Rootbeer isn’t rootbeer. Or is it? Is it a product for consumption or is it mystery, conflict and revelation? Something’s can’t be understood with the mind but with the intestines. Rootbeer is involved with the answer but life isn’t that easy, is it? Ask the oldest person you know, and that person probably will not have teeth. That’s not their fault.
NIGHT OF THE ROOTBEER
Plot: The best twenty best friends meet up at a familiar decently-priced pizza parlor called the Firehouse where some serious drama unfolds…or doesn’t.. or even worse: ROOTBEER.
“A free show that makes you wish you’d payed real money to see a better show… an even slightly better show.. fuck…”
“Night of the Rootbeer asks the question, ’what questions should be asked by the theatre and why should we care?”
“Who farted? Never mind it was the show.”
“Night of the Rootbeer doth strive and merrily succeeds in its trite irrelevance.”
“It will inspire you to get off your ass and write something better because yes, even YOU can write something better than Night of the Rootbeer”
- Amy Sherman-Pelladildo