The moment every inch of pinchable skin on Jeffrey Freer’s naked body had gotten clipped with a clothespin and he stood on stage screaming in delight and pain, spraying his crotch with red Silly String, I knew my past-bedtime sojourn to Bizarre Bar on Wednesday night was not in vain. This was Circus of Dreams, the ongoing, monthly production of House of Screwball (“Events for the Others”).

I had never been to one of these things, but the language on the flyer got to me: “We’re back with the November installment of our whackadoodle love fest once described by an innocent first-timer as ‘pure anarchy’… or something like that.” Plus a slate of performers with titles like “Masked WTF Performance Artist,” “Creepy Doll Collector,” and “Rage Witch.” I began to think there was not anything on Earth I’d rather do on a Wednesday night than be in the company of these people.