Greetings and salutations. I’m Mike Pence, the Vice President of the United States of America. You probably know me from such things as standing behind Donald Trump with a deranged look on my face and reminding anyone within earshot that I’m a good Christian. But it’s all a lie.

You see, the man you know as “Mike Pence” doesn’t actually exist. I’m just a guy who never got tapped out of an improv scene from 1979.

Allow me to explain.

I used to be a pretty cool dude back at Hanover College. I was fun, I was well-liked, I was pretty much the opposite of everything you know me to be today. But at some point, I realized there was a gaping hole in my life, a spiritual void that needed to be filled. I decided then and there to give improv a try.

I enrolled in Improv 101 with high spirits. I knew that even if this theater-kid mumbo jumbo didn’t bring me fulfillment, it would at least bolster my pickup game with the cougars who frequented the local college bars (I’ve always been a mom guy).

Things started out innocently enough: I was improvising as the owner of a cheese shop, the mood was light, and everyone was laughing and having a good time. But during the next scene, things took a turn for the worse. I was right in the middle of improvising as a religious cult leader when a bolt of lightning struck the theater, igniting a raging fire that incinerated every other person in my class.

That's right—there is no one left alive to tag me out of this improv scene. I’m forever stuck improvising as the character you now know as Mike Pence.

Remember that time Trump inexplicably set his water bottle on the ground during a meeting and I followed suit? That was just me trying to uphold the sacred code of “Yes, and…”

Remember that time I referred to Karen as “mother?” My feeble attempt at a scene change.

Remember when I said that smoking doesn’t kill? Or when I referenced Disney’s Mulan as evidence that women shouldn’t serve in the military? I was literally just spouting off the most batshit crazy statements I could come up with on the fly. It’s a miracle no one has put it together that “Mike Pence” is actually just a two-dimensional stereotype played by someone with little to no improv experience.

I really have no idea what I’m doing. I mean, I don’t even know how my character is supposed to talk to women, so I just stopped interacting with them altogether. That’s the level of improv talent I’m working with, and not only has no one found me out, but I’ve managed to become the second-in-command of the world’s most powerful nation. Can you imagine how far someone could go who’s actually good at making things up on the fly? Oh, that’s right.

At this point, you’re surely asking yourself why I don’t just break character and leave behind this life of lies. But what if DaVinci had given up on the Mona Lisa in the final hour? What if Dante had thrown in the towel at the Eighth Circle? What if the Chinese restaurant episode of Seinfeld had never made the air? Don’t you see? This disturbing existence has become my purpose, and I must persist.

The next time you see me on television, barely acting like a human, just remember that I’m basing this entire performance on 25 minutes of Improv 101 training.

Go easy on ol’ Mikey baby.

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