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Welcome to the Official Chris Conidis Website.
Explore Chris Conidis’s latest short stories and screenplays.
Chris Conidis is a versatile artist, writer, author and performer celebrated for his inventive blend of improv comedy, horror, fantasy, parody, and satire. A proud UCB and City alumnus, he brings a sharp, distinctive voice to everything he creates, captivating audiences with his clever wit and imaginative storytelling.
Chris Conidis – Writer, Filmmaker, Improv Performer Official Website
Chris Conidis is a versatile writer, filmmaker, and improv performer with a career spanning over two decades. His work includes satire, social commentary, and dark humor, often exploring themes like societal critique, futurism, and absurdity.
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CHRIS CONIDIS
Storyteller, Creator, and Performer in St. Cloud, Florida

This July, I’m back coaching improv classes in Toronto. If you’ve already taken classes with me or RJ feel free to reach out and reconnect. New? Shoot me a DM—I’ll send you the sign-up info- thanks!
Check Out Medium Content here:

Your Foot Print Has Been Logged



Storytelling isn't fluff—it's fuel.
In CEOWORLD Magazine, Chris Conidis explores how great leaders use storytelling to inspire action, shape brand identity, and build lasting trust.
Your data needs a voice. That voice is your story.
Read now on CEOWORLD.biz:
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https://ceoworld.biz/2024/11/28/chris-conidis-how-does-storytelling-shape-success/#google_vignette
Chris Conidis: How Does Storytelling Shape Success?
#Leadership #ChrisConidis #Storytelling #BusinessStrategy #CEOWORLD #NarrativePower


The Mirror at the End of the Lane by Chris Conidis is a haunting tale that delves deep into the truths we often avoid. In the eerie town of Willowend, a mysterious mirror reflects not just faces but the unspoken secrets and moral cracks that define its inhabitants. Edgar Plumb, a young boy seeking a momentary escape, discovers just how far the mirror’s gaze reaches — and the unsettling truth about his own future.
This story explores the consequences of pretense and the uncomfortable reality that we all try to avoid. A perfect reminder of the importance of confronting our truths before they confront us.
Read the full story here: The Mirror at the End of the Lane
https://medium.com/@chris-conidis/chris-conidis-the-mirror-at-the-end-of-the-lane-c68a5ad96dd8


Genre: Horror / Dark Fantasy
A cycle of dark tales connected by objects, omens, and the strange forces that carry them across generations. Each story stands alone yet echoes another—woven by unseen hands and bound by fear, fate, and forgotten pacts. Gothic-modern in aesthetic, rich in mood and myth.
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Hitchcock: Master of suspense, but also the guy who made you question whether or not your mother actually loves you
Dark Comedy DNA: Why Satirists Owe a Drink to Hitchcock, Serling, and Chaplin.
I’ve been rewatching Hitchcock, not for suspense—but for stillness. For his intros as satire - there’s something about a man in a tight frame, doing absolutely nothing, that feels louder than screams. I’m chasing that tension in silence for my own projects lately. Still frames, breath between lines, paranoia with no soundtrack.
Read the articles
here and on Medium

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Chris Conidis Unveils “Progress City”: A Satirical Take on Futurism and Modern Life
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“Progress City,” a sharp satire that takes a deep, comical dive into society’s love affair with “progress.” This new project, a sprawling parody of futurism and modern life, unpacks humanity’s journey from the cave to today’s social dilemmas. With his trademark humor, Conidis pokes fun at how every era has imagined the future—often with more confidence than accuracy—and how these visions have both shaped and clashed with reality.
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In “Progress City,” Conidis explores humanity’s attempts at advancing, for better or worse, across a variety of eras, from our early ancestors’ first discovery of fire to the contemporary pursuit of “likes” and “followers.” He calls it “a humorous archaeological dig through the fossil record of our ambitions,” and each chapter pulls no punches. Rather than romanticizing humanity’s progress, Conidis tackles the myths and follies of each era with a critical, entertaining eye.
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“The funny thing about the future,” Conidis says, “is that every generation thinks they’re the first to figure it out. We’re not all that different from cavemen—we just swapped campfire storytelling for scrolling and status updates.” His approach is part critique, part stand-up comedy routine, and all satire, painting a portrait of human nature as it has evolved—technologically, if not always intellectually.
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In the spirit of Conidis’s previous works, “Progress City” doesn’t merely poke fun at the past and present; it asks readers to reflect on the direction we’re heading. “We’re in an age where tech rules our lives, but we still don’t know what to do with our hands when we take a photo,” he jokes. “Progress has made us smarter on paper, but when it comes to common sense, well… let’s just say it might still be in beta testing.” These observations reveal the hilarious contradictions between our advanced tools and the often unchanged human instincts that wield them.
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One central theme of “Progress City” is how humanity’s constant push for the “next big thing” sometimes results in absurdity. “Every few centuries, someone invents something that they swear will change the world—stone tools, steam engines, social media algorithms—and yet here we are, still figuring out how to get along.” Conidis believes that the project will resonate with audiences who can relate to the idea of progress that somehow always leaves us wanting more.
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He takes aim at today’s obsession with technology as well, particularly the ways we measure success and fulfillment in digital terms. “In caveman days, your status symbol was the biggest piece of mammoth meat. Today, it’s your follower count. Either way, it’s about who’s got the biggest… following,” he quips. “Progress City” explores how these primitive instincts have evolved—or haven’t—despite our sophisticated new toys.
Conidis’s audience will find that “Progress City” is as much a mirror as it is a comedy. By setting today’s achievements alongside the feats of ancient societies, he paints a comedic picture of the ways we repeat old patterns even as we think we’re blazing new trails. “If we’re so futuristic, why do we still find ourselves in traffic jams?” he jokes. “If the cavemen could see us now, they’d probably just laugh.”
Chris Conidis continues to delight audiences by dissecting society’s quirks with a refreshing sense of humor, proving that comedy can be a powerful tool for reflection. “Progress City” promises to be an enlightening, entertaining journey through the timeline of human aspirations, inviting readers to laugh at how much we’ve changed—and how much we haven’t.
The Cult of the Dead Mouse: A Tale of Mickey Ear Mania

Ah, Disney World—the most magical place on Earth. Where else can you frolic through artificial lands, feast on $15 churros, and proudly parade around with what amounts to a mouse scalp on your head? Yes, the iconic Mickey Mouse ears—cultural symbol, tourist rite of passage, and possibly the strangest mass-purchase decision in human history.
Picture it: crowds of cheerful visitors, blissfully unaware, paying $29.99 (plus tax) for the privilege of wearing a pair of synthetic ears stapled to a plastic headband. That’s right, folks—they’re celebrating the decapitation of a beloved animated rodent.
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The Backstory Nobody Asked For
Legend has it that Mickey, the humble cartoon mouse, sold his soul to the Walt Disney Corporation for immortality. But even a mouse can’t escape capitalism. His likeness was replicated, manufactured, and eventually reduced to these ear hats—a sort of totem for the mouse-worshiping masses. Imagine if Simba fans wore lion pelts to honor him.
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A Dark Epiphany
But what if, one day, the truth dawns on the crowd? Imagine the horror when someone in Fantasyland suddenly realizes they’ve paid money to look like they skinned a beloved children’s character.
"I bought this for $50, and I’m wearing the top half of a dead mouse’s head!" screams Karen, clutching her sequined Minnie ears in existential despair. “Does this make me an accessory to murder?!”
Nearby, a dad with a Goofy visor pulls out his wallet to console her. “Don’t worry, honey. It’s not real. It’s just…corporate genius!” He turns to the castle and whispers, “Please don’t ban me, Disney.”
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The Merch Madness
But it doesn’t stop with Mickey ears. Oh no. Disney fans have proven they’ll slap their credit cards down for anything. Light-up ears for $10 more? SOLD. A Halloween-themed pair that look like Mickey’s ghost? “Take my money!” Limited-edition golden ears for the park’s anniversary? “I will trample three families to get them!”
Disney merch designers are the true wizards of this world. Somewhere in a backroom, they’re brainstorming the next absurd iteration:
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“Mickey Ears with Built-In Wi-Fi”
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“Figment Horns for the Edgy Millennials”
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“Haunted Mansion Mouse Antlers” (for the moody teens)
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A Collective Denial
Back in the park, a small crowd gathers around Karen as she cradles her ears, staring into the void. “Why do we do this? Why do we throw away money to look like…like…a cartoon graveyard?!”
Her husband nods solemnly. “It’s not just the ears. Yesterday, I spent $80 on a popcorn bucket shaped like Buzz Lightyear’s head. And I was PROUD OF IT!”
The crowd gasps. A woman holding a $40 Dole Whip in a souvenir Tiki cup starts sobbing. "Oh my gosh…we’ve all been fooled. We’ve been cult members this whole time!"
But then, in the distance, the Magical Disney Marketing Voice™ echoes through the speakers. “Don’t think of them as dead mouse scalps. Think of them as…pixie dust for your soul.”
The group blinks. A beat passes. Someone quietly puts the ears back on.
Karen sighs. “Well, they are kinda cute.”
Her husband shrugs. “And, you know, the kids love them…”
Within minutes, the existential crisis fades, replaced by cheerful chatter and lines for churros. After all, it’s hard to argue with magic—especially when it costs $29.99.
And so, the Cult of the Dead Mouse marches on, ears high, wallets empty, and dreams unbroken.