Performance on April 8, 2023 at Pao Arts Center (Boston, MA)
Videography: Kat Waterman, @katwatermanofficial
Script:
Since I’m performing between a comedian and a magician, I’ll take this opportunity to explore the relationship between comedy and magic.
Imagine.
I see a hot dog, a lone hot dog without a bun, suspended in midair somewhere deep in outer space (or, should I say, inner space).
A carpet cruises into the scene, stopping just below the dog (aka Frank).
Tired from all the suspension, Frank plops down on the carpet. The sides of the rug curl up around him. His new bed carries the scent of lovers whose first names end in ‘in.’ As he slowly drifts asleep, the magic carpet takes flight.
Out of nothingness into the brilliant blue sky, the shag wastes no time, heading straight for the Arabian Desert, landing on the sand in style (James Brown style).
In the scorching desert sun, the hardest-working man in show business, a sweaty sex machine, pulls a giant pickle from his pocket and karate chops it into slices, laying them like classic Vlasic records over a sizzling Frank.
As the Godfather of Soul grooves out of sight, the Godmother of Rock ‘n’ Roll rides in on horseback. Reaching into her bra, she produces several hundred thousand packets of ketchup and, with a single, effortless, squeeze, makes a murderous mess.
While she exits stage left and stage right, Osama bin Laden jumps off a passing jetliner, his fists full of chopped onions, a burning tower in each eye. He hurls the pungent pieces into the mounds of ketchup before slowly drawing from his turban six jumbo olives for what is turning out to be quite the extravagant weiner.
I’ll pause here to give you a chance to add other condiments to the mix.
Now that our hot dog is ready for the American market, we’re in the sky again. This time, it’s westward over the Mediterranean, across the Atlantic, towards this very city.
Hot dogs here! Get your hot dogs here!
Good old Fenway Park. Hot dogs here! Guess who’s on the mound for the Sox tonight and guess what he’s holding? It’s a 3-2 count. Dracula winds up and lets it fly. Frankenstein swings. Hot dog everywhere! Mount Fenway erupts. The sound of 30,000 barking dogs fills the stadium. An astonished announcer leaps from the press box into a crowd of hysterical canines 50 feet below. His final words: “Oh, ho, ho, it’s magic!” You know. Never believe it’s not so.
