Inside the attendance was sparse, but there seemed a lot of tension in the room. Perhaps a dozen people were dressed up, and another dozen celebrants were tanked up; the former were there for a costume party, the latter had apparently just shown up earlier in the day, and had as yet to run out of cash, although they’d abandoned sobriety some time before. It was 9 pm, the scheduled show start, and, looking around I spied the ‘Laff Trax’ promotional manager sitting looking forlorn at a table by the stage, (he wasn’t dressed up!)
When I greeted him he was quick to enquire as to whether I heard from, or, better still, seen the Master that day. It seems the Master had not been responding to his home phone, cell, or text messages; “It’s 9 pm,” said our jumpy manager, “the show’s supposed to be starting, he should be here now, or at least have the stage set up.” “Relax”, smiled I, “I was here two weeks ago, and he didn’t show up till almost 9:30 pm, and it was a great show!” He didn’t seem comfortable with my assurances, and explained that the Master was leaving for Europe at 5:00 am Monday morning, and he wanted to catch him this evening to iron out some neglected financial wrinkles.
Just then the waitress came over saying, “You assholes!”, (trust me, gentle readers, I don’t believe that she included me in her salutations), “The tickets you printed for the show gave the date of the Costume Party as the 30th, I was here last night and we had to keep turning costumed patrons away! Some of them are back again this evening, pissed off, hung over, and drunk again!” I was dismayed at how a comedy night at a bar can so quickly devolve; last time I was here I’d been greeted by a host of smiling angels, but tonight it was a small mob of irascible, roistering rabble! Well, they do say that variety is the spice of life!
At last the comics began to wander in; first was, ‘Junior’, the second place winner of last weeks’ Comedy Contest, immediately followed by Myles Morrison. Myles had arrived back in Saskatoon at 5:00 am Sunday morning, after a marathon drive from Los Angeles, California, and was to depart with the Master to Europe Monday morning; he appeared a little dishevelled! Then, the master arrived in a, ‘Top Gun’ outfit he’d received when serving Canada’s armed services twenty years back. It took only a couple of minutes to prepare the stage, then, ...off to the riots.
“Junior” said that he had to leave immediately, the Master considered this and told him that he might as well do a couple minute set; he’d put him on immediately! With no further ado, and no warm up, the Master introduced him. I’d say that the room began to fall apart immediately, but that would be inaccurate, as it had never begun to come together! The conversation didn’t skip a beat, and the table of four drunken men began to heckle him right away. A trooper, ‘junior’ continued through almost ten minutes of material. The Master went outside to talk on his cell phone just as ‘Junior’ abandoned the stage and fled the room. There we sat in a raucous room, with no one on stage. Myles, (who’s always willing to go the extra mile), turned to me and said, “OK, how be I go up and introduce you?” And that was the way it began.
Hold the audience? No! I’d never had a grip on them in the first place! But, the show, as such, must go on. I did my routine while people talked around, over and in spite of me. At best I can say that I didn’t get heckled by the four drunks; perhaps I didn’t warrant their bleary attention. Blithely on I sailed, until, with just about a minute left in my set, a boozy old hag at the back yelled, “Shut up, and get off the stage!” So near the finish line I decided to just continue and ignored her! Finally, I turned the mike over to the Master.
As I gathered my stuff the Master began; he’d hardly started when again the hag shouted, “Shut up, and get off the stage!” The Master cocked an eye in her direction, and, politely, explained that, while there was indeed a stage, he was not on it. Again the hag let her wit take a waltz around her anonymity, “Shut up, and get off the stage!” Patience, so hard to win in this world, is all too easily lost, and this is the point where the Master lost his; “You stupid C--t, if you open your mouth again I’ll come down there and shove my C—k down your throat!”
Having done my bit, and finding the ambience not quite to my taste, I bid Myles good luck and began to make myself scarce! As I passed the table of the four unruly drunks, one of them extended his hand towards me, and mumbled something. I shook his hand, and asked him to repeat himself. It sounded like he said, “You were pretty good ....we’re just here to raise shit!” I thanked him for his kind words, and hit the street! “Too crazy for me!” I thought to myself, but then, I pondered it for a moment; maybe I’m just too modest ...perhaps it’s just ...almost too crazy for me!
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