I once worked for an organization where I wrote, created and performed puppet shows on conflict resolution in various public parks. It was a ton of work but quite fun.
I ended up creating all sorts of puppets out of oven mitts. They work very well if you twist them slightly, and use the thumbs as a mouth. I gave them interesting eyes by attaching all sorts of gawdy earrings I found at thrift stores, and glued on other crazy things to their oven mitt bodies.
One of the more entertaining characters was Shakespeare the Dog. He had a floppy lid for a hat and when he spoke in his Shakespearean manner, his hat would flop back and forth sending kids into a giggling fit.
I would set up the stage in the middle of a grassy park and kids would come running from all directions. They’d offer to help and I often accepted this little gift.
The unpredictable part of the job was the weather. Rain or shine, I’d be out there hidden behind a curtain with oven mitts on my hands, speaking in funny voices.
After doing the show a couple dozen times, I started to pick up on where the laughs would happen. At that point I could easily manipulate the audience by ‘milking it for all it was worth’1
On one occasion, I set up the show and everything was ready to go. I instructed the kids to sit and watch and listen and focus (the usual teacherly speech). Then I proceeded to entertain as usual.
It was a cloudy day and at about the half way point, it started to drizzle a little.
No problem, I thought. The kids are still enjoying it and laughing, so I may as well continue.
So I did. I continued my usual routines. Shakespeare’s hat flopped back and forth, and the laughs came rolling in at the usual spots.
While the laughs rolled in, so did the clouds, then a drizzle of rain.
No problem, I thought. The kids are still enjoying it and laughing, so I may as well continue.
As I was diving deeply into the second half of this intense comedy, the rain became heavier.
There I was, squatting in the middle of a park behind a curtain in a downpour wearing oven mitts on my hands with a flip and a flop of a hat on a sock (it was an oven mitt but ‘sock’ had a better rhyme).
I’ll admit, as the rain intensified, the laughs were fewer but still present.
No problem, I thought. The kids are still enjoying it and laughing, so I may as well continue.
So I did. I was not far from the end and soaked by this point, not having any fun at all. I heard no one laughing at this point.
No problem, I thought.
The kids are probably still enjoying it,
so I may as well continue.
And I did. I was about three minutes from the end and I hadn’t heard a laugh for a little while so I paused for a moment. I brought my character down slowly, and my head slowly upward, peeking ever so slightly over the curtain bar.
There was not a single soul in the entire park!
They had all ran away!
I started laughing.
And as I chuckled at how ridiculous I must’ve looked squatting behind a curtain in a torrential downpour, wearing oven mitts on my hands, Shakespeare the Dog also laughed alongside me as his little hat flopped back and forth.
And I thought to myself… even without an audience, sometimes you just have to keep on going.
With Gratitude,
In other words, going to the extreme for the laugh, just for the sake of creating more joy. I realize this might be an expression used in theatre when an actor pushes for the laugh.
Loved this story. Keep them coming. Reminds me of teaching art in a park for Calgary community centre.