Playwright-performer Michael McKeever, who is himself a short subject, has a way with the theatrical short format.

His skill with character, comedy and brevity are well showcased in “The Whole Caboodle,” a compilation of seven choice playlets, roughly 10 minutes in length, written from 1998 to 2011, and first performed in City Theatre’s “Summer Shorts” and Naked Stage’s “24 Hour Theatre Project.”

On view now at Parade Productions, staged by the company’s artistic director Kim St. Leon, they collectively become a full evening of theater and a breezy retrospective of McKeever’s stylistic range, though most of the pieces reflect his sense of whimsy.

If there is a dominant theme, it is his responses to iconic works of art. The curtain raiser, “American Gothic,” depicts Grant Wood’s most famous painting of a stolid farm couple. The two characters not only come to life, but the woman (Elena Maria Garcia) walks off the canvas, eager to finally see the world. And with low-key, Midwestern practicality, the man (McKeever) tries to talk her into staying. The writing amuses without ever straining for a laugh.

The evening is, of course, focused on McKeever, but Garcia all but convinces us otherwise, for she overshadows the material whenever she is onstage. She is, quite simply, one of the funniest people on this planet — physically, facially and verbally — as well illustrated in a sketch called “Laura Keene Goes On.”

Keene is the mid-19th century’s reigning American theatrical diva, seen here poised to go on at Ford’s Theatre for her 1,000th performance of “Our American Cousin.” And wouldn’t you know it, her entrance is disrupted by the news that President Lincoln has been shot. Still, Garcia, a master of the controlled panic, shows how Keene remains determined that a little old assassination is not going to get in the way of her time in the spotlight.

The most touching sketch is “Move On, or Sondheim at Studio 54,” about a married couple given tickets to the musical “Sunday in the Park With George.” The husband (Clay Cartland) is in agony over the prospect of sitting through such arty fare, but when the song “Move On” is performed, he is reduced to uncontrollable sobs. McKeever does not avoid the opportunity to joke about the relationship between show tunes and gays, but at its heart, this is a lovely vignette about the transforming power of art.

The evening ends with “Splat!,” a take-off of “The Wizard of Oz” with a group of practical Munchkins — led by a cynical McKeever — trying to decide what to do with the Wicked Witch, now that that girl from Kansas has landed a house on top of her.

Of the other scenes, “Love Machine, Rusted,” about a couple whose ad for sexual swingers attracts a pair they cannot begin to handle, and “Knowing Best,” a mother-daughter sex talk with a twist, both amuse, but neither gets beyond the initial joke. And “Craven Tutwiler (The Real Life Story of)” is a too-long series of monologues by three women obsessed with the title character — played by McKeever, of course — a fugitive from the Dos Equis commercials.

The sets, credited to Bombshell Productions, are rolled on, creating location and atmosphere in a blink of the eye, not unlike “Summer Shorts.” The overall scenic concept lets us see into faux-dressing rooms as the actors prepare between scenes. The idea is intriguing, but as Shakespeare put it, “The play’s the thing,” and McKeever’s inventive writing needs no such adornment or distraction.