Ron’s Utter Failure of a Comedy Act.

Ron took the microphone out of the stand, tossed the cord over his shoulder and let it drape over his left jacket pocket. Then he took a piece of black electrical tape and taped the microphone to his chest, under his chin. He did the old “Check, Check,” and, assured that he was coming through the P.A. okay, motioned the sound man to dim the lights. This was the type of club where the sound guy and the light guy were the same guy, and you tipped your waitress for your buck fifty domestic beer.

“Good Evening,” Ron said, grinning and holding his hand over his eyes until they adjusted. A single person clapped. A waitress clinked some glasses together. An old man near the back coughed and a young guy put his feet on the stage, while wearing a red mesh hat that said “fuck you” in big puffy white letters.

“My name is Ron. I’m from right here in Battle Creek. How is everyone feeling tonight? Make some noise if you’re feeling good,” he said. There was only a small cough in response.

“ALRIGHT!” he yelled into the microphone. “Well like I said my name is Ron and I’m a total failure at life man. Total failure. For example the other day I was in line at the taco bell and I ordered a cheeseburger.” A man sniffled in the audience.

“Cheeseburger,” he said again, waiting for it to sink in. “Well like I said man I’m a failure at everything I do. The other day I was the Burger King drive thru and I ordered a taco. The lady looked at me like I was an idiot, which I am, but that’s beside the point. I may be ordering stupid shit but she has to listen to me. And I pointed that out to her and she spit in my taco.” And here Ron paused again for the laughs. There was only a sigh from somewhere beyond the lights. The guy with the puffy “Fuck you” hat took it off and laid it on the table with the bill facing the stage.

“Well it’s okay, man I’m a failure. Total failure. I tried to stay married to this chick and I failed at it. We’d be in bed and she’d tell me ‘Deeper Ron, DEEPER!’ and I couldn’t go no deeper man, so I said to her ‘I can’t go no deeper,’ I mean it’s like an index finger down there. So I said to her ‘I can’t go no deeper.’ Then she calls me another man’s name.”

Ron took some time to fiddle with his neon green collar. He thumbed the crease back and forth a few times, knocking his hand against the mic under his chin. he vaguely heard someone in the crowd talking about him. He only made out a few words,”…off of danger…hack.”

“And so I asked her what that was all about. and she said I couldn’t satisfy her so she had another man on the side. She said he was bigger and could go longer and he made her cum so hard that she passed out. So on top of all that he could cure her insomnia too.” No one laughed. Someone booed for the first time in the back. A waitress quickly came over and quieted him down with a free drink. There was no security.

“Yeah man, whatever I want to happen it doesn’t happen. Whatever I set out to do it just fails man. I’m just a grade A complete fuck up. When I was a kid man I had this dream,” and here Ron reached out to the side of the stage for a box of props, “I had a dream that I was gonna be famous man. I had a dream that I was gonna make people happy. I was gonna make my parents happy, I was gonna make my wife happy, I was gonna have some kids and they would love me and tell me I was the best dad ever,” and Ron began to pull a length of rope out of the chest of props, he tossed it over a bar of lights over the stage and began to tie a noose on the end.

“But none of that happened. I gave it my best shot, but all I did was disappoint everyone and blow through all my money. I had a house and some kids and I lost them. I tried out for some bands and they laughed me out of the room. Hell, this here is the first stage anyone ever let me on and it’s only because it’s all or nothing tonight,” Ron made a gesture to the next comic waiting in the wing to come up on stage. The crowd couldn’t see him, he was a very ugly man wearing a dress.

“And here I am and it’s nothing different, So fuck it.”  Ron stepped up on to the little stool that all comedy clubs have on the stage. He took the noose and slipped it over his neck. “Here’s to success and happiness,” he said and then stepped off. The noose was tied correctly and the rope was the right length, however Ron forgot to anchor the other end of the rope to anything. So all he really did was jump down three feet off of a stool to the stage with a well made noose around his neck. He did however slightly sprain his ankle.

Ron landed and lifted up his right ankle immediately. Realizing what happened and how he looked, he decided to keep it up rather than stop. So he pulled on the length of rope until he had the end, then he went to the side of the stage and tied it off, pulled on it to make sure it was secure, then threw the noose over the light bar again. He climbed the stool again, put the noose over his neck again, and jumped off, again.

The whole time the crowd was watching, but only because there was a lot of movement on stage. Mr. “fuck  you” hat was about to fall asleep however, and on the way back over to the mic stand and stool, Ron accidentally kicked his hat, but he didn’t notice, and through his half closed eyes saw the whole thing and  muttered “motherfucker” to anyone listening.

Ron swung by the neck and twitched, because even though the noose was tied right and tight, the distance was not enough to snap his neck, so he strangled slowly. The crowd watched and the longer Ron went without ending the joke, the more chuckles he got. And after a few twenty seconds or so he swung around to reveal that he’d wet his pants, and the crowd laughed out loud for the first time.

Ron’s eyes began to bulge and he was having trouble keeping his tongue in his mouth. He was on the verge of death, but the rope snapped because Ron didn’t have enough money to buy a thicker rope. He fell to the stage and sprained his other ankle. He clutched at the noose around his neck and started sucking in deep racking breaths of air, coughing spit and pulling little strings of rope and blood from his neck. The crowd stopped laughing and booed

The boos woke Mr. “fuck you” hat from his slumber. He looked for his hat, remembering that he placed it on the stage, but it wasn’t there then, and he spotted it lying on the floor underneath his table.

“Motherfucker,” he said to anyone at the table listening. He picked up his hat and knocked some dust off of it and removed a cigarette but from the inside. Then he put it back and on and noticed Ron for the first time. The crowd was booing for him to get off the stage. Mr. “fuck you” hat pointed at Ron and said to everyone at his table, “What the fuck’s wrong with this guy.”

Ron was laying prone on the stage, gasping for air. The ugly guy in a dress was motioning to the stage manager, gesturing, asking when it was his turn to take the stage.