The Setup

“I don’t think I’ll ever laugh again,” the boy said.

“It’ll take some time but I promise you will.”

Ellis wanted to explain that — when deconstructed — comedy is all about pain. It’s an oxymoron, but when you laugh, it’s about coming to grips with something painful and howling in its face. But the boy was still too young to understand this concept. That conversation remained a few years down the road.

Ellis wished he could take the boy’s pain away, the same as he could for strangers when he stood in front of a microphone. That routine wouldn’t work though. Those jokes were grown-up.

A Priest, a Rabbi and a stripper walk into a bar…

Not exactly the right audience.

Ellis tried to imagine what the boy was experiencing. He pictured a world drained of color. Drained of joy. Dull. Cold despite the heavy sun beating down on them in the park.

But imagining was all Ellis could do. His own father was still alive and kicking in spite of how badly that man abused his body with every meal. So Ellis could only sympathize.

The boy kicked at a rock. It soared across the playground and landed with a BONG against the slide. “It’s not fair!” he shouted.

Fathers die. That’s the natural order of things. I lost my best friend, Ellis thought with immediate guilt. He knew there was a false equivalency there. I can’t make this about me.

Yet this was no less of a daunting, life-altering shift for Ellis as well. When pledging to be godfathers, very few men end up having those loyalty oaths cashed in. A week ago Ellis had been a bachelor. Now he was a single dad to a seven-year-old.

Ellis wondered what dating would look like over the next decade. Could he still perform his standup act at the club in the late night slot? Would Alison, the bartender, still want to come home with him sometimes after the show?

Am I even still dateable? Ellis considered the horrible possibility that he no longer was.

In the field beyond the playground, the boy watched a group of girls running and screaming in what appeared to be a lively game of tag. There was a hesitation in the boy as if he was a split second away from joining in. Ellis badly wanted him to go over there or even to just jump on a swing or climb to the top of the playground. Instead the boy began to cry. Again.

“We can drive to a different park if you like. We can even go to an amusement park.” Ellis questioned whether the boy was even big enough to ride the smallest rollercoaster. But the boy saved him the trouble of figuring it out by shaking off the suggestion.

After a long chase down that reminded Ellis of a lion pursuing a zebra, a girl dressed in all purple slapped her sister on the back. The force brought the smaller girl to the ground with a crash. “YOU’RE IT!” The girl in purple exclaimed triumphantly.

Ellis counted two beats before the crying began — long, woeful sobs which summoned a sprinting mother to provide comfort. But once the girl stopped crying, Ellis figured that was it. Her tumble was forgotten. She would never cry about that pain again, unlike the boy who’d find himself crying about his pain from time to time for the rest of his life.

Tears were wiped. Apologies got made. Then the girl in purple made a funny face at her sister and they both actually laughed.

They laughed?! A feeling of envy passed through Ellis he felt embarrassed to have had. He stuffed the emotion deep down.

Should my dating bio be changed to “single dad”? His mind wandered.

Do I only look at single moms now?

Ellis considered the uncertainty of his future.

“I won’t ever see my Dad again, will I?”

Ellis wondered if the boy's question should be answered as Matt or as himself. Matt believed in a Kingdom of Heaven and eternal life and all that Sunday School stuff that made kids feel ok about what happened to grandma and grandpa. But to Ellis, death was like flicking a light-switch. That void of nothingness from before you were born, that’s where you go back to. That’s where his best friend was — in oblivion.

“No one really knows,” Ellis went with. A cop out. He should’ve picked a side. Isn’t that what fatherhood was all about — deciding what to tell and not tell, and when to do it?

A woman approached them on her morning jog. Sandra I think her name is, Ellis recalled. The downstairs neighbor who’d been at the funeral. She’d said something nice he remembered, but that day was a blur — like trying to read an exit sign on the freeway while going 150 miles an hour.

“Just wanted to check if you guys were ok,” maybe Sandra said, jogging in place. They engaged in a song and dance of sympathy the two boys had experienced a hundred times already that week. Then she followed it up with a stereotypical, “Let me know if you need anything,” before popping her headphones back in and continuing on with her morning run.

She was awkward and jerky, and emotionally performative. But Ellis knew it came from a good place so he didn’t begrudge her. If not for present circumstances, Sandra was the type of girl he’d like to invite for a drink.

She’s being nice cause she pities you. It’s not attraction.

The boy got up. After circling the park aimlessly like a shellshocked POW, the destination he settled on ended up being the playground’s slide — a corkscrew behemoth. Getting into position, his movements were slow as if this was all happening underwater.

He slid. It was a joyless act performed like an experiment. The boy tried it twice more before being convinced there was no joy to be had and returned to the park bench — defeated.

If this was any normal Saturday, Ellis would be getting ready to go to the comedy club. He’d be practicing his jokes in the mirror. The timing and vocal inflection all had to be flawless. Timing was the difference between a roaring crowd and painful silence.

Speaking to his feet, the boy said, “Dad could’ve made this moment funny.”

That’s cause Matt always stole the show. Ellis loved Matt with all his heart but absolutely hated performing after him. His jokes never quite hit the same. Matt was on his way to becoming a headliner…to selling out theaters…to having his name on a marquee…to having his own stand-up special streaming on Netflix…

…to an early grave off a freeway ramp where the rail guard had been weak.

When Ellis thought about his best friend with his chest caved in — broken ribs jabbing at his lungs while he struggled to breathe — he didn’t imagine he’d ever laugh again either.

Did Matt know it when he was taking his final breath?

His lip wobbled. His tear ducts vibrated, threatening to rupture.

You need to remain composed, Ellis told himself. Do it for the boy. Remain composed. Young men need stability.

Ellis rummaged through the kid’s bag, trying to a find a prop he could work with. This is what other comedians called “improv work”. He clasped his hand around something and pulled out…

A banana. Perfect! Bananas are comedic gold.

Ellis peeled away, puffing out his cheeks and making monkey noises. He scratched his head and danced around, going “ooh ooh, aah aah” as the boy considered this strange performance, stone faced and unimpressed. The kids playing tag watched too.

Ellis felt the same silence like at the comedy club when a joke didn’t land. It was a horrible feeling. He’d put himself out there, been vulnerable, invited strangers to partake in that vulnerability and had been completely rebuffed.

Defeated. Ellis tossed the peel on the ground. Maybe someone would come and slip on it. Or perhaps that only happened in cartoons. It lay there, both him and the boy looking at it — awaiting an unsuspecting park-goer to come along. That might get a laugh.

But Ellis suddenly had a change of heart, realizing the cruelty in the prank. No one should be injured and laughed at. What would it teach the kid?

He’d just have to be content to allow the world to play out. The current moment was unbearably painful. But this too shall pass, Ellis acknowledged. The boy will laugh again.

Then his internal monologue corrected the thought: My son will laugh again.

All jokes are composed of two elements: the setup (the painful part) and the punchline. They were just deep in the setup phase right now. A good laugh was in the future — a deep, guttural belly-laugh was waiting down the road. It was distant and difficult to imagine, but it was there.

Ellis would have to remain patient waiting for that punchline.

As she circled back around on her run, Ellis waved at the woman he presumed was named Sandra. The smile she returned made him wonder if he’d been wrong — if there was an attraction there she felt. It’s certainly mutual, Ellis mused. Oh yes it is!

A small flutter of excitement coursed through him when he realized she intended to stop again. Maybe he had misjudged his chances with her.

She yanked out her headphones and approached as Ellis leaned over to grab the banana peel. A horrendous tearing noise from behind halted him mid-bend. He froze. A gentle breeze tickled his bare butt.

He’d split his pants wide open.

Ellis spun around. Everyone had seen it — the boy, Sandra, even the girls playing tag. Blood rushed to his face. He felt humiliated. What god-awful timing.

And the boy chuckled.