fall for each other and marry. Then Kate, who listens to Marc's show from her increasingly unhappy home in Providence, learns that she has become a published author. That's right: Her husband has rescued from the garbage the stories she has written and thrown away, sending them to his brother, who edits a paper called The Peoria Agitator. In those pages, Kate has unwittingly had a column for some time. She's even been syndicated and received a book offer thanks to Tom's good-little-elf forgery. Now, Kate is sort of horrified by this; she never meant for anyone to like her work (or her, apparently) for any reason. One of the funniest lines of the play comes when Tom asks her, "Do you know what keeps me from killingyou?" We erupt in relieved laughter that someone onstage is as exasperated with the show's protagonist as we are.

Thereafter, Worm Day becomes a diluted stage version of the Tom Hanks-Meg Ryan movie Sleepless in Seattle, as Tom and Kate's marriage comes apart and Marc's bond with Erica frays as well. (Another funnier-than-intended line is Tom's accusation of Kate: "I think you love those worms more than you love me!") As Kate's book becomes more popular, she meets her radio beau Marc on the inevitable book tour and the heavens light up with twinkling approval of their affection for each other.

Will Swenson and Penelope Gioris
(Photo: Carol Rosegg)
The play has some valid points to make about compromise, devotion, and derangement, but they aren't well realized. Kelly AuCoin as Tom delivers