Being Funny
I ran into someone who is a fan of my work. I know! Such a rarity to have someone I've entertained instead of annoyed in front of me. I didn't know the person but they turned out to have been reading my crap for years. After the newness of asking questions and listening to stories things became more relaxed and a conversation occurred.
During that conversation she asked, "Is everyone in your family funny?"
Although I'd never been asked that question before the answer was rapid and precise, "No." I could tell she wanted more so I went with, "There wasn't a raucous midway all over the house. It was sort of like a one-armed wallpaper hanger standing on a ladder in quicksand deciding the best way to escape over a floor littered with landmines."
"Oh, so you were the comic relief."
I was the comic relief. I guess. But there are all types of comedy. Some witty and verbose (not the most admiring family for that type of kerfuffle) some leaning more towards slap stick (by that I mean entertaining folks by getting slapped with sticks. Always a crowd pleaser around the hearth).
But making your family laugh at your folly is one thing. Making your friends laugh is also quite easy. Who among us hasn't made friends cry in laughter? Or pain when you push them down the stairs to create laughter from your other friends. I hadn't really thought of being funny as a kid. But there were two times that stand out where I could take the weird ass thoughts in my head and entertain out of my quadrant.
The first was still an audience of my peers. There was a summers end festive going on thrown by the city. Everyone was asked to put together a little skit or sing a little ditty or pull off some amazing feat of legerdemain. Kids from all around the city showed up. Some with entourage in tow because they were the bright star of the neighborhood. Others, like us, were there for the free food.
While sitting there eating our sixth bologna sandwich (I never said it was good food) a girl in the group decided that we must do something. So we put our heads together and came up with an idea.
"Hey Chris, you write stuff. Write something."
They got that wild idea because I won an end of school city wide writing contest. The mayor presented me and the other age group winners with the award himself. It was a pretty big deal if what my teacher said was true. But this was something different. I wasn't tasked to write a tale of a young boys existential angst over a lost ball game (I was only 10 after all) but asked to write something my friends could act in.
But hey! I'd seen the 'let's put on a show' movies. They make it look so easy. Let me tell you, those movies were bold faced lies. Before you can make a show you have to write it; before you write it you have to think of it; before you think of it you have to have time to ruminate; before you ruminate you have to get your gawd damn friends to stop breathing down your neck!
I took my cast into consideration. Neighborhood idiots. Okay, no big words. During the first run through they couldn't keep their lines straight. Okay, not many words. I rewrote it with this thought in mind,
"Can I do this without words?"
Then I had an inspiration. It came in the form of divine intervention in the form of a great scripture: Mad magazine.
Mad did commercial parodies. That might work. So I started to think of commercials. I had five kids when I started to work on it. By the time I had my first idea it was down to three because two kids got bored so decided to leave to throw bugs into spider webs.
Then it dawned on me. I asked one boy if he'd be a dog. It took a little convincing but I think I won him over when I mentioned his sister would be walking him and he'd get to wear a leash. Thinking back on it who knows if this lead him into a life of bondage and for that I apologize. Or accept his thanks depending on how it all worked out for him.
I don't remember it perfectly but the gist of it is she walked the dog over to a food bowl where he ate and then rolled over and died while the third boy read the script from a piece of paper because that no memory having toad couldn't remember the words.
He read it, the dog ate, the girl petted the dog while it ate and, at the exact line he was supposed to, the dog rolled over and died to gales of laughter raining down upon them. I was standing in the back picking apart the flaws not only in the performances (I must say the dog was very convincing) but the dialog. I could have cut out that word, that phrase would have been tighter juxtaposed, the payoff should have been snappier.
I'll fix it in rewrite.
But there was no rewrite. It was a one-time showing and that pretty much was enough. I saw the flaws but they laughed. They all laughed. People who knew I wrote it said nice things to me. The cast bathed in the glow of being the best act on the show. Pissing off this group of young, sullen Irish step dancers who'd been practicing for this day their entire lives. But hey, you never know what the audience is going to dig.
And they dug poisoning dogs.
The second time I got an audience to laugh was an audience of adults. Parents of the imps on stage but adults nonetheless. I know this is going to be hard to believe but, for a short time, I was a Cub Scout. We'd do all the Cub Scouty things like sit in this ladies living room and do dumb things until she'd send us to her postage stamp sized backyard (that was how she got to be den mother of the troop. She had the only house with a backyard) to beat each other senseless while she downed a few shots to calm her nerves.
One day she announced that all the dens in the city were going to perform. This was met with the proper level of disdain. What were we going to do? Our only talents were beating each other up. And although some of the parents were sure to like that I'm sure the national organization would frown upon such a thing. Yes, even all those years ago.
She stated that we were going to do a play. Groans. It had to feature everyone. Whines. It couldn't include violence. Utter dismay. And each of us was going to write one and the best one would be performed. I can't speak for any of my scout mates but at this time, fresh from the previous summers smash commercial success, I knew I had this in the bag.
"And the theme," den mother said. "Is going to be a prince and princess falling in love."
"Whatyoutalkingabout, den mother?" I'm sure we all would have said if the show of that catchphrase had been invented at that time.
But we had no choice so we sulked home to see what we could steal. I knew there was little wiggle room. We were all going to come up with the same plot. I figured she'd just edit them all together and make something parents would politely applaud and be quickly forgotten. But if I'm going to have my name on something I was going to have to make it mine.
Whatever that meant.
Then I got it. I'd mix the old trope of prince meets princess, princess rebuffs prince, prince pulls a thorn out of the princesses foot, and they limp off happily. Or maybe something less lethal. But whatever it was she picked my script. She told everyone she choose mine because I had a surprising twist ending. I didn't know what that meant but I figured out it must have been about that twist I put at the end to surprise everyone.
We rehearsed most of the performance but we didn't do the ending. The den mother didn't want to spoil it. I thought that was weird but, looking back, she was right because those other scouts would have spoiled the ending. The only people who knew were the den mother, me (who played the prince) and the scout who would play the princess. I will say that I was a small prince and the princess was the largest scout in the troop. The other scouts thought that was the funny part. A huge princess and the tiny prince. And that alone got some laughs but that wasn't the shocking ending.
The night of the performance we went into it full force. Everyone did their part. Laughs came at the right spots, groans did too. One of the running gags was my trying to move the princess. I danced and he stood there. I tried to lead him across the stage and I ended up getting yanked back. Very physical comedy on my part.
Then came the time when the prince has to take the princess and carry her off into the sunset.
I know what you're thinking, "You spent the next year in the hospital, right?"
No and the only reason was the twist ending.
At that time a big show on TV was 'Get Smart' and in that show they had a catchphrase that I stole. So apologies to the great Buck Henry.
I grabbed the large princess and started to lift when he took over, lifted me easily and started walking away while saying,
"Sorry about that, Chief."
And the house crumbled. Laughter, applause, visible relief from my mother and the princesses parents.
We were later told about halfway through people started to think ahead and became concerned that I was going to try to pick up the other kid. And not one person came up with my solution. a roomful of adults and I was the only one who came up with the 'sorry about that, chief' gambit.
That's when I knew I could be funny.
