("YAWN APPLES" is a teeny-tiny little tale about imagining what could be within the empty hollow of a yawn. The idea came to me during rehearsal the other day.
I’m currently in a play by Gertrude Stein called “A Play Called Not and Now". It’s probably the strangest theatrical production that I’ve ever been involved in. A lot of yammering like madmen. A lot of jumping up and down. It’s the most beautiful anarchy that I’ve ever been involved in. We would get arrested if we mounted the show on the streets and performed it as buskers. That's how great it is.
I hope you enjoy the following craziness.
After having watched “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest for the tenth time, he realized that insanity was what inspired him the most.
“Just drop it off and don’t say anything. He won’t give late charges if you don’t say anything,” she shouted after him as he jumped out of the Honda’s passenger side. She shook her head over his failure to realize the value of money. Increasingly, this was all her beleaguered mind could muster up.
He, on the other hand, felt fresh and footloose and fancy-free. He had finally realized the lesson of this movie he now carried in his hand. He would never need to rent it again. He was finally free.
Approaching the main counter of “Videotronica”, he smiled a mile wide smile at the somber-faced clerk.
“This is a little late, but we just had to watch it a second time. Do you think you could..” he made a sweeping gesture with an imaginary broom, followed by the lifting of an imaginary carpet.
The stone face of the clerk was broken by a yawn.
“Ahh, so you are a connoisseur of the yawn apples from the tree of boredom ?” He mimed the picking of an apple and opened his mouth wide into a yawn that closed down on the apple. “A truly boring fruit, indeed,” he said, continuing to smile at the clerk.
He had never felt so free in his life, as at this moment.
Outside his wife’s car was rear-ended, rear-ended, rear-ended by three Vespas.