How Lucky Am I? I Saw Our Collegiate Musical Crossed, Drunk, and High!

What fun times, what fun times! Intoxication and rhymes! 

Three showings, three nights; each with brand-new delights! 

For each show was the same, but I had a game, which started with one common name: Miller-Lite.

Quenching my thirst on the first, to the performance center I traversed; ready to be utterly immersed. 

As I sat at my station, enthralled in narration, I came to a stark realization:

My oh My, like the apple of my eye, all norms the cast seemed to defy! 

How could it be, that a group so carefree, could each inflict upon me (and I mean no hyperbole), such a feeling of gender envy?

The show did inspire, caused me to inquire, plan and conspire, for a great work of satire.

I’d see it again, perhaps with some friends and attend each night of the weekend, with a new substance for my mind to suspend and transcend!

So for the second night of guffaws, I sucked as if from a straw, a most brilliant puff of the za.

Au-revior and a skip, to the theater a trip, having had a good rip; I exercised my partisanship. 

To not slip on the colors that whipped took a grip; upon the scene with a hunch, my mind sought to munch, but I thought not to crunch (to be a good member of the bunch).

The room much did swirl, as on the stage they might twirl, I was trying my best not to hurl.

My memory a gap, as the weed much did sap, any yaps, claps, or raps from the show in my thinking cap — I needed a nap.

Upon the third night I did fight, for a drink and a light, to see that I’d arrive alright.

For it’s no simple task, rather much of an ask, to last through a night full of laughs off the flask and the gas— just to sit and bask.

Although the tale I will spin off a whim, I must tell you it’s grim; for reader, this is where the tale truly begins.

I approached the ticket kiosk soft-spoke, they made note to scan and make light. I sought not to encroach, but began to take flight, to the refuge of my seat. Upright and relaxed, I hummed to the beat, vision blurred but mind untaxed. A true playwright's show I did witness, with feats of catlike, nimble fitness; dancers that ebbed and flowed like a river below. I say right now as is my business, truly, a Spectacle like on Christmas, a musical so true and whimsical, it was almost a pharmaceutical bestow. Too-fickle was my spy, to know the rhythmical, mystical design. Not analytical was I, not in this state of mind, to trace the elliptical rays of movements so atypical. 

So, with this final stroke, I recount and evoke, each time I did rhyme in this final goodbye. So now do I write of my plight, each evening the show did beseech, in all but two acts and climax, allowed only by the quickness and slickness, of the ostinato, piccolo, and cameo; how loose it did go, with players too-inspired to mire the thoughts of one such as I, so I bid you all a jolly-good show.

Review: Yeah, the musical was pretty good I guess.