Playwright: Terry Horan. At: Horan Productions at Live Bait Theatre, 3814 N. Clark St. Phone: 773-960-7881; $8. Runs through: Jan. 13

It’s not unreasonable for fledgling comedians, lacking experiences gleaned from extensive travel, to look to their childhood environments for material, nor can they be faulted if the behavior of their elders provides the basis for much of their humor. It is customary in our society for adults to ignore young people to the point of rendering the latter nearly invisible, but those who lurk unrecognized also often find themselves privy to observing their elders behaving in less-than-circumspect fashion.

Among the personalities to be found in Terry Horan’s roster of American eccentrics are a seen-it-all cook whose patter has yet to acknowledge the expanding gender diversity of his financial-district clientele. There is also a curmudgeonly senior citizen taking a solitary meal who vociferates over the manners of the affectionate couple at the next table. Then there’s the incontinent driver stopped for speeding on his way to the nearest rest-stop. (It’s not ALL geriatrics, however: The show’s title inspires a musical interlude set to “Kiss You All Over,” in which a lonely dancer’s fantasy of his imaginary partner reaches graphic extremities.)

These themes are not without their universality. Unfortunately, in his haste to immerse himself in the character under scrutiny, Horan frequently rushes his set-ups, leaving spectators to locate themselves within sometimes-unfamiliar scenarios. The sketch about a moviegoer encountering culture shock at the concessions counter, for example, is easy enough to comprehend—but why is it so important that we know that the young cineaste is short and his date, vertically overendowed? Our enjoyment of the burger-slinging chef’s stream-of-conscious monologue, too, is impeded by Horan’s barely registering the customers’ responses. It doesn’t help, either, that the scenes are separated by pop-tune bridges that ran too long on opening night.

Horan is at his best when his fancy is grounded, not in hostile caricature, but in proportions no bigger than real life—like the discomfort of a freshly absolved sinner at Sunday confession as he wonders if the next penitent has overheard his recitation of unholy deeds, or a father’s misgivings on a bird-watching trip with his young son. Observations such as these, defining themselves clearly and quickly, are of far better service to a comedic artist looking to appeal to a greater diversity of audiences than those of his peers at this stage of his career.