It all started in Astoria. I was delivering a gorilla heart. I got to the house and the place was dark. I saw some lights on the top floor. The buzzer for the third floor in which the couple lived on was no labeled. Rather the name was eaten away by the rain. I began ringing. No answer. The damn intercom didnt even work. Finally a woman called down, "Coming!" A man came down and opened the door and saw me in a gorilla heart costume. I told him to have his wife come down. He said she didnt feel well but she came down. I began singing. They both looked at each other and looked at me strangely. Most people are thrilled at this gesture, but these two seemed confused as to what the hell was going on. You know it's a bad sign when someone is looking at their watch as you are performing. Finally at the end of the performance, I read the message. The husband said, "Oh Zelda.She is so done after tonight." I was like wow. They thanked me and said it was "Interesting" and showed me out. It wasnt a reflection on me. X didnt mark the spot. Whoever Zelda was probably thought this would be the best gift ever but neglected to remember her friends were sticks in the mud. Or she thought she was a bestie when really she was more like the annoying friend of a friend they tolerated. Either way, I still got paid. I called my boss and came clean. He was like, "WOW." I was like, yeah. Apparently Zelda asked him,"Satisfaction guaranteed?" My boss said he had never gotten that question in ten years. Wowsa. Who knows? Maybe the happy couple had a fight and are on the verge of divorce. Either way, it was awkward as hell.
I made my way to the Three Dollar Tavern where I was investing in some stage time. I hadn't been up in sometime because of the book and wanted to dust off my rust. When I got there, I had just missed my friend Mick DiFlo who had a spot at a club up the road that he had to attend to. Either way, caught up with Kyle Bostic who was recently on Eric Andre's show. Also saw Evan Weiss who is now producing shows in the city and met some new folks. I would wander in and out of the room and hear words like "squirter" and "Pummeled in the ass!" Those words are funny when the comedian is killing, but painful as hell and worse than out of tune cellos when they are dying. As the night wore on, some moron from Jersey got up and began saying women werent funny. He said even Tina Fey wasnt as funny as the funniest man. He thought he was brilliant but really he was a moron who killed the room and pissed everyone off. The worst part was, even after he tanked it, this idiot kept going and kept interrupting people's sets. But the people would not let him have it. Each one of the girls who got up let him have it. They asked him about his dishwashing job and handed him his ass. Subhah Agarwal-whom I once nicknamed Captain Kharma, really let him have it. She said he was angry and had a higher level of aggression therefore was not as intelligent. It was awesome. I was like, wow. The other good thing was the guys in the room all sort of pummeled this jerkoff too. No one liked him. He was finally asked to leave in the middle of Subhah's set. It was sad in a way because I was having so much fun watching this jerkoff be destroyed. I went last cause I got there late and had fun. Makes me want to do it again. But wow.
Meanwhile, the show at the club was a bringer and was running late as usual. I had warned Mick about this. The particular show in question that he scored a booked club spot on is a nefarious bringer with a nefarious new talent booker. Although the club owner administered the spot, the show itself sucks. I knew it wasnt going to end well. Plus as I predicted they were running behind. Usually in this show,a marathon of comedy, it has an endless stream of comedians. While some like my friend Mick are excellent, others are very green and are duped into believing that this will advance their career by a greedy booker who pockets their cover charge that each of their five friends pay. Many don't have an act and are clueless what to do behind a mic. Most have no business onstage and frankly should probably quit life. But eh...
When Mick was finished I met him at the Orion Diner and we talked about the night. Turns out his night had been awesomely bad too. Apparently, in the Comedy Show Created By Satan they had this act that was so bad it is actually pretty good now that I talk about it. It was these three people.Two women were dressed like the munchkins from the Wizard of Oz and began singing "We Represent the Lollipop Guild" and even had lollipops. Then this guy came on stage dressed in all black with white gloves and for five minutes said, "I am the cat in the hat, the cat in the hat, the cat in the hat." And then he switched it to "I am the hat in the cat, the hat in the cat." One drunken women in the front row kept encouraging them. Mick on the other hand wanted to punch the guy and put everyone out of their misery. As this torture, probably for the past sins of the entire club rolled on, the sleazy booker apparently told the host to do more time because this act clearly murdered the room in a bad way; as in they died a slow and painful death.
Mick went up an as usual killed, but he told me he was glad to get out of there because it was such a shit filled spectacular. All night I couldnt help but tease him. What I love about Mick was that he has my same evil sense of humor. He bought one of my books and I inscribed, "To Mick DiFlo, I know someday I will see you in hell you evil bastard. In all seriousness, I have never had a more supportive friend in comedy. I hope this book makes me laugh and smile as much as you have made me laugh and smile. Now save me a seat by the furnace. xo April."
After laughing in the diner we began our journey home. I insisted on walking to 8th, Mick on the otherhand wanted to take the bus. I told Mick at this hour we would be better to walk. But Mick insisted. One old woman walked up to the bus and she had a cane and all. She asked us when the bus was coming and we told her we didnt know. I was a lady and offered her a seat. Then the senile old woman asked again. Finally she declared the bus wasnt coming and was going going to Lex, one street down,and hobbled into the night. Mick asked what someone who was basically one hundred was doing walking about. I explained that she was ready to croak, she wanted to make every second count.
Then we laughed about being roommates in hell and walked to Eighth. Sometimes, fact is stranger than fiction and who needs to make up a lie when you have a life like mine.
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl