With February running out, we needed to find a show for me to test out my newly minted improv comedy skills.

With a pretty busy month for the various players and a slim calendar of available venues, Improv 304’s best chance turned out to be the West Virginia International Film Festival’s Oscar Party at Timothy’s Bar on Quarrier Street in Charleston, which would take place Sunday, February 28.

Our troupe would be part of the entertainment, but not the main event. The plan was for us to contribute a couple of short games during the show –just little improv pieces that could be done in the time it took for the television network to sell soap or SUVs or whatever products had purchased times during the Academy Awards.

I have no idea. I haven’t watched the Oscars in years. The only film I’ve seen lately is “Deadpool,” which has about as much chance of being nominated for an Academy Award as I do (keep your fingers crossed).

While I felt better about what I was doing, I still felt like I needed just a few more tips. Since I’d spoken with my fellow players and the more advanced actors with the No Pants Players, it seemed logical to find a professional.

So, I reached out to Drew Carey, probably one of the funniest people alive, and the former host of the American version of “Whose Line Is It Anyway?,” a show improv players frequently refer to.

Carey and the other comedians on that show made improv comedy look so easy, which is part of what makes them so good.

It’s not just talent, but the skills of a craft developed over a lifetime.

I was still looking for a shortcut.

So, I contacted CBS, which airs the game show, “The Price Is Right.” Carey is the current host. They told me that “The Price is Right” wasn’t a CBS property and suggested I contact the show directly.

My attempts to reach Drew Carey through “The Price is Right” went nowhere. Emails through the show’s customer service were spat back as undeliverable.

So, instead, I reached out to the Upright Citizens Brigade.

The Upright Citizens Brigade is an improvisational and sketch comedy group that was founded in Chicago in 1990. Among the group’s original members was Amy Poehler (“Parks and Recreation,” “Saturday Night Live”), also one of the funniest people alive.

The group has flourished and now there are multiple chapters of the company –two in L.A. and two in New York. The company also offers improv classes to actors, comedians, and whoever else is interested in giving it a shot.

Shannon O’Neill is the artistic director for the New York office and an actor in New York. She’s appeared on several television shows, including Comedy Central’s “Broad City” and “The Chris Gethard Show” on Fuse.

O’Neill joined the troupe in 2000.

“I signed up for a UCB class in 2000 and just never left,” she said.

An actress, O’Neill worked her way up from student to a house team to a couple of groups that work on the weekends.

She spent half a dozen years on one of the house teams, working and learning before she was invited to join one of the more public weekend improv comedy teams.

“It takes years,” she said. “You’re not going to take three classes and jump up on a main stage.”

Most of the people O’Neill does comedy with, she’s worked with for years, though people come and go even in the weekend groups.

“They move on or move out to L.A.,” she said.

“The group you’re with, they’ve been together for a while?” O’Neill asked.

“About a year,” I told her. “We meet in the basement of a bookstore, where they have nude models on other nights.”

“Well, that’s how it starts,” she said.

In all honesty, O’Neill figured that after a month, I was probably about the same as I was around my third improv workshop. I couldn’t have gotten very far, but wasn’t completely hopeless.

“I think you’ll surprise yourself,” she said, and added. “Don’t try to be funny. Don’t try to make jokes. Just be honest and the truth in the comedy will come out.”

O’Neill wished me luck.

At my final workshop, we worked through our games and tested a few ideas in the 90 minutes we had. It went surprisingly well.

I tried to keep my head as empty as a cracked coffee mug. I tried to stop thinking too far ahead, made myself listen, and just reacted.

Some of the bits we did were actually, sort of, funny –not knee slapping, hilarious, roll-in-the-floor funny, but amusing.

That seemed like an improvement. Nothing that came out of my mouth made me want to write a letter of apology to anyone.

On the way out, we made plans to squeeze in a final, short practice before the showcase on Sunday.

Walking to our cars, Nick Griffin said, “You’ve taken to this like a duck to water. You’re going to do fine.”

I don’t know if that was true, but it felt like I might at least get out of this without drowning.