There are so many things in MilkMilk Lemonade that seem destined to fail and annoy—grown-ups playing fifth graders, a man playing a grandmother, a talking chicken as a main character, a narrator who gestures around the theater and says, "This is the set!" accompanied by sparkly harp zings. I found myself cringing at each of these early moments in the play and, each time, the cringe gave way to a bewildered surprise that bloomed into glee. It's that feeling you get when someone offers you a bite of food accompanied by the most bizarrely unappetizing description—your brain expects revulsion, you can almost taste it before the food hits your tongue... but then, what's this? God, this is fucking delicious! I am so glad you stuck that fork in my face! Washington Ensemble Theatre, I am thrilled you stuck this fork in my face.

On a minimal, mostly cardboard set, the five-person cast mesmerizes throughout this Seattle premiere of a script by Cornish alumnus Joshua Conkel. Gay fifth-grader Emory (Tim Smith-Stewart) lives on a farm with his terminally ill Nanna (Troy Mink). When he isn't choreographing dance routines with his best friend Linda, who happens to be a chicken (Kate Sumpter), he "plays house" with his pyromaniacal up-the-street neighbor Elliot (Noah Benezra). Instead of a quick-and-dirty you-show-me-yours, theirs is a wandering, precocious send-up of a tumultuous marriage. A character billed as "Lady in a Leotard" (Jennifer Pratt) explains at the outset that she'll serve as, among other things, a parasitic twin and Linda's interpreter.

Pitch-perfect direction by Montana von Fliss keeps it steady in a deliciously weird groove, even when the play occasionally wobbles toward mania. Though Conkel's script is spattered with pop-culture references, crude jokes, and Family Guy–style extended riffs (e.g, the chicken does standup), MilkMilk Lemonade maintains an old-school charm. There's something particularly winning about a guy in lipstick playing a believable grandma and a woman in orange tights successfully selling us on her chickenhood. MilkMilk Lemonade is why we go to theater: transformation, surprise, delight.