Audience is seated and conversation is humming. The lights dim and Mr. Swinebottom walks on stage eagerly, holding his script. He is greeted with loud, vigorous applause and whistles. He smiles and pauses mid-stage for a moment, basking in the glow of the flattery. He catches himself and ducks behind the podium, arranging his script. Taking out his glasses, he unfolds them and perches them precisely on the edge of his nose. Clearing his throat, he clicks on his reading light and begins speaking.
“Good evening, ladies and gentleman, and welcome to another Reginald Swinebottom presents. I am your narrator, Mr. Swinebottom himself. Let’s begin tonight’s story, shall we? It all takes place, one late afternoon, on a most trying commute home from work…”
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