But amid all the perfect silliness resides some serious—and seriously good—stuff. This play is about identity, and the story’s told on a number of levels. There’s a human playing a chicken, a man playing a kid, a girl playing a boy, a guy playing a grandma, and a woman playing a spider, a fetus, and sundry other characters. Elliot and Emory have a relationship too sexual for young boys, and it becomes even more confounding when the two play house, in what is the production’s most poignant scene. Emory is wife, Elliot husband, Emory telling Elliot she (he?) is pregnant while Elliot swills a beer and watches his stories. Pantoja and Jabaily slip subtly into their new roles, and you forget that you’re watching two boys—really a man playing a kid and a girl playing a boy—play a husband and wife. Everyone’s identities swirl together; the barnyard part of the set is dimmed and only the “house” remains. It’s a scene that’s simultaneously confusing yet simple, disturbing yet oddly beautiful, and when Nanna’s voice jerks the boys—and the audience—back into the reality of the farm, you’re sad to see it end.