Bullets Over Broadway Part II

ACT THE SECOND

(The Free Press cautiously enter the darkness of the bar called The Weathervane. They walk through the long, narrow bar. Hanging from the walls are the taxodermied bodies of the cities smallest and most eccentric looking people. They hang as a warning to outsiders: You are being Watched. Furthermore, they serve as a reminder that Brattleboro doesn’t tolerate small people. Small people are for hanging and stuffing.)


Clearly an ancient casualty of Brattleboro.


A small lady who was shamed before she was stuffed and hung.

(TFP slow as they reach the stage that is to support the evening’s rocking. The stage is in the usual state of disarrayLying – sleeping – on the stage is a large black and white dog. He seems non-plussed by the five scruffy men studying his slumber.)


Pixus, Jazz Legend and Keeper of Brattleboro.

J.D.: That’s a new one.

Mick: That IS a new one.

Alex: Do you think he knows Neverland?

(The bartender notes the interest in the dog.)

Bartender: His name is Pixus.

Len: Pixus?

Bartender: Pixus.

Alex: Pixus, do you want to sit in on Neverland?

(Pixus opens one eye to survey the deadbeats.)

Len: It’s in the key of G.

(Pixus opens his other eye).

Jesse: It’s a pretty simple four chord progression.

Pixus: Dude, it’s irrelevant.

(Pixus closes his eyes.)

Mick: Uhhh…

Bartender: Oh, sorry guys. He’s a blues man.

(Curtain)