Upon Meeting in Person Someone for Whom One has Developed Considerable Affection after Corresponding with Him or Her for Quite Some Time on an Internet-Based Writers' Group
by Audie McCall
THE POET: Chris?
THE PLAYRIGHT: Hello.
THE POET: It's Cary.
THE PLAYRIGHT: Hello, Cary.
THE POET: From the site?
THE PLAYRIGHT: I-- from the site?
THE POET: WhimsicalBirdBath?
THE PLAYRIGHT: Holy moly!
THE POET: Yeah.
THE PLAYRIGHT: It's you!
THE POET: Yeah.
THE PLAYRIGHT: I adore you.
THE POET: Well, that's --
THE PLAYRIGHT (to everyone around): I adore this person!
THE POET: I'm glad that--
THE PLAYRIGHT: You look nothing like I imagined.
THE POET: Well, that's--
THE PLAYRIGHT: I imagined you more . . .
THE POET: What?
THE PLAYRIGHT: Brilliant looking.
THE POET: Really?
THE PLAYRIGHT: I feel like we've climbed out of some beautiful box all the sudden.
THE POET: That's one way of looking at it. I guess.
THE PLAYRIGHT: How do we get back in?
THE POET: I have no idea.
THE PLAYRIGHT: Well. . . . I'll always love the false image I had of you.
THE POET: I think I've read that line somewhere before, on a wall or something.
THE PLAYRIGHT: So I'm not original?
THE POET: Would it kill you if you weren't?
THE PLAYRIGHT: Doubtful.
THE POET: Wanna get a beer?
THE PLAYRIGHT: Is the Pope a Nazi?
THE POET: I have no idea.
(Off they go, holding hands like George W. Bush and Crown Prince Abdullah.
End of play.)