Betrayed! I have been betrayed. That’s the only explanation for this glowing review. How could you do this to me? How could you make such good shows out of such bad ideas?
This is your fault, you know. I didn’t want to try this scheme again. But no, all you smartie-pants MIT types convinced me to make more flops. Why did I listen to you? It didn’t work the first time, why would it work now? Look, I’m running out of ideas, and I refuse to go back to rented tuxes. We have to get our act together!
I know you’re not paying attention to anything I say (and why should you?), but read Bitdiddle’s review. And get it right next time!
Ben Bitdiddle's Review
My critic-bot tells me that Mayan Fair Lady was an absolute smash hit. An indigenous cast of hundreds, the largest fielded on stage in recent times, emerged each scene as if printed from a linotype machine, in identical riotous garb.
Mary O’Connor was lovely as high priestess Elizacatlipoca. Karl Heinz played Henry Higgins, a scholar of paleolinguistics, who arrives in Chichen Itza to map the Mayan glyphs representing the apocalypse, scattered apparently at random about the complex. On hearing Elizacatlipoca speak, he bets a colleague he can teach her perfect English by December 21st—just one month away.
Higgins trains Eliza with a passion until she can mimic the Queen. He even dreams of bringing her back with him. But once his bet is won, she leaves him to marry some schmuck named Ferdinand, exorcising her british accent. Higgins, heartbroken, pours out his grief in a beautiful aria as he returns home to Oxford.
Six digits up.