Gwen's Corner

Renn Show Report
By: JJ Lockheart

Ok kids, I have not written show report in forever so bear with me.
Let’s start off with the lineup.

Frank- Saturn
Janet- Eris
Brad- Fish
Riff- Starman
Maggie- JJ
Columbia- Halo
Dr. Scott- Marc
Rocky- Wes
Eddie- Mary
Crimmie- Shannon
Transies- Amy, Cory, Limey, Ashley, Emo, Britt, KC, Kirk, Leah
Spot A- Scott
Spot B- Bizah
Board- Nuggett
Sound- David and Sean
Tank- Cody, Wes, Nuggett, Marc
Floorwalkers- Cody, Marc, Emo
Pre-Show- JJ and Eris
Show Report- JJ
Piccies- Walker
Absent- Emily, Fred, Mike, Donna, Daniel, Pete, Jason, Stefanie, TJ

I’ll begin in the beginning with the opening of the doors. If you were at the renn show you would have been greeted by Metallica’s cover of Whiskey in the Jar. “Metallica at a renn show?” you ask. Yes, Whiskey in the Jar is a very old and traditional ballad. James Hatfield just so happens to sing my favorite version. James Hatfield is also one of my fantasy husbands. Back to the show. Next were two awesome Bastard appropriate renn songs. “She’s a Whore,” and “Hey Nonnie Nonnie.” Both equally obscene and filthy.

On to the announcements. Ah, one very important new thing. We are offering up, exclusively, the opportunity to buy back your Rocky Virginity. Ever reminisce about that first day your friends dragged or tricked you into coming to the show? Scared, nervous, maybe a little excited. The butterflies in your stomach feeling like drunken sumo wrestlers. Well, for one dollar per ticket, you can buy a chance to become a Born Again Virgin. We will draw a ticket from the hat and if you are chosen, you win a spot to compete in the virgin games. Good Luck!

Virgin Games. We decided to draw inspiration from one of our favorite renn faire songs. “The Cucumber Song” by Iris and Rose: Wild and Thorny. “Line up for your cucumbers ladies, they’re selling for two pounds a piece. Your frustrated days are all over, and cucumbers never get pissed.” Eris found the most misshapen obscene cucumbers at the grocery store. We had our unsuspecting virgin sacrifices deep throat those cucumbers like freakin’ Liverpool Judies. To prove how far they had shoved those green phallic vegetables in their mouths, they had to leave a little bite. Just some teeth marks for comparison. “Be they ugly or unsightly, or just plan make you sick, every girl is pretty with her lips wrapped round your….um….cucumber.” It’s a good thing we didn’t ask them to pickle them. EEEWWW….Nasty. Moving on.

Start ye olde fucking flick. The show started without a hitch. Wes managed to get thorough the whole opening dance unscathed in his great kilt. I’m impressed. He is usually like a pork chop dangling on a string in front of a bunch of pit bulls. Side note, Wes and I were both wearing about fourteen yards of plaid wool between the two of us. Someone please smack us if we decide to do this again. I personally had sweated off most of my makeup before the end of opening dance. What the fuck was I thinking? This proves the Bastards will go to just about any lengths to make a good show for you. Personal discomfort and self torture being paramount.

The wedding scene went along as usual. I would like to draw attention to one of our semi new props. Riff Raff’s pitchfork. There’s nothing much special about it except that it has a fluffy bunny impaled on it all bloody and freaking hilarious. I laugh every time I see it. This was a new prop made up while I was on hiatus for Scarbie. Try to take notice next time you come on out to the show. Its detail like this that really brings big obnoxious color to the big picture.

Janet and Brad, I mean Maid Marian and Tights wearing Pansy, are driving off to go tell Dr. Scott about their recent betrothal. Funny I didn’t know horse drawn chariots had steering wheels. Amy used her shiny sparkly faerie wings as the windshield wipers. Crouching down in those costumes would have been next to impossible. Let me tell you a secret about the car scene. It is the least favorite scene for Columbia and Magenta. We have to crouch down in the seats and stick our legs up in the air and move them back and forth in unison for what seems like eternity. You can’t see or hear it but we are begging Brad to just shut off the fucking ignition. Exhausto.

Time Warp. It’s just a jump to the left, and then a step to the right. Hmm, kind of reminds me Espangaletta. Ok, for you non renn faire goers, it’s a fancy provocative court dance. I suppose that is what rocky boils down to. Frank is the queen and all the transies and his servants make up his court in his castle.

Undressing Brad was interesting. I turned the tights wearing pansy into a pouch wearing pansy. Tights are to be peeled off rather than pulled down. Fish looked so cute standing there in his briefs and pouch. Worn right in the front like a kilt sporran for modesty of course. Come along her majesty Queen Frank doesn’t like to be kept waiting.

Queen Frank looks more like Errol Flynn as Robin Hood. That was the intention. He very well could have been misconstrued as Peter Pan. Pointy green hat, feather. You get the point. Amy and I had to hold the mic up for Frank. Alas our mic stand has, after many years, bit the dust. Hey, anyone got one they want to donate? Anyways, when having to stand in for the stand, it is only natural to want to have fun with it. We did everything from racking him in the balls to sticking it up his nose. Wow, fun and frivolity is the name of the game at the renn show. Huzzah!

Creating the monster. A rousing bit of Scottish Highland dancing was just the ticket to witness the birth of the laddie Rocky in his red great kilt. We had to improvise with the unwrapping of rocky. Wes wrapped his arms and legs but not his torso. So, I took down the draped wool on his shoulder. If there is one thing you learn from rocky, its how to improvise. It’s essential to the success of every show.

Eddie crashes the party. Mary charged in on her steel horse terrorizing all in her wake. All for the love of the faire faerie princess Columbia. Eddie commences in mortal combat with Queen Frank and sadly perishes under the blade of the battle pick ax. Frank emerges from the icy depths of the cold cave of doom. Exhausted with bloody weapon in hand. Long live the queen! Frank’s reward for such a noble victory, the wedding of his dreams to the bonny wee lad clad in the kilt.

Nap time. Sort of. Brad and Janet are shown to their separate rooms to retire for the evening. Little did they know, Frank was about to go medieval on their asses. Hedonistic romping behind the sheets ensues and inhibitions are set aside. I’ll bet Brad and Janet never imagined they would loose their virginity to such royalty as Queen Frank. Tell me, your majesty, do virgins taste better than those who are not? Are they salty or sweet or more juicy or what? Do virgins taste better than those who are not? Meanwhile, Rocky escapes and I release the hounds of hell to hunt down the the queen’s new play thing.

Janet has had a taste of forbidden fruit. Hmm, what will she do next? Oh, I guess sex with the queen turned her into ye olde whore. Like me, it seems she has an eye for the kilted Scotsman. Ah what the hell, she decides to go for it. Meanwhile, over in Colombia and Magenta’s room….. A lucky young buck from the audience won the lesbian raffle. So he had the privilege, nay, the exquisite pleasure of sitting in on the lesbian scene. I thing he did not expect to be hog tied, spanked and smothered in my bosom. You are welcome lad. Come back any time. I always like a young man who doesn’t mind a little of the rope and gag.

It’s time to freeze up all this nonsense and get on to the floorshow. Cheeky house guests creating nothing but trouble get what’s coming to them. Dare to speak against the queen and you will be turned into a plaster mannequin to be dressed in the most appalling of garb. Next you will be reanimated and made to dance before suffering the fate of the ducking stool torture in a great body of water.

Riff and Magenta have had just about enough of all this. We are an army of two. Riff is a hooded, dark archer and Magenta is a fierce, Celtic warrior. Armed to the teeth, ready to battle the queen. Frank is about to grind to a screeching halt from his floorshow fantasy. “How Sentimental,” I say. Frank turns around to face his doom. Slowly we back him down to meet his maker. No amount of pleading or groveling will save him now. Columbia fizzles to her fate after a hard lashing of “I DO NOT BELIEVE IN FAERIES!!!” Frank stares death in the face at the tip of Riff’s sword. Die you English dog, Die! Rocky runs over to the rescue but he is too late. He tries to carry his queen to safety but is struck down. It is our turn to go medieval on his ass! Down, Down, Down, they fall into the abyss.

Dr. Scott in his attempt to get in the good graces of the conquering warriors says “You did right.” Still blood thirsty from the fresh kill, Riff and Magenta confront him and give him one last chance to take the high road. Get the fuck out of our castle. We return to our kingdom immediately rather than on the morrow. Trust us; leave now while it is still possible.

The Kingdom of Transvestite awaits our return dear brother. We shall sit again on the throne and our court will dance the Time Warp again! We depart with our battle cries of violent victory.

Fin