By Comedic Storyteller Onicia Muller
We were going to see my professor’s play because I wanted to experience their writing skillz. Like, how dare they take thousands of my dollars and judge my writing when they low key ain’t all that good?
The worst part of seeing a play is resisting urges to uncross your legs. Theatre snobs don’t care about your leg cramps. Who send you to sit so?!
Ever put real thought into the saying: “Those who can’t do, teach.”? Why am I paying you if you can’t do the thing I want to do? That’s like paying your parents to love and validate you – they are incapable! No matter what you accomplish, they’ll always bring up your rival’s success during your weekend phone calls.
Unfortunately, I got my period like one hour before the show. Although I was known to have very violent symptoms, we went, because we’d already purchased tickets and this was my one chance to judge my judge.
The plan was to sit at the aisle near an exit and quietly step out if I needed to. When we arrived at the storefront theatre for ants, we noticed the seating formed a circle around the performance area. Exiting at any time definitely meant disturbing the show.
I opened the playbill and – NO INTERMISSION! Was this a torture experiment? The break is peoples’ chance to dip on bad shows.
Perfect. I spotted a handy trash bin to utilize should things go left.
Things hit a hard left as soon as the show started. I unbuttoned my pants and tried to manage my cramps by breathing like I’m a Burger King employee blowing on a blazing hot bowl of ramen so I can finish it during my 5-millisecond break. (#FightFor15)
I sweated like I was halfway through two consecutive SoulCycle classes. It's mOrE thAn A wOrk OUt - It's An ExpErIEncE. A near-death experience!
My bra was tight, so I did that bra-removal trick girls do. Then, with purse lap, I reached underneath my shirt and slid my bra into it. #LadyMacGyver
About thirty minutes into the play, my saliva increased; I’m about to puke. They are going to stop the show regardless if I puked in the trash or dashed through the stage to get to the restroom. Decision: Swallow the bile or fill my cheeks?
Swallowing pre-puke might defuse the puke bomb. Most likely, though, I’d just projectile vomit all over the person in front of me. #Classy
I grow woozier as my cheeks went full chipmunk. As I turned to the trash to let my belly’s bile escape my lips, an actor retrieves a secret prop from the bin. Whaaat?!
So stunned, I did the unthinkable and I SWALLOWED MY VOMIT. I passed out. The play ended and I later puked on the taxi ride home.
Shout out to me, myself, and I for powering through that play like a champion. I’m da real NVP.
Award-winning Caribbean comedian Onicia Muller regrets leaving St. Maarten for windy Chicago. Her weekly humour column, Just Being Funny, is chicken soup for the naive sceptic’s soul. Join her newsletter for funny stories and stand-up comedy: OniciaMuller.com/JBF