Almost ten years ago, we produced our first show at Riverrun Theatre, Burn This by Lanford Wilson. In the midst of that, on a dare, I wrote the Dr. Seuss version of the story.

Needless to say, if you don’t know the play, don’t get so tense, cause this won’t make much sense. (Though I should note for clarity, one line refers to our lead actor in the show, Joel David Santner.)

Oh, the places we’ve been…

with apologies to Dr. Seuss and Lanford Wilson

I am Pale.
Pale am I.

That Pale-am-I!
That Pale-am-I!
I do not like
that cognac guy!

Baby-shit Trans Am is beeping,
I jump out, shout, “Are you keeping
Those pop-up headlights,” that was it–
Do you like good food and shit?

Do I know you? Should I know you?
Should I, could I, would I know you?

Rob was light, some guys are dark–
Took forever just to park…
Fuckin’ fruit, fuckin’ fruit,
What the fuck, you fuckin’ fruit–
Let’s see what tomorrow brings;
Tits are such deceptive things.

There are times I’m a good listener.
[Listen, Larry, now he’s kissin’ her.]
I can hear them, off in bed,
Freight train running through my head–

Morning all, let’s skip some scenes–
You know what our screwing means?

Pale, we didn’t start this out–
Well, yes, we did, without a doubt–
I do not like the way you think,
I do not like the stench of drink,
I do not like the way you talk,
I do not like your cocky walk.
Don’t be truculent, you fuck–

What’s that mean?

Think “like a truck.”


Now I’ll leave
So Bruce can enter–

[Lights up, we see Burton, center]

Burton, may I read your script?
I’ll be discreet and quite tight-lipped.

Sure, you may, then let her read it.
Maybe I should just go beat it…

Could you, would you, in a doorway,
Maybe wife way, maybe whore way,
Maybe while the snow is drifting,
Doesn’t need no heavy lifting–

I see your fox, I see your socks,
I see you getting off your rocks,
I would not, could not, in a doorway,
In a Santner or a Loehr way
No regrets, I don’t know why,
But I am not that kind of guy,
I will not go on blowing cocks,
Or suffer cheap dramatic shocks.
I will not eat you, Lar Am I,
Cause I am not that kind of guy.

Would you eat me on a plane?
Would you eat me on a train?
Would you blow me if you knew me?
Would you know me if you blew me?

I would not eat you on a plane,
I would not eat you on a train,
Or a ship or on a tractor,
Anywhere, you prophylactor,
I will not eat you, Lar Am I,
Cause I am not that kind of guy.

Could you, would you, with a goat?
I would not, could not, with a goat.

Would you believe, that’s a Seuss quote.
(“Who is Sylvia?” Albee once wrote.)

Time to go, this scene is talky,
Have a nice life, now Milwaukee….

Don’t be scared, I’m sitting here,
Stone cold sober, stunned like deer–
Larry left a note and shit,
A key, a thought, a theatre ticket.
That was you and me up there,
Tho we ain’t danced, and that’s not fair.

What’d he write,
The little bastard,
In his note–
No, read it faster.

“Pale am I, you lovely doll,
You’ve got to come, and that is all.
Cupid-like, I work my magic,
Why should love always be tragic?
As you both are diathermous,
Tell the truth, then go and burn this.”

I do not want you, Pale am I,
I did not want you, don’t ask why.

You do not want me, so you say.
Try me, try me, and you may.
Try me, and you may, I say.

I did not expect all this,
I did not expect your kiss,
I did not think I’d ever care,
Shit, man, crying in your hair.