The laughs worth the journey
Zach Cooley (left) poses with comedian Lucas Bohn after his Feb. 7 Millwald Theatre performance.
February 7th was one of the darkest and bitterly coldest nights of the year. I won’t recount the difficulty I faced getting to the Millwald Theatre as a person with a disability under those conditions. I will simply say that seeing comedian Lucas Bohn made every bit of it worthwhile. A native of the D.C. side of Virginia, Bohn is a former fifth-grade teacher who credits his students for much of the material that helped turn him into a nationally touring comedian. Over the years, he has shared the stage with the likes of Jimmy Fallon, Dave Chappelle, and Kevin Hart—and he brought visual aids to prove exactly where his comedy began.
In one cause-and-effect exercise, the cause reads: “Jimmy wants a new bike, but his parents won’t buy him one.” The student’s written effect: “He will ask his grandparents and get a bike.” When asked to support the claim with evidence, the student writes, “Grandparents love him more.” In another example, when the effect reads, “Jane has five brothers and two sisters,” the student identifies the cause as, “Jane’s mom needs a new hobby.”
Bohn also demonstrated how much he can learn about a student he’s never met simply by reading a word-association worksheet.
“I know this kid goes deer hunting with his dad, likes NASCAR, and knows how to use a duck call,” he said after reading the words “green frog, blue lake, red Solo cup.” “I’m surprised he didn’t write ‘Git-R-Done’ underneath.”
Among my other favorite student responses were: “My mom looks beautiful when… that man comes over and she gives us melatonin.” When asked how to make a marriage work, one fifth-grade boy wrote, “Tell your wife she’s beautiful even if she looks like a dump truck.”
“There is nothing more I can teach that boy,” Bohn deadpanned. “He is way ahead of the game.”
The slideshow that accompanied his 97-minute act only amplified the laughter, complementing his razor-sharp wit, neighborly Southern accent, and uncanny ability to perform a range of character voices with startling precision. His trio of toddler-aged nephews apparently attest to his talent by catering to his every whim—provided he makes the request in his best “Elmo” voice.
“Do you want to get Elmo a beer?” Bohn implores. “Yay! You got Elmo a beer! Elmo loves you!”
That voice, however, does not translate well when calling into radio stations with rap DJs.
“They will cuss you out and hang up on you at the same time,” he reported.
Entitled Lesson Plans to Late Night, the show offered the Wytheville audience—made up largely of local teachers thanks to generous sponsorship from the Wythe Bland Foundation—a heartfelt and hilarious look at Bohn’s journey from public schoolteacher to comedy sensation.
Bohn also spoke candidly about adopting two Black children and the ignorant questions he sometimes encounters. While playing in the park with his daughter Ella, one woman asked how the child would know to come to him, given that they were of different races. Bohn replied that he simply used the opening African chant from The Lion King to call her. Ella came running, and Bohn lifted her high, just as Rafiki held up Simba on the edge of Pride Rock.
“I had no idea,” the woman replied.
Lucas and his wife of 17 years, Christy—a first-grade special education teacher in Loudoun County—later adopted a second child, Alexander, whose birth mother and father are both well over six feet tall. Alexander is also Black.
“I’m just happy to finally have someone in the family who can dunk,” Bohn joked.
During the second half of the act, Bohn pointed out how comedy often writes itself. A street sign reading “Senior Citizen Center,” posted next to a cemetery, provided ample opportunity for comedic adjustment. Another sign read, “Everything happens for a reason. Sometimes the reason is you’re stupid and make bad decisions.”
A store sign in Little Rock, Arkansas advertised: “We have all your school supply needs. Miller 12-pack, $7.99.”
“You will graduate with a 4.0 blood alcohol level,” Bohn reassured.
A Walmart pharmacy sign in West Virginia read: “Compare and save: Trojan condoms $3.79, Huggies diapers $22.”
“They’re trying to help you out by doing God’s work,” Bohn observed. “They did the math—and they showed their work.”
Bohn also chastised Hollywood for endlessly remaking ’80s and ’90s blockbusters with improved effects without ever asking audiences which films should actually be remade. His proposal: remake the original Star Wars trilogy using actors from classic ’90s movies and television. What followed was a hilarious montage of reenacted scenes. Adam Sandler’s character from The Waterboy would play Luke Skywalker. Princess Leia would be portrayed by Fran Drescher.
CGI would resurrect Chris Farley—specifically from the iconic “van down by the river” Saturday Night Live sketch—to play Yoda. Matthew McConaughey would play C-3PO. Eddie Murphy would portray Lando Calrissian, with Mike Myers making a cameo as Shrek, yelling at Donkey to get out of there. Finally, Al Pacino would take on Darth Vader during the iconic “I am your father” scene. This exchange truly has to be seen to be fully appreciated. It was an evening I will always remember, and I hope Lucas Bohn returns to the Millwald soon.
