Recommended by Scott Sickles

Finally, someone has given us the inevitable mashup of Stephen King body horror and Rowan and Martin's Laugh-In. One man is going through a terrifying transformation and the other can't stop making one-liners about it! Claudia Haas had fashioned something truly bizarre and groaningly funny!

The spectrum of sexuality is vast throughout humanity and throughout the subset of gay sports fans.

Lee Lawing has added some extra gay to sports enthusiasm which may or may not be compatible with one's priorities. Sometimes "gay" and "sports" overlap and other times...

ZOOM EXPOSURE is a raucus, sexy, funny look at what happens when interests and intentions collide with desire. Amidst the mayhem there is longing and frustration giving weight to the ribaldry.

It's very much a play for our Zoom-dependent times but one I believe will survive the pandemic as a kinky nostalgia piece. Batter up...

A festival of tropes and a whirlwind of clichés artfully put together in a fast paced comedy of peril and passion! Weaver mastfully, well, weaves familair phrases together, spoken by two archtypical characters with personalities all thier own, and creates something wonderful and unique. The laughs come at 32ft/second(squared) and you can’t help but want the pursuit to go on!

A heavy scenario delivered with a miraculously light touch. Lawing's appealing characters provide a whimsical tone to the Twilight-Zone-worthy proceedings: the humans are blithely unaware of the magnitude of their situation and their captor, a whale, is quite a friendly bureaucrat. The off-stage whisperings of the whales and the diplomatic dissemination of information provides a tinge of menace. Ultimately, there's a powerful statement about the need for human connection and empathy and the price of how effortlessly we avoid it.

The humor goes back and forth between wincingly familiar and laugh out loud, with a couple tears-streaming-down-face moments of abject hilarity.

In addition to being breathtakingly funny (at times literally so), there’s a great core of family history here, sometimes revealed in the smallest moments. The clash between the old fashioned and the contemporary surfaces in surprising ways, through behaviors, attitudes, and art.

Great roles for two women, MATINEE would be a treasure to any line-up of short plays. (I almost said “to any evening” but I just couldn’t do it. This play deserves better.)...

It’s amazing how terrifying a story can turn the moment a helpful person mentions God. LETTER is a one-page ride in a house of horrors, revealing a disturbing narrative (that spans decades!) in delicate layers. Its matter-of-fact, almost earnest tone only heightens the disturbing history and the present threat.

I just watched Miranda Jonte's Back Porch Theater presentation in which she performs the piece twice! The first time was a more contemplative and measured read, fragile yet cautious. The second read was sans pauses, more urgent and direct but will all the requisite yearning and heart.

It worked beautifully both ways, and is open to at least any many interpretations as there are actors willing to dive into it.

Weaver asks questions many of us want to confront the person who took our esteem for granted. The emotions are naked, even embarrassing, and always raw and real.

Alphas and Omegas.

Not every beginning is an end but every end is somehow a new beginning. Jonte gives us both in this dyptych of scenes with a sister, her brother, and his boyfriend at very different stages of their relationships, showing us how a couple's ups and downs affect everyone they love.

While only there people are on stage, their families are a strong presence. Truths are revealed and alliances shift despite everyone loving everyone else.

The play is as deceptively deep and delicious as its titular pie. (We classier lowlifes call it "ambrosia salad.") Grab a spoon!

Wonderfully twisted, laugh out loud funny, and at times blissfully kinky, this pitch black send up of museum tours is a wicked joy. I’d especially love to see it with the “helpers” pantomiming the narration like flight attendants for the Marquis de Sade. Busser’s tone is as pitch perfect as the inevitable screams from the museum itself.

Some wounds never heal.
Some transgressions defy forgiveness.
And when one has stolen the skittles, well... there’s no coming back from that and your reasons do not matter!

Miller gives us a hilarious look at an unforgiving family that refuses to let go. It’s a testament to the power estranged and abandoned people must find in themselves when their most important bridges have burned. Though for some, the pettiness is all!