What was the first time that I felt funny?

Great question, I would love to tell you.

When I was in high school, there was a group of students that started a secret improv club,

and calling this club exclusive would be the understatement of the century.

On a plane of cool and uncool, this club found itself on every end.

This improv group was basically a fight club.

The only rule was that you don't talk about it.

This is something you just become a part of slowly and unknowingly over a very long span

of time.

So slowly, in fact, that when I found myself at an evening of improv with this magical

group of people, I felt a lot of things, mostly fear.

See, I was driven to a house that belonged to my friend's friend, and before I knew it,

I was standing on a makeshift stage that this group built in some backyard, and it was

covered in thrifted rugs and blankets.

But the thing that surprised me the most in this backyard were the 50 folding chairs,

just set up facing the stage.

Why did we need 50 folding chairs set up at an improv rehearsal with a couple of friends

in someone's backyard?

What information do I not have that literally every other person in this backyard has?

So I ask how many people are in this group, and a friend's friend says six.

And I say, does that include the 50 other people in this group?

The ones that will be sitting in these chairs because surely we will not be performing for

...