Those silent movies were really something, weren’t they?
Yesterday, I attended a six-hour silent-film marathon. The films were modern, but the theater’s sound system was broken. The theater has a no-refund policy, so I stuck around.
Redpencil, owner of the Third-Floor Pub, is always on the lookout for exciting ways to entertain his customers. He recently read that some raunchy bars elsewhere in the world have had considerable success with wet t-shirt contests. He decided to try it out in his bar.
His first, and probably his last, experiment with a wet t-shirt contest occurred last night. Redpencil had no problem finding women who would agree to participate. However, the contest got off to a slow start.
Moldybread the Mime
Moldybread, who is infamous for his disastrous weather balloon experiment, has been studying the art of mime through a free online course that he found on the Web. His studies almost ended in tragedy when, while a rehearsing a performance piece, he became trapped in his imaginary box and couldn’t get out.
Moldybread was stuck in the box for more than a day. Fortunately, on the day after first becoming trapped, his wife wasn’t sleeping with anyone else that night so she came home. She found Moldybread, led him by the hand out of the imaginary box through the imaginary door that Moldybread was unable to imagine, gave him some water to hydrate him, and had sex with him because, like I said, she wasn’t sleeping with anyone else that night.
Cherrytart, the closest thing Shalampax has had to a celebrity since our celeb-wannabe, Openfly, flew the coop, attempted to launch her singing career at a concert last night.
The room, the largest in Shalampax, was packed with more than 300 people. The record attendance can be attributed to the fact that the concert promoters promised—and delivered—plentiful posh food and drink, along with a payment of $500 each to everyone who attended.
The critics were uncharacteristically unanimous. As if with a single voice, they all exuberantly proclaimed that Cherrytart should, in the interest of public safety, never sing again.
Hey peeps, I have news from Shalampax’s performing arts scene, such as it is, which is not very much at all.
Word is that Shabbycardigan is getting ready to start rehearsals on a production of Shakespeare’s Hamlet. There’s no news yet on when, if ever, she expects it to open or begin previews.
To say the least, this is a questionable undertaking. The attention span of most Shalampaxians is not adequate to carry them through to the end of a four-word monosyllabic sentence. (This partially explains why almost no Shalampaxians read Shalampax Speaks.)
The world premier of Sausagewithonions’ latest film, A Day in the Life of a Housefly, will take place at 8:30 tonight in the second-floor cafeteria. There will be no charge to attend the premier.
I was honored with an advance screening so I could write the following review.
This epic film opens with a housefly pupae, which Sausagewithonions placed under an upturned glass jar, transforming into an adult housefly.
