Attack of the Puppet People

But that's just for starters. Orr devotes a lot of time to daydreaming, in the course of which he has, in his mind at least, booked the company for the next five or ten years with local shows, regional festivals, a West Coast tour. Orr, along with Dennis Clay, has one main project on his agenda: to get a permanent home and start a puppetry center, where Bobbindoctrin can diversify its productions, work on full-length shows and children's shows and bring touring puppet shows to Houston. Dennis, who works in the film industry as a key grip, envisions the center as a dream retirement setting, where he could spend all day tinkering in a puppetry workshop. Meanwhile, they're working on their application for nonprofit status.

If, in the meantime, the novelty of Bobbindoctrin wears off, so much the better. Audiences will come to expect more just as Bobbindoctrin learns to deliver more. "It's really just an inexhaustible medium," Orr says. "It's definitely a lifetime learning process." The very fact that the word Bobbindoctrin is ambiguous, he says, reflects the fact that puppetry is something he doesn't fully understand. "I would get bored if it weren't a constant exploration."

Out in the shed, Orr points out his "dream puppet," one a Doctrineer built for him after he described the concept. It's a large one, hulking and chalky white, designed to be used without a stage. It sits on its puppeteer's shoulders and points a puppet gun at his head. A puppet hijacker -- Orr loves this idea. Clearly, this man won't be satisfied when puppets are the headlining act. In his daily reveries, this is what Orr really thinks about: puppet terrorists demanding puppet freedom. A puppet revolution.