“Promise not to get upset?”
“About what?”
“It’s no big deal.”
“It doesn’t sound good so far.” Appreciative ‘Ha!’s
shot back from beyond the glare.
“You don’t have to be like that about it.”
“Like what?”
“I said it was no big deal.”
“You didn’t make it sound like no big deal” More laughter
and murmured assent rumbled in the darkness.
“Well, that’s what I said.”
“You said I’d get upset.”
“No, I asked you to promise not to get upset.”
“Implying that I would.”
“No, implying that I knew you would turn this into a fight.”
“So now it’s a fight?” There was a pause as a smattering of
chuckles died out.
“See, I knew it.” The chuckles resumed, but they were certain to
die out again if pace further slackened.
“Knew what?”
“That we’d get into a fight.”
“Because you knew I’d get upset.”
“See, I knew it.” The line’s sheer predictability stirred
enough laughs to carry them on.
“Why’d you tell me then?”
“I didn’t, because you didn’t promise not to get upset.”
Laughing mounted behind the stage lights.
“Now I’m upset.” The performers had to pause again when the
laughing peaked.
“See, I knew it.” This time, the show’s titular punch line
was met by a roar of guffaws interspersed with giggling.
~ See I Knew It was an overnight sensation. In just two months the
show went from an open-mike improvisational routine, to headlining twice a night
at Marty’s. It had gone over big with this seven o’clock crowd,
so the performers were in high spirits as they discussed changes to the eleven
o’clock slot in their dressing room.
“Hon, what’d you think of what Marty said about blue material doing
better at eleven?”
“Actually, I was thinking we should revamp the whole act, Dear. Rename
it, You Don’t Know Shit.” Hon laughed and encouraged Dear to go
on.
“Remember too, how he said we should use hipper lingo for the younger
crowd?” Hon nodded.
“So we’ll start off like, ‘Don’t freak out or anything.’”
“’bout wot bee-ach?” Threw out Hon, but then rescinded, “Over
the top?”
“A little, but the ‘bitch’ was good. Don’t get your
panties in a bunch.”
“What if you tell me to get the sand out of my vagina, Dear.”
“I like it. Do you think I should say cunt instead?
“Naw, stick with vagina but save that one. You gonna start this shit again?”
“You don’t have to be such a cunt about it.”
“That’s better. It works there. Um, what the fuck are you talking
about?”
“I said you didn’t have to freak out.”
“The ‘freak out’ thing’s beginning to sound a little
stupid to me now.”
“Hon, remember our rules. No putdowns.”
“You’re right, Dear. I meant contrived. I’m sorry.”
They kissed and made up.
© DCSmith