LIGHTS UP:
Theater: “Can I start you off with a farce?”
Playgoer: “I’m not seeing your Neil Simon.”
Theater: “No Simon. We’ve got vintage Ayckbourn. Our British sex farces have aged nicely. Or perhaps a Feiffer, a Durang, or a -”
Playgoer: “What happened to the Simon?”
Theater: “Couldn’t sell it. Took it off the menu.”
Playgoer: “Crap. Well, what do you recommend?”
Theater: “I like a Durang, but most people order an Ayckbourn.”
Playgoer: “Oh, God, no. No Durang. Last time I had a Durang, you don’t wanna know. Uh… Okay, I’ll have an Ayckbourn.”
Theater: “Would you like to see the dance menu?”
Playgoer: “I always get the Twyla Tharp.”
Theater: “Tharp it is.”
Playgoer: “Can I go ahead and order? I’ve got to be in bed by ten.”
Theater: “Absolutely.”
Playgoer: “See that woman?”
Theater: “Jimmy Choo or Manolo Blahnik?”
Playgoer: “Blahnik. What’s she having?”
Theater: “That’s a Martin McDonagh, but if you’re leaning in that direction today’s special is a brilliant twist on a McDonagh by a fresh face.”
Playgoer: “How’s it served?”
Theater: “On its own petard. Brantley sees promise.”
Playgoer: “Nah. I had a thing by a fresh face years ago. It was rotten. I can still taste it. I guess I’ll do the Shakespeare.”
Theater: “That comes with Ibsen and Chekov or Shaw and O’Neill.”
Playgoer: “What was that thing you had, like, five or six seasons ago?”
Theater: “You mean the Albee and Miller?”
Playgoer: “Yeah, can I get that?”
Theater: “No problem. Dessert?”
Playgoer: “Do you do an improv?”
Theater: “Hemorrhoid Guy Mistakenly Sees Female Dentist. It’s great.”
Playgoer: “Sold.”
Theater: “Coffee?”
Playgoer: “Decaf.”
THE END
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