Bad Kitten Improv

As I write this, it is Monday. By the time you read this, who knows? It may not even be 2014 anymore. You may be reading this as part of a survey course on the history of live comedy in what was formerly known as the United States that you're barely passing in 2155 AD at the University of Northern Mars, Blargstock campus. I certainly hope that's the case. The Blargstock campus, I'm sure, has the best History of Comedy department in a five planet radius.

Anyway, again, it is Monday. It is the 22nd day of the month. That month is September. Bad Kitten's Launchpad month. The month that the grand poobahs at the Philly Improv Theater allowed us to grace their stage every Wednesday at 7:30 PM. This coming Wednesday is the 24th. It is the last Wednesday of the month. It will be our final Launchpad show. At least that's what they say.

It's been a crazy ride. Bad Kitten (I'm one of them, the one you probably haven't met, the one you've probably seen only briefly and asked "who's that older, chubby dude hanging out with all my friends from Bad Kitten? why does he look so grumpy?") has been rehearsing twice a week, with two different directors. Two very different directors. At this point, we've got Improv notes coming into our brains from all angles and we have all begun leaking those notes out of our nipples. Meggles (who is a medical professional) assures us it isn't serious and that it will clear up on its own. I hope so. I've ruined several dress shirts and those are not cheap, even when I buy them at TJ Maxx. We've been swimming in a sea of Improv and it feels so good. None of us want it to end. In fact, we'd all do just about whatever it takes to continue our LaunchPad Improv ride. Whatever. It. Takes.

We're so grateful to PHIT for making us its inaugural LaunchPad team. It's been amazing. It's been amazing to get up on that stage and perform in front of a packed audience every week. Hell, it's been amazing just warming up in the Green Room, watching the House Teams sample the champagne and caviar that PHIT management provides for them at all of their shows. We are just so fucking grateful it hurts. It is this gratitude that makes what I'm about to say next so difficult. Because there is no doubt that PHIT has been good to us. But what must be done, must be done.

On Wednesday, after our triumphant "final" LaunchPad show, we will not be leaving. We, the Bad Kitten 7, will be locking ourselves in the PHIT Green Room and we will not be leaving. We refuse to cede our LaunchPad crown to Office Hours, though they all seem like very nice people and I personally know several of them to be top-notch improvisers. This is not personal. If they want our LaunchPad spot, they will have to pry it out of our cold, dead, adorable, furry hands.