Frankenstein Rhapsody

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(to the tune of Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody")

Is this real life?
Is this just fantasy?
Caught in landslide,
No escape from reality.

Me open eyes,
Look up to skies and see,
Me just poor Monster, me need no sympathy,
Because me easy come, easy go,
Little high, little low,
Any way wind blow, it not really matter to me, to me.

Doctor, me just kill girl,
Me drop her in well,
Not on purpose, but she fell.
Doctor, life had just begun,
But now peasants are chasing me away.

Doctor, ooh,
Didn't mean to kill your wife,
If me not back again this time tomorrow,
Carry on, carry on as if nothing really matter.

Too late, my time has come,
Sends shivers down my spine,
Bolts aching all the time.
Goodbye, stupid peasants, me got to go,
Gotta leave you all behind and face truth.

Doctor, ooh (any way wind blow),
Me not want die,
Me sometimes wish me not wake up on slab.

I see a bigass Monster on the fritz,
Frankenstein’s creation, putting on the Ritz. 
Thunderbolt and lightning,
Very, very frightening me.
(Polidori) Polidori.
(Polidori) Polidori,
Me so sorry.
Magnifico-o-o-o-o.

Me just a Monster, nobody love me.
He’s just a Monster from a laboratory,
Let’s hunt him down, make him feel sorry.

Easy come, easy go, will you let me go?
Bismillah! No, we will not let you go. (Let him go!)
Bismillah! We will not let you go. (Let him go!)
Bismillah! We will not let you go. (Let me go!)
Will not let you go. (Let me go!)
Never let you go (Never, never, never, never let me go)
Oh oh oh oh
No, no, no, no, no, no, no
Oh, Igor, oh Igor (Tell Doctor, let me go.)
Mary Shelley has devil put aside for me, for me, for me.

So you think you can stone me and spit in my eye?
So you think you can leave me to die out on ice?
Oh, Doctor, can’t do this to me, Doctor,
Just gotta get out, just gotta get right outta here.

(Ooooh, ooh yeah, ooh yeah)

Nothing really matter,
Anyone can see,
Nothing really matter,
Cause there going to be a sequel
For me.

Any way wind blow.

Adolph Hitler, comedian

INT, Comedy Club, Berlin, 1933
Adolph Hitler walks on stage and takes the mic.

Adolph: Ja ... how many Germans are here tonight?

The Crowd ignores him, talks over him.

Adolph: Did you not hear me? 

The Crowd ignores him, talks over him.

Adolph: Then I shall speak louder. (shouting) How many Germans are here tonight?

Heckler: How many assholes?

The Crowd titters.

Heckler. I'm counting at least one.

The Crowd busts a gut.

Adolph: Stop laughing at me! (to the Crowd) I asked you before a question. I shall now repeat it for the third time! Who here is German?
Heckler: Who here gives a shit?
Adolph: Stop laughing at this man! 
Heckler: So ... where are you from, Charlie Chaplin?
Adolph: Austria! And my name is not ...
Heckler: Australia?
Adolph: Nein! Austria! Austria!
Heckler: Whatever. Either way, you're no freaking German, "Charlie."
Adolph: Nein! Germany is a race, not a ...
Heckler: Race? (turns over table) You wanna race? OK! Let's race!
Adolph: No, this is not what I ...
Heckler: (to the Crowd) OK, people. That asshole's the finish line. Aim for the mustache! Go!

The Crowd rushes the stage.

INT, MANAGER's Office

Hitler sits, bloody shirt, black eye. A piece of his mustache is torn. The Manager behind his desk regards him skeptically.

Manager: So, Mr. Schicklgruber ...
Hitler: Stage name. Please.
Manager: Fine. (sighs) Listen ... Adolph. Let's get real here. You're just not funny, man.
Hitler: No! That is a lie! I am funny! I am funny as an act of will!
Manager: No, you're not, kiddo. Listen. Why do you even want to do comedy?
Hitler: I ... I have a fear of public speaking.
Manager: In your case it's justified.
Hitler: (standing up in a rage) Are you insulting me?
Manager: Big time. Sit down.

Hitler sits. Suppresses a sob.

Hitler: As a professional man, you must understand my problem, hmm? I know you are right. I am not the funny man. But I sincerely want to be funny! How can I learn?
Manager: Learn? (scoffs) Listen, baby. You either got it or ...
Hitler: How can I learn???
Manager: OK, kid. I'm not supposed to tell you this but ... (whispering) Here's an inside tip. Try improv.
Hitler: What is this "improv" ...?
Manager: You make shit up and stay loose in the moment. No judgement, no control, no thinking. It's just what the comedy doctor ordered, baby. 
Hitler: Are you the comedy doctor?
Manager: You better believe it, pal—and here's my prescription. (hands Hitler a business card) Just go to this club. They'll teach you all the tricks. And your standup dreams will all come true.
Hitler: Ja ... (looks at card suspiciously) Are there Jews here?
Manager: In show business? C'mon.

Hitler grabs the Manager's hand, pumps it furiously.

Hitler: I can't thank you enough, sir. You shall not regret this!!

Hitler leaves. The Manager wipes his hand on his pants. His Secretary pops in.

Secretary: Improv? 
Manager: Yeah, that dive by the Bundesstrasse.
Secretary: They'll eat him alive, you know.
Manager: From your lips to God's ears.