The Comic

By Chris Lundy

A dark story of a comedian who gets the last laugh. Originally published in the winter 1994 edition of New England Writer's Network.

The first 1,600 words is the short story. The rest are free samples of my other work.

Written by Chris Lundy, who shares writing tips at:
Whatilearnedbywriting.com
and makes bizarre and sometimes offensive videos at:
youtube.com/user/verylittleknowledge

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chris Lundy
• Release date: Jul 29, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301196586

Chris Lundy

Hi,Thanks for taking a few minutes away from reality with me.You'll find a variety of stories here, from literary fiction to pure imagination.Sometimes I'm silly. Sometimes I go to very dark places. Come along for the ride.Be an enabler and support my writing habit by buying shirts and bumper stickers: http://www.zazzle.com/verylittleknowledgeI also share writing tips on my blog, WhatILearnedByWriting.com.Have fun,~Chris

Book preview

The Comic

by Chris Lundy

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 1994 Chris Lundy

Find A Variety Of My Fiction At Smashwords

"Sleep" – 3 short stories for the price of one

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The Fun Capital of the East Coast, as the sign proclaimed, was a cement basement where smoke lingered like stagnant dirty snow. Beneath a New York sports bar, the club housed 34 tables, 4 waitresses, a bus boy, 3 bartenders and a stage three feet above the 60-year-old floor. The stage jutted out a spotlight's distance from a thick, maroon curtain which was characteristically difficult to find the opening to.

Every night was comedy night. Morris Moracki, the big cheese of the whole operation, payed bottom dollar for the local talent, a lot of amateurs. Tonight he considered himself fortunate. A comedian, well known throughout YouTube for the jokes he makes of himself, would be performing that night for free. The comedian did not say how long he would perform, which made Morris a bit nervous. But the fact that he was attaining free talent calmed him down.

The crowd was coming and going before 11, the famed comedian's opening time, exchanging earned hours for hangovers. The comedians of the night had run out of the good or the new stuff way too early and had began to dabble in obvious improvisation before they opted to flee from the stage. Morris chewed each of them out for not filling the time promised and penalized them in their salaries.

After emotionally and fiscally damaging one of the opening acts, Morris slapped a slap-happy grin on his face, jogged between tables and leaped up onto the stage, waving and slapping hands the entire time. He swung the stained microphone to his lips, and thickened his accent. Now, ladies an' gentlemen, the moment you awl been waiting for! The sports bar above could hear the applause. Ah, you New Yawk crowds are de best! Straight outta New Yawk City, in case you haven't heard, his name is Big Fat Leroy Brown! I'm sure you'll catch this one, when he sits around the house...

He sits around the house! Every audience member in the over-loaded arena replied as he ran back down through the tables, high-fiving, and headed behind the bar.

580 pounds of Leroy Brown navigated through the curtain and met nearly unyielding applause. Once calmed, he began, Sorry about Morris' intro, but the comedy host is always the least funny person on a stage.

The result from the audience was a resonating oooooo and a couple of ouch's as a few people peered toward the bar at the host. Morris clenched his fist inside his jacket, put on an even more fake smile, and reached for some napkins to scribble down some comebacks for later.

Leroy grinned as wide as his huge face directly at Morris. The piercing spotlight probe added strange shadows in his lumpy physique. His bright and beady eyes and Cheshire smile seemed pasted over his sunken expression; they clashed with the rest of his face. It looked like the grotesque make-up of a clown that children are afraid of. Young, worried man's wrinkles under the eyes and lips dragged his face slowly down, to the point where it seemed almost as if the wrinkled fat would pull his face completely off and all that would be left would be the unnatural smile and beaming eyes shimmering in the spotlight. He usually sweat so badly on stage that even the back rows could see his shirt darkening during the performance (some could even tell time by it). But tonight he was the opposite, cold, perhaps numb, even under the strenuous dehydrating heat lamp of a spotlight.

He drew his smile together and collected himself a moment. But, really, folks, I think Morris deserves a big round of applause for the energy he puts out every evening, what do you say? The applause and whistling could not be heard upstairs, but Morris waved to it, shocked in the middle of a good comeback versus Leroy, who continued, "You bunch of