
(Then there is forty-five minute fade to black.)
(Fun Fact: Our weekly prop budget is $30.)
Not accounting for the hospital bills that would result from a Neo-Futurist performance of this play, the props [crossbow, pitchforks, lighter fluid, vintage axe, a round of silver bullets, a Walter P38, plus expedited shipping from Ebay] combined with a conservative estimate that at least two-thirds of the audience would demand refunds on the price of admission, the total cost of performing this play would be roughly $1,987.18.)
Phil will be part of our upcoming “Best of 2013” shows in the first two weekends in December, but beyond that, this weekend is one of your last chances to see his big-dreaming brilliance in Too Much Light for a while. Don’t miss it!