Today was the penultimate Readers’ Theater session before summer break. One more to go (in June). Tonights plays were all based on telephone conversations. The first one, which required all in attendance to participate and even double up in some instances, was the radio drama that got made into the movie “Sorry, Wrong Number”. Basically the plot boils down to [spoiler alert, if anyone cares]:

Old Lady: I just overheard someone planning a murder!
Telephone Operators 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, and Police Sergeant: Yeah. Sure.
Old Lady: *strangled*

The others were all more modern, and short (less than 10 minutes each). They were also amusing. Even the “suspense” ones were funny most of the way through.

In addition to “Sorry, Wrong Number”, I ended up participating in two others, both two person skits. The first was a “discussion” between a guy wanting to buy tickets and another guy trying to sell the tickets. Turns out they knew each other. Honestly, nothing all that interesting. To me it was just another bizarre-place-to-run-across-someone-you-know story.

The second was one of those annoying-operator-in-a-time-of-crisis stories. At least that’s what it started out to be. I’d volunteered to read the part of the operator. We were getting into it, and things were flowing nicely. About two thirds of the way through, however, and I discover the operator was supposed to be played by a woman. Oops.

So I figured, “What the hell.” I changed a couple of things on the fly, added a little improv, dropped a line or two, and voila: My name was George the telephone operator, and I was talking about my cheating husband, who was cheating with That Bastard, Brian. And I was complaining to this poor guy who was trying to get the number of a psychiatrist because his wife is psychotic.

Many compliments were given for changing the script on the fly to match my character. Though I still think I should have given him a Boston accent. Oh well. The trials and tribulations of a cold reading.