The entire drive to Boston was fueled by thought. Rick’s mind raced. Hundreds of ideas danced around in his dumb dome. What was he going to say on stage? Rick had already figured out that he was going to be on stage and be amazing. (Writer’s note*This is the thought of every person who pursues stand up comedy for the first time. They will be the best ever. They all believe this. They are all wrong. It takes years and years just to be not bad at comedy. Most comics who try it end up giving up on the dream after they realize its all open mics, scarce crowds and failing over and over at the beginning. But there is nothing more beautiful than the delusion of a brand new comic. If you could bottle and sell that smugness and uncalled for confidence, you would be a billionaire. If you actually stick with it and develop a work ethic, thick skin and belief that you only learn from failure and only improve from constantly editing, correcting, adjusting and watching others, you become not only a real comic, but a person who truly knows them self. But most just become assholes who quit and make excuses why they quit and then write articles about how all comics suck except for ones that actually suck. Okay, end of writer’s note*) Rick knew he was going to be the greatest comedian of all time and space.
Rick was thinking about the one time he actually did stand up. He didn’t intend to. He was tricked. Rick was dating Gal at the time. Gal wasn’t as blunt with her mental abuse as Lady was, but Gal would plant little seeds in Rick’s skull that would fester, linger and grow…
