This is not a script or indeed a sketch. A short story I did a while ago that I think I could possible work into a comedy drama when I get the time.
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It’s the way I tell ‘em:
As soon as I had done it I wished that I hadn’t. But it was too late, the damage was done and I could see that by the look on MD’s face that I was not about to be forgiven.
The evening had started fairly normally. I had arrived at the venue when they were all sitting down, tucking into chicken fricassee and potatoes dauphionoise. The organiser had met me as I got out of the car at the stage door.
“Danny! Lovely to meet you”
He had then shown me the dressing room and I had gone to ground there with a cup of coffee and a good book. At ten he knocked on my door and told me that they were ready for me. I looked in the mirror adjusted my tie and walked the 10 or so yards form the dressing room to the wings.
The organiser was at the mic and he saw me take up my position.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please put your hands together for Danny McKee!”
I walked on and started my act.
“Good evening ladies and gentlemen. It’s lovely to be here at the Bracknell Hilton"
*****
I generally don’t enjoy corporate jobs that much. They’re a bit dull and generally lack edge. Most of the audience are not really that keen on comedy, or if they are, then a company “do” does not make them all that receptive. You generally churn out a bit of topical stuff and add a few gags about the top brass, having first been primed by the organiser about what they are prepared to laugh about in front of their minions.
You then go on to "big the company up" before finishing your act, packing up and collecting the cheque, cash is better of course. Then it’s the lonely drive home, the late sarnie and bottle of beer trying to find something to watch on satellite at 3am.
But it was different that night.
*****
About half way through my act I got the gun out and started to wave it around. That got their attention all right. There were some nervous giggles and some looks of genuine alarm. Somebody got up and tried to leave.
“Sit down or I’ll shoot!” I shouted, my voice booming out from the PA.
The guy who had stood up sat down quickly, knocking over a bottle of wine in the process. You could see it. They were unsure if this was real or a bluff. But I had the mic. I was in charge and for whatever reason nobody was going to take a chance. Maybe I was just giving an Oscar winning performance.
I had them in the palm of my hand now.
“He’s bluffing it’s a replica” shouted out somebody.
“I don’t think so my friend. Are you feeling lucky punk?” I’d always wanted to say that.
I pointed the gun towards the heckler and he ducked below his table.
I then carried on with my act telling all my usual gags. It went better than normal. Each joke was rewarded with a howl of laughter, whilst all the time I waved the gun around in a threatening manner. I immediately began to appreciate the advantages of a double act. The gun and I were going down a storm.
Looking out from the stage people seemed to be unsure what was happening, some looked frightened and others bemused. But still no heroes out there.
I decided to move to the climax of the performance.
“You know ladies and gentlemen, there’s an old saying about the tears of a clown. I wonder if you’ve heard of it?” I paused. You could have heard a pin drop.
“Well this particular clown has shed a few. I’m in a bad way ladies and gents, oh yes. My girlfriend’s left me and I can’t make ends meet as a comedian”.
“Not bloody surprised with an act like that” somebody risked a heckle.
I nearly smiled but just held it together.
“There’s also a showbiz expression about dying on stage. Well ladies and gentlemen you can always tell your friends about the night you saw Danny McKee die on stage”
I dropped to my knees and held the gun a few inches away from my temple.
“Goodbye cruel world” A bit hammy but seemed to fit the moment.
I squeezed the trigger. There were screams from the audience. The little square of material sprung out of the barrel of the gun before unfurling to reveal the word “bang”.
All hell broke loose.
I was grabbed by a couple of guys and knocked to the ground as I tried to get up. The MD of the company bent down and whispered in my ear. He didn’t want to make a scene but he had failed to notice that there already was one.
“The police will be here to deal with you soon. You idiot!”
“Still you gotta laugh" I said. "Any chance of cash instead of a cheque?”
(End)
