By Clarissa Cruz
Updated April 23, 1999 at 04:00 AM EDT

If Samuel Beckett had grown up in South Park, he might have penned a play like this: Abandoned by Mummy and Daddy a decade ago, 28-year-old brother-and-sister twins Presley (Alex Draper) and Haley (Lynn Hawley) are hollow-eyed poster children for arrested development. Subsisting on various forms of chocolate and sleeping pills, the creepy and unattractively pale duo lead a whiny, childlike existence — that is, until Cosmo Disney (Alex Kilgore), a strutting cabaret performer, and his masked sidekick, Pitchfork Cavalier (Brandt Johnson), enter. What follows is a series of nightmarishly comic monologues, with characters relating their fears in horrifying detail. The surreal Pitchfork Disney, which aims to gross you out (with snake frying and onstage vomiting, among other things), has exactly four things going for it: the terrific actors, who manage to electrify a warped and long-winded script. B