There are certain plays from the Heroic Opera that are comical to be sure, but what truly amused the crowd gathering in the street on this hot summer afternoon was one lone acrobat attempting to play an entire cast by his self.
Deftly propelling himself from the ground with legs the size of small tree trunks, the man back-flipped and landed ten feet from his original position, bouncing energetically on the balls of his feet.  Holding a fan in front of his face all the while, he proceeded to walk back across his makeshift stage.  Upon the fan was painted the face of a young, beautiful woman, whose voice emitted from unmoving lips.
“Oh my, but isn’t this a surprise!”  The man exclaimed through the fan in a remarkably convincing falsetto.  “My dear Lord, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
The masked man suddenly somersaulting five feet forward, causing the crowd to gasp in surprise.  The man bounced up from his roll, still holding the fan in front of his face, but now showing a different visage: that of an older noble man.  “My fair maiden, you have no need to continue this act, for I have seen through your foul disguise!” the man cried in a deep booming voice.
Tossing the fan before him, the man cart-wheeled through the air without using his arms.  For the briefest glimpse, the audience could see the acrobat’s face, but in a flash of yellowing rice paper, it was covered once again by the portrait of the young woman.
“If you know me for what I am then you are a fool to come and face me!” the woman cried shrilly.  Turning horizontally on point, the acrobat executed a handstand, the breadth of which lasted but for a second before he was suddenly upright again, this time with a new fan in front of his face.  The image was that of a red-faced demon with crooked horns crowning its bald head.  “You cannot stand against my evil miasma and possibly hope to survive!”
The man’s form lined an arc in the air as he jumped from the demon’s position.  Barrel-rolling in mid air, the acrobat’s flight seemed to slow down so the audience could appreciate the quick twirling and sunlight glinting off his bare torso.  He landed on his hands, but instead of rolling to his feet as the crowd expected, he remained postured with his feet in the air.  As the audience’s eyes eventually traveled up from the man’s exposed face, they came to rest on his left foot which was now in possession of the fan with the lordling’s countenance revealed.  
As the man spoke in the masculine voice of the lord, the audience could hardly tell that it was the man speaking and not the very image itself.  Such was the acting skill of the young acrobat.
“Nay, foul demon.  I shall slay you here and now!  The citizens of this land will no longer fall victim to your treacherous ways!”  
What came next would make the crowd laugh to think of for days to come, though the play itself was supposed to be a story of morality and life lessons.
Reaching up with one hand the acrobat produced the second fan from his belt.  Balancing in this way, with one hand on the ground and a foot in the air clutching a fan, the man reached up with his free hand to give his first fan to his right foot.  Placing his hand beneath himself once again, the acrobat lowered his legs into a T position, spreading the two fictional foes as far apart as his body would permit.  
In the feminine yet decidedly demonic voice the man cried, “Have at thee, mortal!”  His right foot holding the demon-faced fan bobbed with the shout.
“Though you are a woman, I will show you no mercy!” cried the bobbing head of the noble.  
The young man then began what seemed more of a dance than a battle as he spun on his hands round and round, all the while kicking his legs up and about in the air.  Finally the young man spread his legs wide once more, showing the enemies facing one another.  Then in a quick motion he brought them together and passed each other, like the final fatal blows of dueling warriors.  
It was the demon’s fan the man let fall from his grasp.  It hit the dirt of the street, sending up a small cloud of dust that dispersed unceremoniously.
The audience was silent from the magnificent display of muscle control and balance, let alone from the dramatic ending of the play itself.  The man tossed the noble’s fan with his foot and launched himself into a standing position from which he caught the fan and bowed low.  
As the crowed cheered and clapped the man held out his fan to catch any coin the people would deem worthy of the performance.  What amazed some of the onlookers was that the man wasn’t even out of breath, though upon his brow they could detect a slight sheen of sweat.  True mastery of the performing arts to be sure, but why then was this man on the streets begging for money?
As coin spilled from his proffered fan to the ground he smiled widely and thanked his patrons.  Shining between the dulled copper and silver was but a lone gold coin.  Though this might dampen the spirits of normal street performers, the man remained smiling while petty change continued to pile up on his worn fan.