I’m a dead man. Humorless, forever somber, what I was supposed to be my entire life. But you know that, they all know that. The papers, the news, I’m dead world! But I wasn’t always dead, and I wasn’t always alive either. Ah yes, my first baby steps, one small step for man, one giant leap to comedy gold. Ha ha, you can keep that Armstrong, both of you. That stuff’s way too powerful. But yeah, I’m a comedian, or at least I was until my bones manifested into the meaningless microphone I’m using to tell this sob story. You could say I was pretty successful, because I made a ton of dough out there in my run. My child isn’t happy though, and I cry and cry and cry. Wait can you cry in your grave? Oh the future, what it could have been!
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Improv was her thing, and we got along well cuz we were both in the same business and all. Her gigs weren’t all that hot though, not like mine, but seemed to always have this air of impressionism rife with joyous bouts of holly that stuck with me. Little did I know, this was an improv act too, her whole life a spontaneous fixture, careless and combustible. Anyways, our love blossomed in the rich New York night scene, spent wasting away, mixing with the rough crowds. This isn’t really a romance though so I’m just gonna skip all that lovey dovey nonsense and say we got …show more content…
It didn’t end like that. And I’m not in the world anymore. So it happened, but no not on our anniversary or some other boring cliché. She pulled the plug on a normal Monday night, like any other Monday night. I came home from an interview with one of those late night gigs, and came home to a spectacularly moody scene. Dim lit, in the foreground, radiating with the hopes of a future lost, unable to laugh, cry, and talk, was my baby. Oh she was there too, but she was the sideshow, the carrier of my great possession, something that could be overlooked in the past. Yet now, in the center of it all, I realized now that she had taken away from me what I had longed for all my life, a
Improv was her thing, and we got along well cuz we were both in the same business and all. Her gigs weren’t all that hot though, not like mine, but seemed to always have this air of impressionism rife with joyous bouts of holly that stuck with me. Little did I know, this was an improv act too, her whole life a spontaneous fixture, careless and combustible. Anyways, our love blossomed in the rich New York night scene, spent wasting away, mixing with the rough crowds. This isn’t really a romance though so I’m just gonna skip all that lovey dovey nonsense and say we got …show more content…
It didn’t end like that. And I’m not in the world anymore. So it happened, but no not on our anniversary or some other boring cliché. She pulled the plug on a normal Monday night, like any other Monday night. I came home from an interview with one of those late night gigs, and came home to a spectacularly moody scene. Dim lit, in the foreground, radiating with the hopes of a future lost, unable to laugh, cry, and talk, was my baby. Oh she was there too, but she was the sideshow, the carrier of my great possession, something that could be overlooked in the past. Yet now, in the center of it all, I realized now that she had taken away from me what I had longed for all my life, a