Improvedy, the new improv-comedy troupe, were held. I could tell right off the bat that Kyle What’s-His-Last-Name would make a great addition, and attempted to befriend him by making a stupid joke that ensured his loathing of me for the next year. Also not helping that matter was the fact that Kyle didn’t make the troupe for the sole reason of being a freshman.

We finally got off on the right foot in my junior year when our small friend bases collided during lunch hour, forming a tightly-knit table of outcasts. Especially after we dealt with our shock on 9/11 by cracking jokes about dressing up as airplanes at the New York-themed Homecoming dance; that was a turning point in our relationship.

Our friendship was cemented one night after an Improvedy rehearsal, when Kyle needed a ride and I offered one of my mom’s behalf. As we waited for her to pull up, Kyle got to talking about some event that had transpired on the previous night’s edition of WWF Monday Night Raw. We got to talking about wrestling, and within a minute I was telling him about a tape of infamous Japanese death matches I had recently ordered online. I described the sight of a 400-pound man doing a backflip from five feet in the air onto another man lying sandwiched between two sheets of wood wrapped in barbed wire, and Kyle decided that this was indeed worth reviewing.

It was a Thursday early in May of my senior year, after an Improvedy rehearsal, when Kyle and I burst from the scene shop of our school’s theatre giggling like caffeinated schoolgirls. The first people we happened to encounter on our way to my car (A white 1993 Pontiac Sunbird, made in Canada so that the Mp/H and Kp/H were reversed, which I had christened the Starship Consolation-Prize) were my girlfriend Liz and our friend Ali. They had spent enough time around us to know that when Kyle and I giggled, something bad had happened.

“What did you do?” they asked us, genuinely exasperated.

Matt Perry
Happy Families
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