Pataphysics tastes like…?
On tonight’s menu, straight from the kitchen of the Absurd‘s answer to Julia Child, the inimitable Mere Ubu presents dinner:
CAPTAIN MACNURE: Well, Mistress Ubu, what succulent dishes have you prepared for us today?
MA UBU: Here’s the menu.
PA UBU: That’s right up my street.
MA UBU: Polish broth, spare ribs of Polish bison, veal, chicken and hound pie, parsons’ noses from the royal Polish turkeys, charlotte russe…
PA UBU: That’s enough, I should think. Is there any more?
MA UBU: Ice-pudding, salad, fruit, cheese, boiled beef, Jerusalem fartichoke, cauliflower a la pschitt.
PA UBU: Hey, do you think I’m an oriental potentate, shelling out all that money?
MA UBU: Pay no attention to him. He’s off his rocker.
PA UBU: You wait. I shall sharpen my teeth on your shanks.
MA UBU: Just eat up and shut up, Old Ubu! Here, try the Polish broth.
PA UBU: Urghh, what muck!
CAPTAIN MACNURE: You’re right. It hasn’t quite come off.[later…]
PA UBU: Well, captain, how did you enjoy your dinner?
CAPTAIN MACNURE: Very much, Sir, except for the pschitt.
PA UBU: Oh, I didn’t think the pschitt was too bad.
MA UBU: A little of what you fancy, they say.
In the end, though, even Mere Ubu’s cooking can’t keep Pere Ubu from running into setbacks:
MA UBU: What! You say nothing, Pa Ubu! Surely you haven’t forgotten the Word?
PA UBU: Psch . . . aw, Ma Ubu! I don’t want to say that word any longer, it got me into too much trouble.
MA UBU: What do you mean — trouble? The throne of Poland, the great bonnet, the umbrella . . .
PA UBU: I don’t care for the umbrella any longer, Ma Ubu, it’s too hard to handle. I shall just use my science of physics to stop it raining!
…Paving the way of great pataphysical plans in merdre since 1896, Ubu Rex, Ubu Cuckolded, Ubu Enchained, by Alfred Jarry.
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