Home of the Vampire Cowboys

From the summer of 2007 to the summer of 2011,
The Battle Ranch
was Vampire Cowboys' physical home located originally in Williamsburg, Brooklyn and then later moved to its more recognized location in Bushwick, Brooklyn.

The space that primarily operated as a rehearsal studio for many downtown Indie Theater companies also was the home for The Rabid Vamps Fight Studio and the extremely popular The Saturday Night Saloon which showcased and celebrated a community of innovative downtown talents from critically acclaimed companies The Brick, Gideon Productions, Impetuous Theatre Group, LAByrinth, Ma-Yi Theater, Nosedive Productions, Piper McKenzie and featured serialized plays and works by hot NY writers Megan Mostyn-Brown, Dustin Chinn, James Comtois, Brent Cox, Jon Hoche, Mrinalini Kamath, Michael Lew, Jeff Lewonczyk, Adam Scott Mazer, A. Rey Pamatmat, Robert Ross Parker, Mac Rogers, Brian Silliman, Crystal Skillman, Adam Swiderski, Temar Underwood, and Webb Wilcoxen.

The space officially closed its doors on June 25, 2011 with the special event
The Saturday Night Saloon: Last Call

The following is the final piece of that evening, two poems written
by the brilliant Brian Silliman, that marked the closing of VC's beloved space:

Such a fond, fond farewell to this ranch of the battle
Where audiences are corralled and herded like cattle
to sit, kneel, and crouch, or most likely to stand
for artists that are so very much in demand
Where will I go now for new plays to see?
Where will I wait for six hours to pee?
Oh Parker, and Qui, and the great lady Marcus
when you close these doors, our lives will be darkus.
Instead of foreclosing, I can buy it instead
and I’ll still be running it long after you’re dead.

The Battling Sorceress was known across the land for two very specific things: She battled, and she was a sorceress.

She was quite popular amongst the other magic wielders of the land, and it was generally acknowledged that her sorcery was far and away the very best. She was also mega hot and had it goin on, so that helped too. All the best witches and wizards of the land were drawn to her, and she never lacked for friends and colleagues. And what talented friends and colleagues they were. Jelda the Jolly. Harphouse the Galvanized. Brent Cox. Even Fuckface of Fragonsturd, who nobody really liked.

The problem was that magic was slowly going out of style. Whereas once the Sorceress and her friends had been the bees knees, of late they were starting to feel like the bees ass. The land was growing interested in other things, and magic of their kind didn’t seem to matter as much as it once did.

And so one day, after saving a village of vintage virgin vixens with a particularly pleasant portrayal of power, she had an idea.

She would build a strong and stupendous castle, and this castle would become a bolstering bastion of their artform that was slowly being consumed by an oncoming darkness. This castle would be a towering stronghold where her and her magical bretheren could gather, and work, and laugh, show off for each other, and most importantly to drink. Just because they were magical didn’t mean that they were prudes.

She searched for the most perfect place, and finally came upon a towering mountain in the heart of the land. Here, she decided to lay her foundation. She called her bretheren to her, and together they erected their mighty and magnificent fortress. It had towers. And rehearsal rooms. And a Shawarma place.

Every Saturday night, the Battling Sorceress and her merry band of magic users would trek to the castle atop the mountain, and they would display their magic for all to see. These evenings grew so popular that villagers from the surrounding territories started visiting the castle themselves, and soon enough the sorceress found herself with a continually sold out castle. She was building something special, and everyone wanted to be a part of it. Even Fuckface of Fragonsturd, who nobody really liked.

In her life as the Battling Sorceress, she moved from place to place without ever really settling down. Such was the case with her comrades as well. Magic users rarely stayed in one place for long, as they were inherently prone to wandering. The feeling that the castle was giving her made her feel at peace. Made her feel grounded for the first time in her life. The castle on the mountain began to feel...like a home.

And so the years passed and the Sorceress and her colleagues continued to gather at the castle whenever they could. They would thrill at Sanjay the Splendid’s awe inspiring fire tricks. They would laugh at the merry antics of Kaldor the Krazy’s insane band of ice clowns. They even liked it when Fuckface of Fragonsturd gave birth to a dragon out of his nose. They didn’t like him, but damn was that amazing. Magic thrived in that castle, and the Sorceress’ feelings of peace spread throughout the entire community, and years and years past in wonderful, magical ecstasy.

Until the Hungry Humuncaloid showed up one Saturday night.

Now the Hungry Humuncaloid wasn’t evil, just Hungry, as his name would suggest. He ate people, rocks, trees, fairies, pumpkins, cars, cars 2, and even magic users. The Sorceress had battled him many times in the past, and as she watched him trounce through the gates she knew the time had come to fight him again. He was here, and he was hungry. The innocent people of the land began to scream all around her, and she knew she had to protect them from harm.

Readying her bretheren around her, she began throwing spells at the Hungry Humuncaloid with a furious force. Jelda the Jolly apparated behind him and countered her curses. Sanjay the Splendid shot fire from his eyeballs and Brent Cox pulled a bolt of lightning from the sky and launched it at his ferocious face. Every time the Hungry Humuncaloid went to munch members of their audience, the magical brethern denied him. Separately they were beatable. Together, nothing could stop them. As the magical battle reached it’s height, Fuckface of Fragonsturd launched himself high in the air, raised his staff, and made ready to bring it right down on the Hungry Humuncaloid’s huge head.

Except the Hungry Humncaloid pulled himself away at the last second, and Fuckface’s insanely powerful blow landed on the floor of the castle instead.

A mighty crack sprouted where the staff had hit, and suddenly all around them a rumbling filled the air. The Hungry Humuncaloid crapped his pants and bolted out through the gates. The magical brethern gathered and searched for where the unrest was coming from, and with a shudder the Battling Sorceress realized that the blow to the floor had caused the mountain to wake.

She launched herself into the air, flew out of the castle, she could fly by the way, and watched as the entire mass of the mountain rose from the floor of the land, turned its head, and looked right at her.

“Thanks for waking me up.” it said.

“I apologize. I didn’t know that you were one of those mountains that’s also alive.”

The mountain snickered at her. “What’s this damn thing on my back?”

“That’s the castle of my magical brethern.” she answered.

“Well I don’t like it. It makes me feel like fuckin Quasimodo or some shit. Get it off me.”

“I can’t...” she pleaded. “It’s...it’s our home.”

“I don’t give a rat crap. Get it off me, or I’ll do a pushup and get rid of it myself.”

And with that he went back to sleep.

The sorceress knew she needed to obey. Inside her mind she raged against this asshole of a mountain, but it was to no avail. If a mountain wanted something done, it had to be done. Everybody knows that.

So piece by piece, the battling sorceress and her bretheren dismantled their castle, and when the foundations were finally fettered, they left the mountain and made for the woods.

The sorceress was more sad than she had ever been in her life. The one place in the world she called home was gone. She sat and sulked, with her bretheren around her, and started to cry for the first time in her existence.

Seeing her tears, Harphorse the Galvanized conjured a handkerchief out of the air and handed it to her.

“You call that a handerchief?” Brent Cox said to him, and conjured one himself, this one the size of a bedsheet. “Now that’s a handkerchief.”

“The hell it is!” said Sanjay the Splendid, as he conjured an even larger one, made of pure silver, that turned tears into money.

“Yeah, well how’s about THIS!” Fuckface of Fragonsturd said, and started shooting handherchiefs out of his ass by the hundreds.

Handkerchiefs turned to firebats, and firebats to waterchickens, and waterchickens to sabergirls, to silverbows, to flowergiants, to candycaves, to glorywands, to mushroomkings, to gippyclovers and soon enough the woods were alive with a magic so powerful that the trees themselves drew up their roots and began to dance for the first time in seventeen centuries.

The sorceress watched them all with a whispering wonder. Her tears of sadness turned to tears of joy. She smiled to herself as she finally realized that in the end, it wasn’t the castle that was so important -
it was the people.

The castle was gone, but the people survived.
The castle was gone, but the friendships lived on.
The castle was gone, but the magic remained.

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