An Open Apology From Beetlejuice The Musical to Anyone Else Out There It May Have Inadvertently Driven Sex-Insane
Good evening. My name’s Beetlejuice The Musical, and I’m here tonight to apologize to anyone out there I may have inadvertently driven sex-insane.
If you’ve been to one of my shows, and found yourself experiencing an almost insatiable urge to inefficiently pat the top-part of a partially exposed boob or perform over-the-slacks hand-felacio on the penis-endowed individual sitting next to you, I’m sorry.
Please don’t blame yourself. I have that effect on people. I’m ridiculously sexy, for a musical. Before I was Beetlejuice The Musical, I performed under the name Trainspotting The DVD. It was one of my first gigs. I did a couple shows a month, for 5 or 6 months, in the tiniest little living room in Boulder, and every show I did ended with the only 2 people in the room rolling around naked on top of each other before I had a chance to perform the incredibly challenging digging-heroin-out-of-a-Scottish-toilet scene, which I’d worked really hard on, thank you very much.
So I’m aware. My art makes people horny. Again, I apologize.
That being said, I’m not performing at recently divorced poet’s apartments or theme restaurants anymore. I’m booking legitimate theaters these days, goddamn it. You’re not sitting at Chili’s. This isn’t the 3rd District. Act accordingly.
One minute, I’m up there singing my face off about what it’s like to be dead, and how I’m pretty sure me and Winona Ryder are going to be friends, and the next thing I know I’m not hitting the high F note like I should be hitting it, because I’ve swallowed a cloud of second-hand/bacon-wasabi flavored vape juice, and I can’t hit my stage mark because, in a space ordinarily dedicated to darkness, flash photography abounds.
Not cool. It’s called the Handbook For The Recently Deceased, not The Handjob-book For The Recently Re-Elected. Please refrain from internet-worthy displays of public affection while watching me perform in this theater tonight. Go down on each other in the parking lot, like civilized people have been doing since the invention of the horse-drawn carriage.
I’ll be honest here, when this whole dick-honking thing blew up, I was hoping I could parlay the new attention into The Next Big Step in my career. Mr. Mom: The Musical, maybe. Or, what about Heat?
I’ve always wanted to play Heat in Heat: The Musical. I’d be great in that. Already got 80% of the goddamn song’s written.
The opening number’s called “Ponytail”. It’s a little thing that the Val Kilmer character sings to his hair. We follow this up with a tune sung by the Ashley Judd character titled “This Guy and His Fucking Hair”, secondly titled “Why The Hell Isn’t He Singing About Me?”.
Full disclosure, in this one I find myself relating more to the Ashley Judd character than anyone else.
Also: She was great in Bug.
Bug: The Musical. I’d do that.
Hell, in this economy I’d settle for Bug The DVD.
I’d do a little bit of Bug for you now, but I can already smell the bacon-wasabi sliding out of your pockets. Let’s just save Bug for the parking lot, later.
Aphids, baby!
B.Y.O.G(enitals)
Goodnight.
written for the 10/17/23 Fbomb, Mercury Cafe, Denver CO
Multiverse Johnson 