November 2021: Tough Crowd - Christine Betts
Jimmy’s in the Basement is a great name for a bar. It’s full, and the noise spills out onto the street. They had to move after the floods. It’s got sticky carpets, and they blacked out the windows so it feels subterranean but it used to be more atmospheric.
My mate, Edie, is up. How did I let her talk me into this? I’m queasy. I think of that line of Eminem’s, something about spaghetti. Can I work it into my act?
The host calls ‘time’ for Edie. She gets some laughs, someone in the back wolf whistles. Edie’s been doing stand-up for months. She has some good stuff. The stuff about winding her mum up is brilliant.
The host gives me the nod, and I stand to one side so Edie can get past. The host announces me, and I almost bolt for the door. I look over at Carly and Edie and I get up on the little platform and grab the mic.
‘That was my buddy, Edie. Let’s give her another cheer.’ A few people holler and I feel the warmth of reflected admiration for a second. I’m yelling. I swallow and drop my voice down a notch.
‘Hey, I’m Jeff. I feel like I’m gonna puke. I’m a comedy in the basement virgin. Give me some love.’
‘Say something funny, virgin,’ a dude yells, and everyone laughs. Someone else yells, ‘Wake up, Jeff.’ Great. A Wiggles reference.
Every part of me is sweating. I shout my tight five into the mic. It’s a blur. I ad-lib a bit about how the basement isn’t a basement anymore and the blacked-out windows and the locked fire exits. ‘It feels and smells like some kind of gimp-cave.’
‘You’d know, virgin,’ the dude yells. It may be a different dude.
I used all my best material, but they give me nothing. Crickets. The host calls time. Two guys at the bar are chanting, ‘Virgin, virgin.’ The guy on after me just storms onto the stage and grabs the mic.
‘I was on fire. It was the audience that bombed,’ I say to Carly. She hands me a bottle of water.
‘I laughed,’ she says.
‘I should have done my knock-knock jokes. I get loads of laughs at school.’
She pats me on the back as we leave. That’s her way of telling me she’s proud of me. ‘I think you should stick to teaching kindergarten,’ she says as I unlock the car.
I nod. Where does she think I cut my comedy teeth? Four-year-old kids are a tough crowd.
January’s Right Left Write competition is open now, with a special #GenreCon2022 theme -Tarot - and an extended word limit of 1000. Enter now.
Right Left Write’s November prompt was Knock Knock.