"Dear Everyone,
On the advice of my attorney, Tom King Clear, I will not use names in the following heartbreaking narrative.
After our first rehearsal of our new theatre collective, THE THEATRE, one of the ensemble members came up to me with a face like a thundercloud.
"Cleetus, " she seethed, in a seething kind of voice, "I can't believe we just spent seven hours doing theater games..."
"I know!" I chortled. "Wasn't it great? No one has ever committed this fully to a production of Arsenic and Old Lace."
"Exactly. It was insane. Four of us are going to quit the collective and form our own, THE NEW THEATRE."
I writhed. I gnashed my teeth. Was this how Bertolt Brecht was treated? Shakespeare? The guy who wrote RENT, before he died?
Stay tuned!
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