incorrigible

Ready for a long-ish story? all right, kiddies, settle in and let auntie Kate tell you the story of Rich Fulcher. (Rich, if you are reading this, please contact me!) Once upon a time, in a land called chicago, two of my friends lived in an apartment on webster ave. I spent most of my time there. They were constantly recieving threatening mail (from the IRS, mostly) addressed to Rich Fulcher. After a time, we committed a federal crime by opening said mail. It was at this point in 1994 we started making up stories about our "friend" Rich Fulcher, International Man of Mystery. We talked about his trips to Brazil, his art collection, his murder sprees, as if they were not just the fabrication of 3 (hot) college girls. In late 1995, my friend Denise was at a Second City show, backstage. Someone referred to someone or something happened that led Miss Denise to discover she was sitting next to, none other than, RICH FULCHER. I think he might have been a little put off when Denise yelled "The IRS is looking for you!!!" But being a good actor/improv-er/writer/comedian, he continued talking with her. What a sense of humor on that guy! We decide to throw him a dinner party at the apartment on webster, where he had lived before Denise and Emily. We dressed up and told faboo tales of the International Man of Mystery all night. He must have really thought we lost our minds. We didn't really keep up after that, in Chicago, but when Denise and I moved to LA, who should we run into at The White Horse one night but RICH FULCHER. Not really shocking but still, a bit small world. Occassionally hearing his name bandied about by the improv gang i sometimes hang with was the extent of our contact for years.
Last Wednesday I recieved something in the mail addressed to Rich Fulcher.
It was from lawyers (yes, i opened it!) talking about his immigration to the UK. 2 google-slaps, and 1 phone call to denise later, we find out that OUR Rich Fulcher has a show on the BBC. I got OUR Rich Fulcher's mail.
WHY??????????????????????????
I emailed the production company he works for, but haven't heard back.
How fucked up is that?
THE END
Now go to bed, ya damn kids.