Asphalt
Jungle Shorts III
Visual
Tour
Note: These
pictures were taken by cast member Jennifer Cornish during a run-through, and
not all actors were in costume.
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This show’s box office was KW BOOK STORE. People mill in the book store. They aren’t sure what to do, or what
will happen next.
This, of course, is just the cast and crew milling
about. Far right, Director/Heather
Gurd.
Bruce Wolff, Tracey Kenyon and Heather Gurd, watching the
Bickersons. They ask a lot of questions. I tell them to keep on their toes. Being the box office, allows me to set the
pace of the show…and, well, collect money. There is a ‘well known’ author
sitting behind a glass counter, a stack of his books, Lyle Becomes Himself,
with, a very scathing bio on the back.
We weren’t expecting anyone to read them. There’s also a big poster behind him,
announcing the book signing. A couple come into the store,
and browse, early on. On their way
out, he notices me and says, “Oh, this is that Asphalt Jungle thing.” Turns to his significant other. “Oh, we have to go. It’s really good.” This sets “The Bickersons’ into
arguing. When did you see the
show? You have another job interview,
you can’t do this…it’s probably crap anyway.”
They buy tickets and he’s
off to have his interview, saying he can just ‘catch up’. As he quickly exits, after she asks him who
he came to the show with last year,
just I ask for the audience’s attention, and he’s out the
door. “This year, we’re
going to do things differently.
I’d like you all to look on the back of your tickets. The two people with Stars on their tickets
will be leading the group. Gasp. One star is places on Mrs.
Bickerson’s ticket. I had her a
list and a banana. I had the audience
‘star’ a map. I inform the
audience to follow the banana. As
I’m doing that, a young man races into the store, heads straight for
‘the author’ and the show technically begins. Lend me a Morton: You’re pretty old, but I think you
have a few mentoring years left in you. Barnhart: I’m fifty-eight! Morton: Sixty-seven. I did my senior thesis on you, so I should
know.
Nicholas Cumming and Robin Bennett Later Morton: You’ll realize it when you read my
manuscript. I’m the child you
never had. Barnhart: You are the stalker I wish I didn’t
have. There’s something
wonderful about seeing it right there, in the books store, people almost
breathing on the actors. Funny, too,
when they exit, and just keep going down the street. Banana raised high, the
audience departs the book store and heads up King St. In about one and a half minutes, I have the
entire box office and mock author signing stuff put into a bin and shoved
under the counter. I thank the book
store clerk as I race to catch the next play. The audience is lead up a ramp
that leads to the second floor huge balcony of our city hall. They stop, noticing a man writhing on the
wheelchair ramp that leads down to the fountain area. A guy from the audience, black wool hat,
tentatively comes out of the crowd and goes up to the guy.
Douglas Morton and Bruce
Wolff STAN (Through his teeth) Don't touch me you imbecile! (Mickey jumps back.) MICKEY Whoa man you scared me! You want
me to call an ambulance? STAN I'm in the middle of a dance, do
you mind? MICKEY
Hey, man, I'm just trying to help! You look like
you're in serious pain, O.K.?
STAN I am pain. Now will you leave? Modern Dance by Josh
McIlvain. The audience howls. It’s a short piece, but very
funny. Opening night, we almost lost
this piece. The audience is then lead to
the upper balcony, inside the glass doors to a board room called, The Schmulz
Room – after a mayor. It’s
got a very long table with nice chairs around the table, and around the
perimeter of the room. A women and
young man enter from another door.
She’s flustered. He
should be here. She plugs in a laptop
and nervously looks at her watch – again. I only have ten minutes. In walks an older, refined looking
gentleman. He’s confused as to
why the young guy is there, whispering to ‘Julie’, “I
thought you were going to give me your answer.” Turns out both men have proposed to her,
and she has prepared a power point presentation to determine which guy to
marry. Funny funny piece.
Julie: Relative endowment, well that’s an
easy one. Harry has the bigger penis. Rob: Hey, wait a minute! Julie: I’m sorry, Rob, but facts are facts. Harry: Tough luck little man. Julie: Now normally this would not matter to
me. However, it is a very large
penis. On the other hand, Rob has a
tongue like a giraffe. (pause) So, I would have to call it a tie. Her solution, is to have them
both. Man_Woman_Man by L.H. Grant. The audience follows the banana
out of the 2nd floor of the city hall, and to the back
courtyard. Mr. Bickerson catches up to
the audience here, and they have yet another fight. This is a piece written by me, that weaves
in and out of the evening, called Honey, Meet the Bickersons.
Katharine Mills and Roger Sumner are The Bickersons. Robin Bennett, a usually great
looking man, transforms to crazy with the addition of a big white hoody,
tight around his face, with a huge number 3 on it. He is standing on a bench, and launches,
like zealot his is, into a rant, thankfully, interrupting the Bickersons.
Prophet:
(zealously with grand gesturing): 3! 3! 033313! The
man in a white coat (officer), with numbers where a name should be,
arrives. Brian was good enough to let
us replace the officer with the white coat guy.
Officer:
(to Prophet, sternly): 011? 1! This piece ends with a couple
finding each other in an odd way.
Talking in numbers. Some
nights, the audience joined in the taunting of the preacher. Two was written by J. Brian Long. Big fun.
People love it and every night, much later, people are mocking arguing
with those four numbers.
Bruce Wolff and Tanya Williams racing away from the
sprinklers. This particular night, while the couple in this place
were passionately reciting their ‘numbers’, the sprinklers turned
on. We move back into the city
hall, to a huge turned staircase, and a delivery boy yelling Julie? Julie Dwyer? He’s delivering a bagel, and
delivering horrible bread puns.
It’s a short piece, written by me. Julie hates the puns. He’s hooked on them. At the bottom of the staircase,
let’s see, the main floor of the city hall is a circle –
Rotunda. At the back of it, following
the curve, is a curved space about ten feet wide, with a cushy bench along
the wall where maybe forty people can sit.
This was the perfect setting for Not on my Watch, by David Schrag. A couple passes each other. BEEP.
They turn slowly, walk by each other again. BEEP.
Stop short. Turn slowly. BEEP.
Looking at their watches the entire time, now they look at each
other. “Wow.” “Yeah.” This futuristic piece combines
online lingo with the idea of where we are going. Very funny, but a bit scary for me. Their ‘connection’ is a
‘96’. As they talk, the 96
seems less and less likely.
Katharine Mills waiting for the
play to start. I wanted to show this
picture, because you can see the length of the curved bench. It was one of my favourite spaces. Hansen: I know it’s a little premature, but
have you got names picked out? Ilana: For what? Hansen: Duh, for babies. I’m leaning toward Jeremy and Lincoln
for boys, Sasha and Belinda for girls. Ilana: You’re winking right? Hansen: How is that a joke? Ilana: I take it you’re KidsPref two? Hansen: Obviously Ilana: Buddy, I’ve been KidsPref zero for
five years.
Turns out he was on very old
firmware, don’t you know that’s buggy, and when they refresh, they
are both embarrassed to be 72’s. The audience exits the City
Hall through the side doors. They
cross the street to a curved space with nice big stones to sit on, and a
garbage container. This was such a
visual piece, I posted all the pictures.
Tanya Williams & Jennifer Cornish in Treasure Hunt, by Dori Appel. On the top of the container, is
a fuchsia hat. Coming up the side
walk, from either side, two odd looking women. They see the hat. They see each other. They move quicker and quicker trying to be
the first to the hat without looking obvious.
They both reach the hat at the same time. Grab.
WOMAN
1: Just get your slimy hands
off— WOMAN
2: I'd like to call to your attention
to— WOMAN
1: The undeniable fact that— WOMAN
2: This particular item is— BOTH: MINE!
WOMAN
1 (with a dramatic change in tone)
Wait a minute, sister! WOMAN
2: You wait!
WOMAN 1: (muffled)
I was practically wearing it!
WOMAN 2: What are
you gonna do, call the cops?
They get into a wrestling match
with the hat, rolling around on the ground, neither letting go. One woman on another’s back, then on
the ground nose to nose. By the end,
Tanya has the hat in her teeth, and Jennifer has a death grip on it. A woman whose been watching the fight,
indignantly walks to the garbage and deposits a bag and leaves. Having to know what’s in the bag,
there is a comical bit where the woman have to get to the bag, without
letting go of the hat. When they
finally rip the bag apart, another hat falls out, exactly the same hat. One lets go, the other grabs. They are both holding a hat. They look at their hat, then the
other’s, then toss both hats in the garbage and walk away. Great fun.
Treasure Hunt by Dori Appel. The Bickersons get into it yet
again, arguing about a girl Simon slept with.
There is a couple in the audience, he speaks no English, she speak
some, and decides to translate the argument.
This is a really fun bit.
Roger Sumner and Katharine Mills as the Bickersons. Bruce Wolff and Tracey
Kenyon as Anthony and Marie. ANNIE: No.
Not that slutty looking woman that worked at the front desk. MARIA:
L'asino sembra colpevole! (The ass looks guilty.) ANTHONY:
Che cosa ha detto Annie? (What did Annie say?) MARIA: Annie ha detto, no. Non quella segretaria “slutty” che lavorava
in ufficio? (Annie said, No. Not
that slutty looking woman that worked at the front desk.) Simon looks a little more apologetic. ANNIE: The one
with the enormous boobs that looked like they were trying to escape from her
ridiculously low cut spandex top with the words ‘naughty girl’
written in rhinestones? MARIA: Ah quella
con le “boobs” enorme che sembravano esplodere dalla camicetta
tagliata molto bassa. (The one with the enormous boobs that
looked like they were trying to escape from her ridiculously low cut spandex
top with the words ‘naughty girl’ written in rhinestones?) SIMON: (dreamily) Yeah. (beat – sobers) Yeah. ANTHONY: (smacking
Marie-Jeanne on the bottom) Sono un uomo
a cui piace molto il posteriore delle donne. (I’m an ass man.) MARIA.
(she punches him in the arm) Sei un asino! (You are an ass!) Well,
Annie walks away mad, and thrusts the banana into Simons’ hands. The audience carries on a big, and the
argument ensues. She forgive, then
he’s so excited about the truth, he confesses he didn’t go on the
job interview. Bad move. Annie can handle him having sex with
another woman, but never a lie. She leaves. He follows, thrusting the banana in the
unsuspecting Italian woman’s hands.
She carries on. The audience
passes them across the street sitting on a bench discussing. A man leans over the balcony of the second
floor of the parking garage. Lights a
cigarette. HAG Once upon a time, a dapper,
elegant, charming, well-dressed, young man about town stopped at an small
cart outside of a fancy theatre to buy a Venetian Ice for a barefoot, stinky,
sweaty, street urchin. . . . (Directly
to OLD SAINT) Thank you. OLD
SAINT You are welcome. HAG (Resuming her story.) Then he joined his
friends and went on his way. . . . For
that one, apparently unguarded, act I will always love him. That’s
the entire play. Revisited written by
Mary Alice Mark. It’s so lovely. Still
no pictures of this. Sigh. The audience turns around. There, in a parking lot, is a woman,
skulking by a wall wearing dark glasses, black Matrix coat, black gloves
smoking a cigarette with a holder. She
is holding a sports bag. A guy comes
over the chain link fence and lands with a thud. He’s looking for something. She drops the bag loudly. He takes an absurd defensive pose. Ah.
It’s his boss.
Jennifer Cornish and Kristopher Bowman in The
Assignment. SHE: The apology
is meaningless, Rameses. The promise, however, is duly noted. (beat) Remove your clothing. HE: What? SHE: What was
there in my request that you didn’t understand? HE: Uh, nothing.
Nothing at all. It was perfectly clear - I was just making sure there was
nothing wrong with my hearing.
I’ve had this wax build-up - SHE: - your
hearing is fine. HE: (removing his clothing) The request was
unusual. If I hadn’t heard you correctly, then my stripping naked here,
in a modest urban cemetery, before your unflinching female gaze, would have
been regarded by the organization as uno
error molto grandissimo.
Why does Kris always end up nearly naked in these shows?
HE: SHE: A
crooked cop. He likes women. Expensive ones. Befriend him and get us copies
of the books he doesn’t show our auditors.
And…gets to kiss a lot of women? He is also informed the
‘target’ is guy.
I’ve done that before, he lets her know. This is a very funny spy spoof written by
Julian Olf. Last night, a police
cruiser drove slowly by, looked like he was deciding whether or not the
situation in the parking lot needed some attention. I was ready to cut him off, as it was
moments away from Kris disrobing to his underwear. Always exciting. The audience has to walk by the
Bickersons. This is their last
argument. She’s done. She leaves.
He turns to the audience, “It was only one lie.” The next block is almost painful to
walk. Quiet. People are pissed off at him. I had to get him to add something to shift
the mood. I gave him the block, then
he turns around, banana raised high.
“I’ll get her back.
I know I will. I’m not
putting this banana down until I do.”
Whew. The mood shifts. From the bushes across the
street we hear some wacky girl yelling.
“Gay? Crazy? Or already involved? She bolts across the tree, demanding to
know from Simon Bickerson…which is it?
“Already
involved.” He says, holding high
the banana. Again she demands, from
the ‘spy’ who has just emerged from the back of the parking
garage. “Gay. Definitely gay.” The audience howls. He continues on. But
she meets Alan, and converses with him. Alan: You don’t look crazy to me. He
says this, as she’s swinging from a small tree. Jill: “I’m standing here on a street
corner on the coldest day of the year, asking random passing men if
they’re gay, crazy or already involved.
Does that sound like rational behavior to you? In Alan, she finds a
possibility, as he’s out looking for Ms. Right. They’re off to Starbucks for coffee,
holding hands and skipping like children.
Crazy was written by David Lewson. The audience proceeds to the
busiest intersection downtown. King
and Queen Sts. There is a guy, sitting
on a bench reading. He gets up and
crosses the street to the Walper Hotel.
He forgets his bongos underneath the bench. The audience is desperately looking for a
play. Finally, Jennifer comes up the
street and sits on the bench.
It’s a delightful time
watching her watch the city. She looks
under the bench and sees the bongos.
She straightens up. She can’t
resist and she taps the bongo. Sits up
abruptly. Maybe another minute before
she snatches them and puts them on the bench beside her. A minute later, another tentative tap. Finally, she starts playing them….a
bit at first, then with a lot of gusto. Cars honk.
People stop. It’s a
beautiful moment and is stretched into five wonderful minutes. In the midst of her impromptu concert, Scene V was written by Shirley
Wilson. This is the most magical
corner. Everything happens here. One night, a guy wearing these weird c-shaped
things on his shoes that allowed him to bound/hop down the sidewalk, sometimes
going three feet into the air. What a
back drop. Same night, a police
cruiser drives by. Jennifer quickly
puts down the bongos and tries to look innocent. Resumes after he leaves. Drunks inquiring, street people watching,
one racing after her one night to present her with a condom. It’s really a wonderful piece and was
in the most perfect location. Still
looking for pictures with her actually playing the bongos madly. The audience is then ushered
into the Walper Terrace. Oldest hotel
in the City. There is a bar in the
basement. They are told they can use
the washroom and order drinks, but not at the same time. Fifteen minute intermission comes late in the
show, but who are we to aim for anything approaching normal. They audience is ushered to a back room
that we have to ourselves. When the time is right, I flash
the lights. There are cement benches
built into the walls.
Enter, Kris, dressed as a grown
up version of Alfalfa from Our Gang. I
can’t believe such a good looking guy can look so absolutely
unappealing. He can. He shoves his bottom toward
Douglas Morton & Kristopher Bowman We sit through two full minutes
of Kris inching
Tanya Williams, Douglas Morton and Kristopher Bowman. She’s jiggling the book
with her hand rubbing, and
Tanya Williams and Kristopher Bowman He scoops her up and carries
her out of the bar, walking as if he’s stepping over one-foot
hurtles. So funny. Bench Play was written by Josh McIlvain. Lights on a man drinking a beer
at one of those high tables you find in bars.
Hi. Hi. I’m Angie. Tom.
Are you a regular here?
It’s starts out usual enough, but quickly gets a bit wacky.
Arlene Thomas and Andrew Frey in Walking Distance. Angie: I have slept with women, though. Two.
Not at the same time. Tom: How was it? Angie: Okay.
Pretty good in fact. But there
was only one thing I just couldn’t get use to. Tom: The breasts. Angie: How did you know? She wants a one-night
stand. He thinks they might have more
than that and declines her upfront offer.
Until she explains their situation.
Arlene Thomas and Andrew Frey in Walking Distance. Angie: But maybe we just have to go for it, right
here and now, and acknowledge for once that we’re human beings. No, not that we’re horny, rutting,
hormonal animals. And maybe if we
accept that and acknowledge that, then we’ll be ready for whatever
comes afterward. Whatever that might
be. That’s what I think. So what do you say? Tom: Okay. Walking Distance is a really
piece written by David Lewison. In the
run-through, Arlene, a little over-zealous, left this after placing the glass
down a little hard on the table.
Lights on a guy sitting at
another high table. A woman
enters. His wife. His wife who’s got, as he puts it, a
Canadian fetish and has moved to He’s trying to convince
her to come back home. She’s not
biting. No pun intended.
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RETURN TO ASPHALT JUNGLE SHORTS III
Flush Ink Productions gratefully acknowledges
the financial support of the Region of Waterloo ARTS FUND for
Asphalt Jungle Shorts III.
And the continuing support from The City of Kitchener
