The Comedian

“I have a terrible sense of humor.”

 

“No, no you don’t.”

 

“You don’t know. And, you don’t know—It’s terrible. I get it from my dad.”

 

“How can anyone have a terrible sense of humor?”

 

“I’ll tell you.”

 

“Tell me.”

 

“I will.”

 

“Okay, tell me now.”

 

“I think it was because my dad was sensitive and he wanted to fix things that he always got a bit goofy when mom was PMSing.”

 

“I don’t follow.”

 

“He could feel some of what she was experiencing, but was unable to help. And being unable to help he did goofy things. Practical jokes. That was his kind of lashing out at things that were beyond his control. I always knew something was up when I’d see him ducking behind the bushes, giggling uncontrollably.”

 

“So what kind of stuff would he do?”

 

“Bad things. The lesser stuff were things like, making her French toast and putting baking powder instead of powdered sugar on the toast. The more severe was placing snakes inside of something she would have to open.”

 

“Poisonous? “

 

“I hope not. But anyway, sometimes…sometimes I’d see him hiding. He wasn’t just laughing, he was hurting too. It was all pretty sickening. And just being around it I got this really messed up sense of humor.”

 

“So what kind of stuff do you find funny?”

 

“Painful stuff, inappropriate stuff.”

 

“Like what?...Hey, what was that for?”