So how about those subways? The people you see in there? I…I was there the other day and…” Some drunk guy laughed, but Joe held his breath, doing his best to smile. The lights made him feel like he’d been spotted by a watch tower. This was what he’d come to New York for.and no one was going to tell him otherwise. He brushed the last comic’s stupid smile out of his mind. He’d walked out onto a thrust stage: the kind they usually had for modeling shows. The searing white spotlights blinded him. He shouldered the comic out of the way andstepping out onto the stage. “Got em all warmed up for you, buddy,” the comic said. He watched as the comic before him stepped back through the curtain, applause booming from the other side. How the hell anybody find this funny? Why had he found it funny? It just felt foreign to him now.the way you’d look at gibberish or a calculus problem. Joe gripped the sweaty microphone, going through his routine in his head. When you actually cinched one, the word “no” really wasn't in your vocabulary. You just watched as gig after gig passed you by. In the comedy circuit, choosing offers was a lot like standing on an assembly line.
In fact, he’d just accepted the offer blindly. He didn’t know the name of the comedy club. Joe paced around backstage, listening to the voices on the other side of the red curtain.
The main reason I didn't really allude to them in this is because I didn't want to give the false idea that they'd appear.Īlso, if you have any other ideas for TFs, shoot me a message! I'll pretty much do anything as long as I'm familiar with the subject matter. I might make one of Dot and Wakko, but nothing's certain yet. This is the first of what I hope to be many TF stories.
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