Write the lyrics for one big number for a musical theater production. The theme of the musical should be something that has not been turned into a musical before (or at least not done before to the best of your knowledge), like “The Walking Dead The Musical”, or “Paul Blart the Musical”, or “What Every Computer Scientist Should Know About Floating-Point Arithmetic the Musical”.
For extra credit, do anything extra related to the fake musical. Examples: write lyrics to more than one song for the musical, write music for the song and/or record a version of your song, or make title art or a fake Playbill for the musical.
The Results
Ryan Finholm
“The Check Song”, from Brazil the Musical
[Sam Lowry]
Knock Knock Knock
Knock Knock Knock
Mrs. Buttle? Mrs. Buttle. I’m so glad I caught you home.
I have one small piece of business to transact.
The Ministry of Information sent me, I’m Sam Lowry,
And I’m here on their behalf, and that’s a fact –
Well, my office is just Records – but that’s neither here nor there,
I have come here for this very simple task:
To give to you this payment… reimbursement, if you will,
For a small mistake in invoicing a mis-allotted bill –
[Mrs. Buttle, not singing, interrupting the flow:]
Mistake?
[Sam Lowry, trying to get back into the flow/rhythm]
Yes I suppose that’s how it goes. Not my department, I’m afraid.
It seems your husband was inaccurately charged.
They don’t often make mistakes, but that’s the sacrifice one makes
When enjoying all the perks of a bureaucracy this large.
But this should resolve everything:
A settlement! An offering!
It’s Christmastime, and so I’ve come to call.
I’m bringing you this check to fix it all.
I figured you’d appreciate the –
[Mrs. Buttle, not singing, interrupting the flow again:]
My husband is dead, isn’t he?
[Sam Lowry, thrown off, takes a couple measures trying to get back into the flow/rhythm]
I assure you, Mrs. Buttle, that the Ministry is thorough
In eradicating every little flaw.
If you have a complaint, I’d be quite happy to acquaint
You with the forms that you could fill out so your ease can be regained.
It’s odd, me coming all this way,
But, you know, it’s the holidays,
It’s Christmastime, and so I’ve come to call.
I’m bringing you this check to fix it all.
[Mrs. Buttle, not singing, interrupting the flow again]
What have you done with his body?
[Sam Lowry, having much more difficulty getting back into the flow/rhythm]
Um… I’m very, very sorry, I don’t know a thing about it,
I am really only here to give the check.
If you’d do me this one favor and just sign on these receipts,
I’ll go away without delay, and I’ll leave you in peace.
It’s Christmastime.
I’m bringing you this check to –
[Mrs. Buttle interrupts Lowry’s finale, not singing]
He hadn’t done anything! He was good! What have you done with his body?
Brian Raiter
Selection from Critical Miss: G*merg*te, the Musical
[Chorus of Gaters]
She’s no saint and she’s no virgin,
(Are any private photos emergin’?)
She’s sure no Madonna, and so therefore
By the process of elimination
That proves she’s a whore.
[MRA Soloist #1]
Things once were very different,
Not so very long ago.
(Not that we were alive then,
But so we are told.)
Yes, back then everybody
All heartily concurred
That women were to be
Seen and not heard.
[MRA Soloist #2]
Now these feminists are trying
To undo the underlying
Morality and norms that make
This whole lattice go.
These harpies will do anything
If they think that it will bring
The patriarchial cultural
Apparatus low.
[Chorus of MRAs]
Oh, the times they are a-changing
The pecking order’s rearranging
But we’ll stomp all over anyone
To keep the status quo.
[Chorus of Gaters]
No St. Louisans, no Virginians,
They’re just women with opinions.
They’re nothing like Madonna, and so therefore
By Holmes’s process of elimination …
[Columnist, aside to audience]
… Or someone’s process of elimination …
[Gater Soloist #44, spoken interjection]
“– Alimentary, my dear Watson!”
[Chorus of Gaters]
… That proves she’s a whore.
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[Chorus of MRAs]
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[Chorus of Gaters, chanting quietly at first and gradually getting louder until yelling at the end]
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They can’t be ignored.
Like we’ve done before.
They must be abhorred.
All you I implore.
We must be restored.
So threats will outpour.
Their words all deplored.
We’ll flood them some more.
Until we’ve outscored.
Like nothing before.
Our hate the reward.
Because this means war.
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Because this means war.
Because this means war.
Because this means war.
Because this means war.
Because this means war.
Because this means war.
Because this means war.
Because this means war.
Because this means war.
Because this means war.
Because this means war.
Because this means war.
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