On Stage:

Noises from the wings. A typically scruffy group of starving graduate students (SGS's) crowd onto the stage. The leader, a person with long, dirty blond braids, is riding a wooden camel on wheels, and his or her followers are astride sticks with camel heads attached. One of the sticks ends in a cluster of bristles. "Hey, bring back our props," voices shout from the wings. The Widow Twanky's demand is more expicit. "Bring back my broom!" she shrieks. "I've got a curling match after this is over!"

The leader of the SGS's stikes a pose on his camel. "Fear not," he (or she, the distinction is not apparent) exclaims. "We heard one of your acts didn't show, and we've got a great substitute! A lecture on Nuclear Physics that we just presented at the AGU! A new, world-shaking hypothesis on the origin of the ozone hole. Really woke those stuffy scientists up! Too bad the airlines lost our overheads, but who needs graphics?"
The Master of Ceremonies moans, but the group whips out yellow lab notebooks and begins to sing:

The Performance