Theartical Silliness care of The Onion

Found this on The Onion site. Well, it tickled my funny bone anyways...

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By Herman T Zweibel.

To my universally celebrated works of drama, The Happy Bed-Chamber and The News-Paper Man And The Elves, I would like to add my third and most ambitious effort to date, The Syphilis-Crazed Young Norwegian Man.

Dramatis Personae:

OSVALD, a young man.

OSVALD'S MOTHER, Osvald's mother.

PASTOR MANDERS, family friend.

GHOST, ghost.

P. THURMAN ZEEBULL, famed publisher and author of this play.

HENRIK IBSEN, playwright.

ACT ONE. The drawing-room of a cottage by the sea.

Enter OSVALD'S MOTHER and PASTOR MANDERS.

PASTOR MANDERS: Your son Osvald has grown into a fine young man, Osvald's Mother.

OSVALD'S MOTHER: Yet, Pastor Manders, I fear he shall be cut down in his very prime. He was infected with the clap during conception by Osvald's Father, a wayward sea-captain who is presumed lost at sea. The boy can go crackers any second.

PASTOR MANDERS: My word!

ACT TWO. Same setting. Enter OSVALD.

OSVALD: I feel as right as rain.

[Enter GHOST.]

GHOST: I am the ghost of your sea-captain father. I'm afraid I infected you with the clap during conception. Sorry.

[Exit GHOST.]

OSVALD: Oh, damn. Now you tell me.

[OSVALD lets loose a stream of gibberish and bounces out of the drawing room on his head.]

OSVALD'S MOTHER: Osvald! Osvald!!

INTERMISSION. Concessions may be sold in the lobby.

ACT THREE. Same setting. Enter P. THURMAN ZEEBULL.

P. THURMAN ZEEBULL: This play I wrote is very exciting.

[Enter HENRIK IBSEN.]

HENRIK IBSEN: You American @!#$, you ripped off my play Ghosts.

P. THURMAN ZEEBULL: Quite so, and if anything, I improved it greatly. Yours was very boring.

HENRIK IBSEN: Have at you, sir! I shall obtain satisfaction!

[IBSEN brandishes a duelling epee, but before he can attack, ZEEBULL runs him over with his wheel-chair. IBSEN dies.]

ZEEBULL: Huzzah! America is the greatest land of all!

CURTAIN.