our creation myth
Once Upon a Time in a little made up village called Notecnirp, there lived a young man. A beautiful young man. A man by the name of Alex Something. This young man had it all: brains, heart, and just a dash of spunk. He had a family, a couple of close friends, and a pet.
But, Alex felt that something was missing. He was bored! He was stressed! He was hungry! So he began his hunt for life.
He joined an acapella group, but found that the best part about music was the instruments. He joined the newspaper, but was too depressed by the color of the paper. He joined a dance group, but threw out his hip whilst participating in a speedy contemp piece.
Disheartened, he slunk into the forest, wondering where in the world he could find his joy? His jois de viv? His gunderflawin?
Just then he stumbled upon a small group of squirrels, laughing and chortling and simply having a grand ol’ time.
“Kind squirrels,” said Alex. “What is it that makes you chortle so?”
“Why, it is improv comedy!” the first squirrel squeaked.
“It is the greatest gift of all!” proclaimed the second squirrel.
“My name is Alvin, and don’t call me a squirrel,” sang the last squirrel, who ended up being one of several hip, musically gifted chipmunks from 2007.
“Improv comedy. Yes. It’s perfect!”
Alex strode out of the forest and created the second ever improv group in all of Notecnirp. He would fill it with beauty, heart, and laughter, and it would be named after his most prized possession: his fuzzy dice.
Then he died, having outlived his purpose for this story.