“Gutterplum,” which runs for two more performances Saturday at Union Hall in Brooklyn, can seem like a companion piece to “Nate,” which sends up unhinged femininity instead of toxic masculinity. This show has a linear narrative that follows the sweep of the life of one woman, Dale Ravioli , from childhood to old age. But the story is not what you are going to be talking about afterward. It’s the aggressively bizarre collection of moments, the flights of ridiculousness that you can’t believe you are seeing.

In no other show this year will you see an elderly character wearing a wig of pub ic hair at her crotch while playing air guitar or a younger one spider-walking topless while growling demonically. Did I mention this freak-out of a performance also happens to be a tender romance?

Early on in “Gutterplum,” whose title is never explained, Pauroso invites a man from the audience to play kick the can. This begins a series of vignettes tracing a relationship and the awakening of a sexual life in a few inventive gestures. There’s a scene portraying puberty that resembles nothing so much as the transformation of a person into a werewolf, but the monster this time is a party girl who parrots sentences like “I actually like the taste of beer” and “Don’t tell my dad.”

And yet, Pauroso doesn’t sneer at its central character. The comedy comes from the juxtaposition of the outrageous and vulgar physicality with jarring notes of sentimentality. After doing a strip tease, which skewers objectification while taking part in it, Pauroso sings a heartfelt ballad.