A Million Little Warm Ups

I stand in a little room with the air conditioning running at something crazy like sixty five degrees. I’m cold but it’s good. I like it cold. It’ll get hot. My fingers are twitching and I remember I haven’t stretched my arms. I start.

Two minutes.

Thank you two.

I can hear the voices in the bathrooms on the other side of the wall and they’re just shooting the shit. They don’t know that I’m right here listening to them and I know how this is their first time here and they heard it was funny and they saw a review on Yelp or AccessAtlanta or Creative Loafing or something else and I’m just pointing my hands at the ceiling.

You guys wanna circle up?

We all nod. Agreement. That’s how it starts. Our hands are on each others’ shoulders and our breaths are all hot and together.

Let’s just support each other and just have a blast. I love you guys.

A few nods. It’s the same thing every time. Pavlov was right. My subconscious is salivating.

We throw our hands in the middle of the circle.


Our hands are up in the air and we all look each other with grins on our faces. Here it comes.

Ladies and gentleman, thanks for coming out on this Friday night. I now introduce you to your host, Ms. Kelly Thomas!

We’re dogs in a cage. Pacing. Finishing up our last mental warm ups. My tongue twists.

She slits sheets.

She’s a sheet slitter.

She’s the best sheet slitter that ever slit sheets.

A big round of applause for the players of AUTOMATIC IMPROV.

Someone opens the door and we run out to the crowd. It’s both dark and bright at the same time. Music roars in our ears as our hands slap theirs. High five. High five. High five. High five.

I’m on the stage. The crowd is gone. Lights instead.

It got hot.

I was wrong. This is how it starts.

This is what they see.

Tuesdays and Fridays at 8pm.



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