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THe Augmentation (Alex Leavens)
(original, maybe)

This piece was written by my best friend in college, Doug Barry.
Doug, Jack Helbig and I had a weekly radio comedy show then, and
this is one of the scripts from it.  Doug didn't write many scripts,
but when he did, it was always a mind-snapper.  Doug dropped out
in his junior year, and the last we heard, was missing at sea on
a fishing vessel.  So he's probably dead now...R.I.P.

{ed A Long piece, not for everybody}

The Argumenton, by Doug Barry


...And Succor climbed the mighty ladder of the dawn
Well lubed with thirty weight and axle grease
Though sliding perilously along each rung
Still cried with mouth and cloven tongue
'Prometheus, ye Gods of Olympic mein
Your laundry's done, your drawers are clean
Come see our new machines, you guys
Twenty cents wash and thirty cents dry'
And fell, a screaming sillhouette against the sky
There's a Succor born every minute...

[Crustaceon]:  Hark, O Gluetton!  Leave off your raving and come with us
to the grove of Dionysius.

[Gluetton]:  Uncouth fools!  Dottards!  Hecapede, and you, dolt Crustaceon!
Do you not see that I am at the peak of a new creation?!  An epic to rival
the works of Hesiod and even Homer!  'An Ode to a Pramnian Slut', I call it.
It came to me by chance the other day.  Oh, the Wisdom, the Meter!
	"She bends to fill with wine the cup..."

[Crustaceon]:  "...From the brazen urn between her thighs I sup."  You see,
Gluetton, I know your style--you wouldn't know true inspiration if it
barfed in your beer.  Come with us now to Eudemon;  there is a new
phenomenon arrived in town;  some call it a circus, some a new art fit
to rival poetry or sculpture.  A man named Thespus and his travelling
company...wearing masks, they perform the rites of Dionysius and other
works which I have heard called purely inspired.  They say that Solon
will be there from Athens to render his opinion of the status of this
new drama.

[Gluetton]:  Well, the flow of my creativity has been utterly destroyed
by your rude interruption, anyway, and it does sound interesting.  Do
you have any wine?

[Crustaceon]:  Would we have asked you along if not, you sot? (FX: cork)

[Gluetton]:  Ah, Crustaceon, a true friend as ever!  I will make this 
journey with you, wherever it leads.  (FX: drinking)

(FX: Loud music, trumpets)

[Pederastes]:  Hail, Crustaceon!  Welcome!  I see you finally convinced
Gluetton to give up his drunken rhyming, and rejoin the world of the
senses.  But who is this young morsel at your side?  Could it be fair
Hecapede?  Crustaceon, you old bivalve, you.  You've been robbing the
cradle again.  The last time I saw young Hecapede, he was still in
swaddling clothes.

[Crusatceon]:  Aye, but you pinched him even then, as I recall,
Pederastes!  Now take us in to the festivities and introduce us to
your guests.  We have travelled far to see the reknowned Thespus.

[Pederastes]:  Ah, so you have come to witness this new form they
call the drama?  Then you are in luck.  Thespus arrived this morning with
his entire company.  Even now they are preparing a performance of this
thing that they do.  Come and meet Solon the wise, here from Athens with
creaky knees, to judge the drama's merit as art.  Ho, Solon--new 
travellers arrived to see the show!  Come meet Crustaceon, prime roustabout
of Farta, his friend Gluetton, composer of Ribald verse and lascivious
epic, and their delectable companion Hecapede.

[Solon]:  You, Gluetton, I know already far too well.  You make a mockery
of the art you profess to create.  Since your "Elegy with the aid of a
ten-inch salami" made the rounds of the outer provinces, it is assumed
by the crass and vulgar among the populace that all poets have such low
wit, such vulgar sensabilities.  Now when I don my propeller beanie and
rush out into the marketplace to deliver my latest work, a song in praise
of good government with high dividends, or some such temperate theme, I
am greeted with hoots of mirth and glee as the drunkards and sotheads
cry out their preference for some ribald lyrics or obscene metaphor.  It
has discouraged me to such a degree that I am considering abandoning my
pen altogether and taking up some other aspect of public life.  I 
understand there's an archonship available...

[Crustaceon]:  Just and honorable Solon, I seek not to interrupt your
digression, but my friends and I have travelled far, not only to witness
the spectacle of Thespus' travelling show, but also to hear your considered
judgement upon the proceedings.  Surely you must have heard something of
it from other travellers, and have come to some preliminary opinion.

[Solon]:  Folly, good Crustaceon, naught but folly.  I prefer to reserve
my judgement until I have seen the spectacle performed, but if the truth
be known, I fear it bodes ill for the whole of Greek society.  This
portrayal of characters not one's own strikes me as the ultimate in
dishonesty.  To quote the reverend Buttarch, "If we praise and honor
this sport under these circumstances, it will not be long before we 
discover it in our soup."
          My consultation of the oracle on this matter was most cryptic.
When asked "Is Thespus' tragedy a form of art?", the priestess replied,
"No tickee, no washee", leaving me to ponder long, yea very long...

(FX: Trumpets)

[Pederastes]:  Hark, Solon, I hear the trumpets!  The performance is
about to begin!

(FX: Trumpets)


    The Argumenton, by Escalator

I pray the gods deliverance from these toils
My hands are shot, the water boils
Over these atriedan clothes I slave
I swear, 'twill drive me to my grave
And these dull dolts who swarm about
and in my ears do moan and shout
give me a gun, I'd shoot them all
and make a noise like Weedipus' fall
Oh, soap and suds all day my fate
and god knows what for lunch I ate
that makes my stomach rock and churn
like a godforsaken Attic urn


Lo the tenth year falls apace
'Ere we first looked upon your face
So pock marked, blemished
lacking grace
Could you have fallen from outer space?
But hark, get back to work, you jerk
A form approaches, or does it lurk?

(FX: Store doorbell)

'Tis Hymenlestra, virgin whore
and mother of a brood of four

[Hymenlestra]: Hi, kids!


Hi, Hymen, what's the score?
We've stuff to clean the clothes you wore
We've lemon fresh and bleach delight
Just what you need to get white

[Chorus member one]:  I'll make the change...

[Chorus member two]:  I'll fetch the tub...

[Chorus (all)]:  And Priapus here'll scrub, scrub, scrub!
Now show us the dainties that you've got
and we'll just throw them in this pot

[Hymenlestra]:  Oh dear, let's see, I've nothing much
just some old towels and socks and such
some whips and chains
and leather boots
from Cleon, I think
that nasty old coot
Oh yes, and here's a pair of pants
size forty seven, now who's are those?
I never know where I get all these clothes...

[Chorus]: Don't fret, my dear, just let 'em fall
Old Priapus here'll wash 'em all
Go out now carefully down this hall
and noon tomorrow, give a call
by then he's sure to have it done
Uh-oh, here come's another one          (FX: store doorbell)
It's Escalator, now we're sunk
let's shoot the poet who wrote this junk

[Escalator]:  Come doubletalk, come murk and mire
come Ninevah and daughter Tyre
First Argos and her quick dry clean
My collars lost, but here I've seen
by Priapus my buttons tossed
without a voice to say "What cost?"
Into a vat, a brazen urn
From which I see there's no return
What sinister pattern can there be
to this blatant effrontery?

[Priapus]:  (stage whisper) 
  This boisterous general little knows
  the method that our madness shows

[Chorus member one]:  And what a tangled web we weave

[Chorus member two]:  When we go fishing with a sieve

[Chorus (all)]:  Allow us this our little joke
us washermen some fun must poke
A pause that refreshes
A Hitchcock that Snells
A time out to listen to 'Tubular Bells'
So look now and see how upon our command
Escalator's four buttons hath Hymen in hand

[Escalator]:  Fair Hymenlestra, can this be?
My buttons in thy hand I see
and there beneath, my collars, too
Tell me, what's all this stuff mean to you?

[Hymenlestra]:  These things I've collected upon the advice
of the Chorus here, who I deem to be wise
Though diamonds in Athens are not to be found
In baubles and trinkets doth this place abound
From Cleon the rich have I gold watch and chain
and Priapus' company whene'er it rains
from Hippocrates, potions that ease all my pains
Bold Gluetton's good fun, I cannot complain
All the silver and gold that I've got from the rich
lies safe in my boudoir, and I'll never snitch
There's only one man for whom my joy turns to pall
and that's Solon of Athens, whene'er he calls
with his mouth ever flapping about protocol
his hands much too big and the rest much too...

[Solon]:  LIARS!  BLOODY LIARS!!  I'll teach you to slander my
name!  I'll give you hexamater!  I'll give you pentameter!!

(FX: Whacking sounds)

[Chorus]:  Oioioi owowowow...

(From the "Rest" of RHF)

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