Nuclear Family

Fine, you big-headed little runt. You bothered me long enough. I’ll tell you the damned story.

So, this was just a little bit after the nuclear holocaust. And I was at the Graveyard Comedy Club doin' my regular set. So I start with my openin' schtick.

“Yeah, this is usually the part where I say. ‘My name as Garrett Barnes and I’m so happy to be here, but after bein' stuck here for three damned years, we know that ain’t true.”

I get a little burst of laughter from the crowd. My confidence is up, so I go on.

“I could have gotten stuck in a nice place like Los Angeles. Nice weather. Or New York, the economic center of the world. But instead, I get stuck in damned New Orleans. Yeah, I know all those other places got bombed. That’s still better than this dump.”

More laughter. I’m like ‘good’. This is a good audience. No one is takin’ it personal. No old ladies clutchin' their pearls in the audience. I go on.

“Now, the fuckin’ fate of the whole damned world is on the backs of a bunch of drunks and strippers. I mean honestly, what skills we got to deal with this post-apocalyptic nightmare. What the hell am I gonna do when a three-eyed teenaged mutant ninja bear emerges from nuclear sludge about to attack me? What? Am I gonna tell it a joke? Hand it some damned Mardi Gras beads?”

And that one sends everyone into a tizzy. There’s bald men lookin’ like giant babies spittin up their beers. These prim and proper ladies suddenly lookin' like sasquatch because they’re ugly laughing. Everyone is havin' a ball… except for this one uptight chick. Smack dab in the front row.

I mean, I’m gettin’ nothin’. No laughter. No smile. I can’t even get those damned pity claps. You know the ones Jay Leno used to get when he says something that’s not quite funny but they appreciate the effort. You know what I’m sayin’!

But, you know, bein' the consummate professional, I go on.  

“It’s crazy to me that we even got this far? I mean, what was Noth Korea thinkin' when they bombed us? Huh? They thought we were just gonna walk it off? Turn the other cheek? Turn the other cheek? That shit’s for black people protestin' racial injustice. Not WAR.”

More laughter… Well, the white people look a little uncomfortable but black people love it!

“Ever notice that? We white people love turn the other cheek when it’s a bunch of black panthers showin' up at our doorsteps with sawed-off shotguns. But we don’t want MLK drivin' our F150s.”

“Yeah, so I knew it was over once North Korea took the first shot. Because America was just gonna start shootin' like a blindfolded kid swingin' at a pinata. After 9/11 we invaded the wrong country and stayed there for a damned decade? What makes you think after we get hit with a nuclear warhead, we’re gonna just shoot the correct country and just chill. Nah, we shot North Korea, South Korea -- our bombs were so racist they were shootin' up Japan, China. Tossed in a few Muslim countries for no damned reason. I’m like where the fuck did that come from?”

I look down briefly and Front and Center still ain't buyin' it. I go on.

“And why bomb anyone in the first place? I mean, once you bomb them, what are you gonna do? Take their nuclear-infested land? What? They want your things? They blew that shit up! That’s like “hey, congratulations, your grandma croaked, you got an inheritance” ‘Oh well thank --’ “She owes fifty thousand in back taxes.’ “

“But yeah. I feel all this pressure. Like, I’ve gotta propagate the human species. Like I said, I don’t have much to offer. I hope my talents aren’t genetic because all I have to pass on are makin' people laugh and a big ass head. And I’m pretty sure ninety percent of the first has to do with the second. Look, this guy in the front row hasn’t heard a damned thing I said but he’s still laughin' his ass off ‘Holy Moses! Look at the size of that thing! Is that a mutation!’ No, mother fucker! This is all-natural! I got this fresh off the lot! My mother reminds me every day about how painful labor was. Sometimes she has flashbacks and calls me randomly ‘DO YOU KNOW I SPENT SIX GRUELin' HOURS AND LABOR SQUEEZin' THAT BIG ASS MELON OUT OF MY --’ Oh, come on mom. It’s five in the mornin’!’”

Finally, I can’t take it. This woman is halfway through my set and she hasn’t cracked a SMILE. At this point, she is mad doggin’ me so bad, I think she’s a trained assassin there to kill me. I have to say somethin’. 

“Sorry, what’s your deal?” I say and I point her out.

“Who me?” she says like she wasn’t ruinin’ my fuckin’ show.

I was pissed off she was playin’ all Mary-mother-of-Jesus, “Yeah you! You see any other half-dead mannequins anywhere around here?”

“What’s goin' on with you? You took a wrong turn or somethin’? You lookin’ for the wake? You haven’t laughed at a damned thing I’ve said.”

Then this bitch shrugs and says, “I haven’t seen anything to laugh at.”

That gets a bunch of Ooos from the crowd, but then at that moment, I make the decision. We’re not endin’ this show until she laughs. I say it out loud.

“Well, I’m gonna have you laughin’ by show’s end,” I turn to the rest of the crowd. “She’s probably one of those dark comedy types. It’s like I was watchin’ a movie with this one chick. She’s like ‘Oh this is funny’. I’m like ‘Bitch, this is Shindler’s list!’”

Everyone bursts into laughter except my little foe in front.

In a sea of laughs, I add, “I’ve gotta remember to put that on my datin' profile next time. Anti-semites need not apply.“

Still nothin’.

“Not funny?... OK, she’s not a nazi so we narrowed it down. What do you do for a living?”

She says, “I’m a wedding planner.”

“Weddin' planner? What the hell is wrong with you? Who the hell is a weddin' planner durin' a nuclear holocaust? I already gotta deal with the possible extinction of human civilization. Now, you wanna toss in rememberin’ not to keep the toilet seat up? Life is hard enough. That’s like askin' for a side of heart disease with your cancer.”

A few laughs, but maybe the cancer part was a little too edgy.

“But I got a story for you. Let me tell you about my buddy.”

I slow it down a little bit. Talk a little lower so people have to lean in. I really want them to get this.

“I got this buddy. He’s in charge of nuclear waste disposal. This has to be the most miserable job on the planet. The guy gets up at three in the morning. Puts on that fuckin’ Hazmat suit. And he’s gotta make sure every inch of that suit is sealed as tight as Gweneth Paltrow’s ass. Because if a square millimeter of that suit is open, he’s dead. He starts suffocatin' and his eyes bug out like Arnold Scwatchegger in total recall.”

After I receive no response to the reference, I lighten it up, “What no one ain’t seen the movie? Damnit. I’ve gotta find new similes.”

That gets a few laughs, but they settle down again as I’m back in serious mode.

“But anyway, every morning, he goes outside the bubble to check if nuclear toxicity levels are goin' down or some shit, And as they fall, each day, he goes a little bit further out,” and this is the part where my voice gets serious, I say, “And sometimes, he sees a dead elk or a dead deer that’s slowly succumbed to toxins -- and every time he looks in these dead fucker’s eyes, he looks at it like he’s lookin at death. Because he’s wonderin’ if he’s lookin’ at us. Lookin’ at our future. Wonderin’ if we’re gonna rise to the challenge and create a new civilization or just fuck it all up and finish ourselves off. But that’s not the worst part of his day. He tells me the worst part of his day is…” and this is where my tone changes back, “...goin’ home to that crazy ass wife of his!”

That line gets the second biggest laugh of the day. And this laugh lasted from here to Mississippi. It lasted so long it should be it’s own time unit. Thirty-eight-point-four-nine seconds should be renamed the Garrett. I was Leonardo DeCaprio at the edge of that ship yellin’ I’m the king of the world. And I would’ve stopped it right there… Except I still hadn’t achieved my mission. I hadn’t made that dame laugh. So, I push forward.

“Can I ask you one question?”

I can tell she’s holdin' back a smile at this point, but now I’ve got her on Front Street. She’s got no choice but to say, “Yes?”

“Are you married?”

I already know the answer as she purses her lips to say, “No.”

I pace away pretty satisfied with myself.

“She’s a hypocrite, ladies and gentlemen!” 

I turn to rub it in, “How are you gonna sell the product if you haven’t even tried it out!”

And I finally get a smile as she says, “I’m still lookin' for the right guy.”

At this point, I realize I should have ended the show a minute earlier. But then I say the stupidest most outrageous thing I can think of. I look her in those beady little eyes of hers and say, “Maybe I’m the right guy.”

It’s like we’re Abbott and Costella because she immediately comes back with, “You’re not my type.”

“Not your type? What? I’m handsome! I’m -- I’m alive! I’ve got all my fingers. I don’t have a second head growin' out of my neck from nuclear catastrophe. What more could you ask for?”

And that’s when I realized I had let my guard down. I had made a mistake. I had teed her up for the kill.

With the most gangster look on her face, she says, “I prefer a man with a sense of humor.”

So get this. Not only do I not make this woman laugh but the bitch steals my thunder with a joke that a fifth-grader could come up with but she delivers it with such scathing derision that the whole crowd goes crazy.

One lady almost knocks over a table. One guy’s dancin' in the aisles like he just caught the holy ghost. And there’s this one fucker laughin' so hard I think his ass is about to spontaneously explode. People are gaspin' for breath, I’m checkin’ out the men and who I will and will not give CPR. People were laughin' so hard and so recklessly, I was thinkin' we were gonna have to send in a damned swat team

And get this. I open my mouth for a comeback, but I got nothin’. She blurts out this half-ass insult and the whole world thinks she’s fuckin’ Joan Rivers come back to life. And the whole thing is so ridiculous, I start laughin’. 

Finally, the whole crowd gets quiet and they’re lookin’ at me waitin' for my brilliant response, but I was always taught to always go out on a high note. So, admittin' defeat, I just laugh, put the microphone on the ground and walk away to a round of applause.

And that, son, is the day I met your soul-sucking wench of a mother. 

And it was the best day of my life.