So…I get this flyer in the mail that has an near-nekkid man running his fingers through his hair in the mail. Skeptical, I accept that this is a flyer may in fact be for an upcoming theatrical production. Without flippin’ the card, I first notice the playwright: Rod Serling. "SWEET!" I exclaim. Mr. Twilight Zone is giving us a play that’s going to be about, like, aliens and telekinetic freaky kids and shit. He wrote a PLAY!?!? This is gotta be geek paradise. I felt duty bound as an actor to see this work. "Maybe this ‘Heavyweight’ for which it is titled will be crawling around on the wing of a plane, or some shit. Maybe a freaked out passenger will see this totemistic and frightening demon ripping out parts of the fuselage." Oooooo, do you want to see something REALLY scary?!?!?!?! Remember that line? Scared the pants off of me it did.

Then I flipped the card over and found out it was actually about a down-on-his-luck boxer who’s past his prime. WTF? What kind of false advertising is this? Boy, was I fooled. Then I thought "Maybe the boxer makes a deal with the devil or some shit and then fools the Devil into not taking his soul during the last few moments of the play?"

No? You probably think that I'm setting myself up for disappointment then, eh? And you nay sayer's are going to tell me next that there's probably nary even a butt-f#cking alien midget in the entire production. Harrumph, I say to you naysayers...

You shoulda seen how pissed off I was when I found out "Foxfire" wasn’t the same as the 1982 Clint Eastwood action thriller about a guy who can control a plane with his brain. It was about old people and shit. Although there was a ghost. Ghost's are cool. And seemingly more Serling-esque.

Seriously. How cool of a play would that be? Sssshshrrrroooom! Vrrrroooom! It’d be GOLDEN!


And can I get some poor bastard to undertake directing "A Fish Called Wanda" so that I can play frassin’ Otto? That’d be cooooool.