Recommended by Doug DeVita

Only from the mind of Rachael Carnes could we get this delightful send up of Bigfoot, Community Theatre, and Anthropomorphic Plays. Me like. No. Me LOVE!

As someone who has sat through “Einstein On The Beach” far more times than he ever intended (Oh the things we do to keep a spouse happy), there’s not much I can say about this three page, three act musical except it’s a Goddamn perfect work of genius and I loved every pretense-slamming word.

Two dogs watching – and commenting on – a dog show on television? Yes, please! Especially when the dogs are as pithy, witty, and lovable as Lucy and Ruby are in this anthropomorphic delight from Lee R. Lawing. But what gives the play its edge is Lawing’s understanding of both dog and human nature, and the commentary about both he employs with a gentle, if implacable, hand.

Hypnotic, lyrical, magical, and deeply, deeply moving, this short play is like a disturbing dream from which you nonetheless do not wish to awaken. Beautifully crafted, its four characters haunt with their interconnected wants, needs, and histories. I’d love to see this staged; while it needs very little in terms of its physical production, it’s a field day for a lighting and sound designer, as well as for its cast and director. So many opportunities for them to sweep us all up into their story.

Oh what fun! What dark, inventive, smart fun! And the screams! Those screams! They’d be worth the price of admission alone, although I can imagine a trio of actors having a field day with the whole charming, hilarious piece. And it leaves you wondering whether having a lifelong scream affliction might just be worth it for a weekend in a motel with BigAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

Just who are the monsters in this lethally dark comedy? Carbajal masterfully plays with our expectations, throwing in some really funny belly laughs to keep us off guard, and then pulls the rug out from under us with swift, terrifying aplomb. A terrific work, with great roles for three middle aged actors. I’d love to see this staged!

Hageman perfectly captures the strained relationship between a father and son with diametrically opposed beliefs in this beautifully elegiac short play; it’s wonderfully strange yet absolutely appropriate that the one thing that brings these two together is also the thing that drives them apart. Lovely, moving, heartbreaking, and magical.

I had the overture to Mozart’s LE NOZZE DI FIGARO playing softly in the background as I read this, and it was oddly, inappropriately appropriate. The joyful merriment of the overture perfectly accompanied the joyful, almost anarchic merriment of Sickles' imaginative, largely dialogue and song-free mini-musical. And to throw another composer into the mix, it’s delightful, it’s delicious, it’s delovely.

Who can resist a documentary-making, grudge-holding cow named Caroline? Although, as she points out, her real name is Wilhemina. Damn those know-it-all humans. Ostensibly about life on a failing farm and the pros and cons of raw vs. unpasteurized milk, playwright Amy Bernstein’s over-arching point of view – which is Caro... uhm Wilhemina's point of view – is we’re all pretty clueless and should just step aside and let animals rule the world. Bernstein makes her point using language just heightened enough to be theatrical without being precious, her richly drawn characters, and a wonderfully sly, dark humor.

Purple prose and yellow journalism are used to deliciously lurid effect in this endlessly fascinating southern gothic mystery/thriller. McBurnette-Andronicos builds the tension slowly and surely, every now and then throwing in a curve ball to keep us off balance, and ultimately delivers a completely satisfying, sensationally entertaining piece of period Americana, except this sure as hell ain’t Mayberry. I loved every colorful word.