Why Reading Things is Funnier Than Memorizing Things
or
Dammit, I'm Taking the Week Off
by Dan Brooks

copyright © 1998


"WHY READING THINGS IS FUNNIER THAN MEMORIZING THINGS" OR "DAMMIT, I'M TAKING THE WEEK OFF" IS COPYRIGHTED MATERIAL AND MAY NOT BE DOWNLOADED, TRANSMITTED, PRINTED OR PERFORMED WITHOUT THE EXPRESS PERMISSION OF THE AUTHOR
Dan Brooks
3/6/98

"Why Reading Things is Funnier Than Memorizing Things"
or
"Dammit, I'm Taking the Week Off"

[Lights down. Lights up.]
[Dan, seated at table stage right. He has a stack of papers, a coffee mug from which he sips occasionally, and a small service bell. He reads in a nearly monotone, emotionless voice, a la early Garrison Keillor.]
     Hello, and welcome to another installment of Prarie Evening Journal on National Public Radio. I'm Lawrence J. Westerson, and tonight I'll be reading selections from my book, "Rustic Deer Track Artichoke Quilts." [Ring bell. Look patiently at bell until sound fades completely, by which time look has evolved into nervous anticipation.] Yes. So. Let's begin.
     Chapter One. The town of Lunging Springs, Minnesota was a peaceful place, and I grew up in a peaceful house on a peaceful street in that peaceful town. When I was eight I got my first Etch-a-Sketch, and I spent the entire day drawing on it. It drew very straight horizontal lines. It also drew very straight vertical lines. I never tried to draw a diagonal line; I was Lutheran. Anyway, at the end of one lazy summer Sunday afternoon, I put down my Etch-a-Sketch and I prayed silently for something -_ anything _ interesting to happen in our little town. "Cut out that damn racket!" my father said. Quiet was an important thing to the people of Lunging Springs.
He struck me many times about the head and shoulders with an old piece of treated leather from the saddle of our old horse, Old Blue. He was right to do so. I lost a lot of blood, and in that way my childhood days passed quickly. [Ring bell.]
     Chapter Two. Every Sunday at four thirty the entire family would gather around the old Philco radio to listen to Phil Johnston's Variety Mystery Romance Hour. We never really heard any sound come out of the Philco; we just gathered around and looked at it. My father always refused to turn it on. He said that if we listened hard enough we could hear the Variety Mystery Romance Hour zipping through the air in the form of radio rays, and there was no need to waste electricity by turning it on. He said that if anybody reached out a hand to turn on the radio they'd pull back a bloody stump. By that time he was hitting the bottle pretty hard, and Sunday was a long day at my house. [Ring bell.]
     Chapter Three. Everyone in Lunging Springs had a nickname. The other kids called me Swifty, because of I was fast. They called the school janitor Lefty, because he was left handed. They called my brother Fishlips, Buttface, Fatass, Bird-legs, Loser, Limp Log, Trouser Snipe, Piss Ant, Ant Piss, Bat Nose, Ringo, Monkey Slurper and Testicle Breath, because he was deaf. [Ring bell.]
     Chapter Four. Remember that bitch Julie Wittaker from high school? I heard she liked it nasty from all sides, you know what I'm saying? She could suck a walnut through a coffee stirrer from fifty yards. Boy, I'd like a little of that right now. Unh. You like this, bitch? Yeah, don't make me get loose.
[Ring.]
     Chapter Five. Eight cups ground beef, browned. 3 cups chopped onion. 1/2 cup brown sugar. 1 clove garlic, diced. Bake at 350 degrees for thirty minutes. That was my mother's recipe for meatloaf, but there was something in it besides those ingredients, It was something that made it taste all the better; something special that every mother puts in her meatloaf, and something that only a woman who has spent thirty years in loyal service to her husband and children can offer. That something was bitter, bitter regret. If you're not married, you can substitute cillantro. [Ring bell.]
[Get up from table and produce letter from back pocket.]
I got this in the mail today.
[Stand center stage and read, in classic "reading postcard from grandma to parents" voice.]
To: No Shame Theatre
Theatre B, UI Theatre Building
Riverside Drive, Iowa City, Iowa
From: Dan Brooks
Dear No Shame,
     Hello! Greetings from sunny Guadalajara. How are you? I am fine. The weather here is just great and fode? _ [look up from letter, normal voice] I think that's supposed to be "food" [back to letter] _ is delicious. How are things in Iowa City? Cold enough for you? How's your mother doing? Wait, I'll just roll over and ask her. Ha ha. Just kidding. I was pretending that I had sex with your mother. But I didn't. Get it? [Point to letter. Normal voice.] He drew a little smiley face. [Back to letter.]
     Anyway, I figured I'd go on spring break a week early this year, so I pounded out this dumb radio satire instead of going to my remedial human sexuality class. Then, instead of going to the show myself, I sent this empty, soulless husk of a man with no chin to read it for me. This way I get to spend the week drinking Mexican beer and not thinking about anything. I bet the piece wasn't very funny, was it? Have any of you read the stupid Jane Smiley book where all the chapters are recipes? Neither have I.
     Well, I've got to go; some angry hotel staffer is yelling at me about my bar tab. The people here are so great. When I left Iowa City the only Spanish words I knew were "pi¤ata" and "fromage," but now I know such commonly used phrases as "cabron" and "hijo de puta." As near as I can tell, they both mean "thank you." Anyway, have fun in your cold theater in the middle of your desolate, blasted prairie wasteland. [Point at letter] Another smiley face. [Back to letter.] I'll see you when No Shame starts up again in three weeks. Maybe.
                           Sincerely,
                                Dan Brooks

[Blackout.]

"Why Reading Things is Funnier Than Memorizing Things" or "Dammit, I'm Taking the Week Off" debuted March 6, 1998, performed by Dan Brooks.

Performed again at the Best of No Shame on May 1, 1998

Performed at New York No Shame on January 24, 2003.


[Back to Library] Home