23

SATURDAY

They swore, the merry deviants at Cherry Red Productions did, that their theatrical day wasn’t over, never mind that their mad genius (company Artistic Director Ian Allen) has decamped to Brooklyn and there’s been nary a 7-foot singing penis seen anywhere in, oh, at least a couple of years now. I suppose we can be grateful for the Mormon-zombie movie, but the limits and expense of narrative filmmaking have meant a woeful scarcity (since last year, anyway) of Chandra Levy– related necrophilia and male-female twins conjoined at the genitalia. Hail, then, the last and final hurrah of Cherry Red’s Day-Old Plays festival, in which D.C.’s least self-conscious theatrical people get together to write and stage six short plays in 24 hours. Last year’s installment featured the blatant, gleefully mean-spirited mocking of a self-important local actress then starring in some pretty heavy-duty Shakespeare, along with an unexpected bit of participation from an audience member who loudly observed that the conflation of Shannen Doherty and Osama bin Laden was “not funny.” There probably won’t be any naked Riverdancers bouncing about this time around, but really there’s no telling, so venture out if you dare at 8 and 11 p.m. at the Warehouse Theater, 1021 7th St. NW. $15. (202) 298-9077.