"Hysterical, campy fun!"
- Tony Brown, cleveland.com

"Full of suspense, romance, drama and lots of laughs!"

- Dan Shaurette, Out of the Coffin podcast

This extraordinary one-act drama deftly explores the evolution of the centuries-old vampire myth.

Wednesday, October 12, 2005

Nine-Year Curse

In late 1996, a fifteen year-old "sad kid" auditioned for the original run of The Vampyres and practically begged us to give her the part of Claire, the fifteen-year old coffee store employee.

"I AM Claire!" she pleaded, and she was right. But to no avail. Even back then I was squeamish about having someone underage actually participate in the performance ... at least on-stage. And the show was not nearly as disturbing then as it is today.

Tonight, Wednesday, October 12, a young woman's dream will finally come true. Sarah Kunchik, our outstanding stage manager for this production will, after waiting nearly a decade, perform the role which introduced her to all of us.

The poetry had better be outstanding, truly overdone and painful. Rant to your heart's content, Sarah K. It is truly the fashion these days.

Ms. Herwald will return on Thursday.

More Verse from Last Weekend

Thurs. 10/6
Silence greets my midnight words
My art is sooooo beyond these nerds
I write with words of blinding truth
I offer rhymes of blackest proof
I cry aloud again and again
But how many hear me?
Eh... max, 10.
Why waste my breath?
Why waste my art?
This empty void reflects my heart

Sat. 10/8
From deep within my bottomless soul
Words of darkness clang and toll
Scribble, scribble
Blood of ink
Must tell them of the thoughts I think
But home is like a prison term
With those donors of the egg and sperm
"Stop your scribbling! Study math!"
My scribbling is their epitaph
My words will be like a blood bath

Sun. 10/9
Consuming trite things by the pound
That's what makes the world go 'round
Watch football games
Listen to rap
Wear baby pink socks from the Gap
You'll never see the dark inside
This midnight world from which you hide
The lamentations of the dead
Would fill your Disney heart with dread
But you cannot stay blind to the night
The truth is in the verse I write

- Claire


Sir Percival said...

I was wondering if the difficulty we had getting photos of Percy and George had less to do with lighting and camera problems and more to do with the difficulty in capturing a vampyre's image. Is it anything like not being seen in a mirror? Perhaps I've just gotten way deep into the vampyre thing and I can't be photographed. That's gonna really fuck up my ability to get new head shots. (Provided I can ever afford them.)

pengo said...

No, I think it's the difficulty in seeing your hairline in natural light.


Henrik said...

Hairline? You dare mock another's line of hair?

sarah said...

david hansen you crack my shit up.
i will whip up something dark for the occasion, perhaps direct from the 1997 cellar. that year was a particularly angsty vinatge.

i can now die happy.

pengo said...


lauralu said...

in the picture shown here, ms kunchik resembles brenda's client the prostitute from six feet under. is it just me?

not to suggest that the esteemed ms kunchik appears to be of questionable - or professional - virture, of course; just that she resembles the actress who played the client that turned out to be a prostitute.

i'll just stop now.

sarah said...

i wish i was actress enough to land a part on six feet under!

tonight was fantastic.
thanks to all involved for making it so special.

i did my best to make you proud david. and damn it just really made me want to act again.

Sir Percival said...

Hairline? I didn't realize I still had a hairline. I thought it was more of a hair-fade due to my proceeding forehead. Sort of a glorious soft-shade transition from my voluptuous visage to my luscious locks.

It turns out that it's really nature's way of protecting you people... for you see, the solid hairline would simply overwhelm mere mortals. The sight of me with a solid hairline would result in the spontaneous overexertion of human erogenous zones and explosive release of hormones at a rate nearly the speed of light, which would cause genitalia to essentially implode, thereby causing everyone to go fuck themselves.

The hospitals are not prepared for that cataclysmic release of my sexual energy. So perhaps it's a good thing no photos were successful.

Or could it be operator error? Nah. It's my sexual thing.

pengo said...

Are we still talking about that? Wake up, it's Friday.