Swap Meet Synchronicity - a Billy Blob play

After losing his apartment, girlfriend, and most of his hope, Dan meets a strange swap meet vendor who thinks coincidence and Carl Jung can help get his life back on track. All Dan has to do is follow the synchronicity, even if it leads him to a giant killer rat.

A psychological comedy that explores the power and potential danger of self-realization at the 2025 KC FRINGE. Inspired by the philosophy of  Carl Gustav Jung and the Police. 

A review from the Fringe Staff:

“Swap Meet Synchronicity” is a delightfully oddball tale that is weird in all the right ways. It opens on a man at rock bottom, just trying to buy blackout curtains. Instead, he finds himself on an increasingly surreal quest involving a cryptic vendor, a suspiciously cheap parakeet, and a steadily growing sense that something deeper is going on behind the folding tables.

There’s an air of mystery to the show that builds steadily, like a scavenger hunt with no map but lots of clues. Each booth unlocks a new layer of strangeness, insight, or uncomfortable truth. It never gets too heavy, though. The cheesy moments are self-aware, the performances playful, and the pacing quick enough to keep it fun.

The cast’s chemistry sells every surreal beat. They treat each oddball twist with enough sincerity to keep it grounded, while still having fun with the absurdity. The script knows it’s playing with big ideas, but it never takes itself too seriously. And while the larger set transitions might slow the momentum at times, this scrappy, creative theater rewards your curiosity.

“Swap Meet Synchronicity” isn’t just out to entertain. It nudges the audience to look inward, even if it’s through the lens of a giant rat or cryptic price tags. The show never tells you what to think, but it plants the right questions. What if the things we ignore about ourselves are the very ones we’re meant to confront?

There’s no need to overanalyze. Just follow the signs and enjoy the ride. And maybe, just maybe, pay attention next time something at a flea market feels strangely… personal.

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