december 7 to 15, 2018

urban tales#12

Feathers: 12 days of Xmas stories spun from a silly song

Created in collaboration with (Urbi & Orbi)

Direction and Music Harry Standjofski


friday dec. 7

saturday dec. 8

tuesday dec. 11

friday dec. 14

saturday dec. 15


Alarey Alsip

Danette MacKay

Laurent Pitre

Harry Standjofski

Come share an eggnog with us at Centaur Theatre’s annual antidote to the excess of candy cane-coated, warm-and-fuzzy feelings typical of the holiday season. For five shows only, this seasonal tongue-in-cheek event features some of Montreal’s best actors telling stories - ranging from side-splittingly hilarious to downright bizarre. Accomplished playwright and actor, Harry Standjofski, directs and provides live music between each irreverent tale.



Exterminating Angel by Yvan Bienvenue, translated & told by Harry Standjofski


The story I’m going to tell you

You don’t have to believe it

I heard it from the mouth of an angel

A common angel

An angel I took for a man

Who is just a man, really

A common angel



The Women’s Christmas by L.M. Leonard, told by Danette MacKay


From my window, I can see everything in her apartment.

She’s half-naked again. Pants off, bottom bare. Skin gleaming in the light.

Her window is like a movie screen that never stops playing. Sometimes she has company – odd looking men for such a pretty young woman – and then she closes the curtains. Intermission. Sometimes she forgets but I don’t look.



A Christmas Caroler written & told by Laurent Pitre


This one time, last Christmas, coldest winter yet, snow up to your waist, I’m sitting at home, sipping some tea, smiling

You know why I’m smiling?

You know why I’m smiling

Because nobody would be crazy enough to go singing outside on a night like this

So, as I said, I’m sitting there, in my house, watching Netflix, on my computer, in my

sweatpants, sipping some tea, smiling

And then, just as I’m about to reach a state that some would describe as heavenly—




Douai by Harry Standjofski, told by Laurent Pitre


This guy was, like, looking at the canal ice or something

He was a poet
He was French but spoke some English

His voice was scratchy
Asked us where we were headed and we told him Kandahar and he looked at us for a second and then said "good luck boys"...
I asked him what he was doing out in the cold so late
Told us he'd just had his “funding slashed”, whatever the fuck that means
The other guys wanted to get going but I asked him "read us something..."



Motherless Milk by Joanne Sarazen, told by Alarey Alsip


Clara cannot be thick. Clara must be thin. She must glide through the air supported by the arms of some airborne, underdeveloped man-child. You mustn’t hurt his back. You mustn’t remind him that he’s weak. Men hate to be reminded that they’re weak. They get angry. I don’t get angry. Except the once. When my breasts wouldn’t stop reminding me of everything I’d lost.



seven last words written and told by Harry Standjofski


Life really does pass before your eyes

When you’re staring down the barrel of a gun

But why is this particular life flashing before mine?

I’m thinking about the differences between the male and female reproductive systems

Copyright © 2018 - Centaur Theatre Company