The Pyramid by Sarama Sun Teague is a fictional narrative which was adapted for a live audience performance by Lucius Robinson at Dell’Arte International – School of Physical Theatre.

So there’s this Pyramid in my backyard I started building back in ’92.  Built it thinking that if shit goes down New Year’s Eve 1999, and aliens throw some thunder bolts and set the whole world on fire, this Pyramid might save my life.  But after I built it, I kinda forgot about it.  Never put anything in it other than a case of beer.  New Year’s ‘99 came and I spent it at some party in some kid’s basement, my Pyramid lonely and abandoned.  Same thing my ex-wife would tell me eighteen years later: I built the marriage and then abandoned her in it.  That’s what she called it—I call it paying bills—but I digress.  (Man…  back in ’92 though, the idea of marriage had never even took a flying shit on my horizon.  I was a free man, and my eyeline stretched from here to the edge of the world.)

So I built the Pyramid and forgot all about it until the other night when I ran out of alcohol.  Doesn’t happen much, but my check to the cable company bounced, which made some other shit go deficit, and the proverbial fountain ran the fuck dry.  No TV and no booze.  Damn.  It’s enough to make a man a dull boy.  But then I remembered: “Oh there’s a case of beer in the Pyramid that’s about—mmm—twenty-one years old right now!”  Twenty-one was about how old I was when I built the Pyramid, you know.  I was always a sharp hand with laying cement and knocking together boards, and I crafted this Pyramid like a veritable fucking temple.  Couldn’t really tell you where the idea for it came from; it was like a dream I had.  A message to get ready for 1999.