Got Balls? (Part 3)

I was standing in the back of the room, unable to think straight, when the woman running the place came over and told

me we were starting in a few minutes. She said the audience was packed with high school wrestling parents. They were having a benefit at the club that night. She wanted me to talk them up. Immediately a joke popped into my head about wrestlers, but I was questioning myself. Am I funny? Is that a good joke, or will it be insulting? Should I say that? Second guessing yourself equals death.

I was interrupted by the Headliner who started to give me advice. It was similar to the Middle’s advice about being myself. I nodded my head and said, “Thanks.” But all I wanted to do was run. I needed to get it together.There was a minute to spare, so I ran into the bathroom. I locked the door and gave myself the "bathroom chat." I looked

at myself in the mirror and said out loud, “You are funny. Fuck last night. You can do this.” Then whenever I talk to myself in a mirror, it makes me laugh, so I started laughing. I heard the music playing, and I ran out.

I was introduced, and I ran up on stage. I stopped thinking about my tight jeans, the old bastard, last night, everything. All I could focus on was the crowd. The energy was amazing. The place was packed. These people had come for a show. I grabbed the mike. And I decided to go for it.

I said, “I’m your MC tonight. I heard there are some parents in the audience.” They clapped. “And your kids are wrestlers?” They clapped and cheered. It was about half the audience of probably 200 people. I said, “You must be so proud of your sons...those anorexic faggots.” The audience exploded. “They’re always spitting in a cup, trying to make weight. Popping boners the entire match. This is a sport? I’m so sorry your sons wrestle. How upsetting for you.” More laughs.

It was a good show for me. I could’ve read the dictionary, and they would’ve stayed with me. Once they like you, they’re yours. After I got off stage, the energy was high. I set up the other two comics for success. That’s the MC’s job, and I had done what I needed to do. The other two comics killed. The show was amazing. It was just what I needed.

When the show was done, I was getting my stuff together to leave. The Middle and Headliner came over to me. The Middle said, “I couldn’t believe when you said that thing about the wrestlers. I died laughing.” The Headliner agreed, “I don’t know if I would’ve said that. Nice job up there. You’ve got balls.”

The woman running the club had complimented my job, and that made me happy because I knew my manager would get a good report. But compliments from comics are scarce. They meant more to me. I wanted to hug both of them. I wanted to tell them about what happened the night before. I wanted to tell them how relieved I was that it had gone over, and that I had a good show. But I didn’t know these guys, and we were talking about balls now. So I smiled and said, “Thanks. See ya around.” And me and my new set of very big balls walked out, happy to be back.