The Anthropology of Improv (I of II)

"A hooker" comes a response from the right. "A snow plower" comes simultaneously from the left.

Jeff synthesizes this, "Okay, Valerie is a hooker, but Wayne thinks she's someone who plows snow. Continue."

I feel myself starting to blush.

Wayne says, "So, you must have to get up real early to plow all those drives, heh? What time do you get up, anyways?"

"Aw, I do most of my work at night, honey. That's when most of my business is. Every once in a while you get the odd one who wants to do mornings, but it's mostly night."

"Stop," says Jeff, "Suddenly there's a police car behind them. They pull over and the policeman comes over to the window. But the policeman has an unusual characteristic. What is that characteristic?"

"He's really effeminate," a voice emerges from the darkness.

When Jeff gives the signal to start again, there's no hesitation from Tommy who breaks from his curtained sanctuary to sashay over to the car. "License and registration," he lisps prettily to the audience's amusement. "Where are you two going at this time of night?"

Wayne answers, "well, she's a snow plower and you know she does most of her plowing at night."

"In the middle of May?" Tommy asks disbelievingly.

"Well," I say, "I'm giving Wayne some training and it takes time to build up expertise on the subject."

"Stop," Jeff calls again, "Tommy doesn't like something about them. What is it that Tommy doesn't like?"

"Old people," someone shouts (I was a little horrified at this, but Wayne flicked his hand out in mock insult).

Tommy says, "Listen old man, I'm going to give you a ticket for this."

Wayne replies in bewilderment, "For what? We weren't speeding officer."

Tommy says, "Exactly. You're driving way under the speed limit and you've had your left blinker on for the last ten miles."

"Stop" Jeff yells, "Valerie suddenly realizes she recognizes Tommy from somewhere. Where does she know him from?"

"He was her client last night."

I lift my left hand up to hide my face from Tommy. A look of recognition suddenly spreads across his face, "Hey, you plowed my drive last night!"

"I plowed it good, didn't I? Listen, you don't have to give us a ticket, there must be something I can do for you," I say, moving past Wayne (straining to get past the steering wheel).

"Hey, better be

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