Imaginary Stand up Comedy Monologue II

This entry was actually written in June 2004, well predating the previously posted monologue. It's an idea long coming, and an idea I'll explain in awhile.

Hi! My name is Heath, and I'll be your comedian this evening. We've got a couple of specials tonight that you might like to know about. One is jokes that are funny. OK. We seem to be all out of that.

I want to thank you for coming to the show tonight. One, because it makes me feel like this is my show. And that you came to see me. Chances are good that you came to see someone else -- which would make me sad. Or maybe you came to see nobody in particular -- just because.

Maybe your friends signed you up when they were here, and you won some free tickets. If that's the case, we all win. The club owner's happy; hey, the place looks popular! You're happy; hey, free ticket! Score! Your friend's happy; finally, it's payback time. And I'm happy; home-field advantage. This ain't no piano recital.

If this were a piano recital, it'd be a cakewalk. You'd have to be here! You'd be my parents. You'd be my teacher. You'd be the saintly, anonymous donor who paid for my piano lessons -- yeah, thank you very much, Mrs. Johnson. But the point is this: Even if you had something better to do right here right now, you'd have to be here. Ha ha!

Regardless of whether I struggle and stumble through some complicated -- yet charmingly playful -- Scott Joplin BS or insist on playing "Barnacle Bill the Sailor" for the next 10 minutes, you're stuck. This stage is my piano bench. Saddle up!

I also want to thank you because I'm a relatively new comedian. You see, I decided to become a comic, well, OK, yesterday. Seriously! Listen! There I was, at home, on the futon, watching the TV, and checking out "Last Comic Standing."

Have you seen that show? No? Jay Mohr? No? Ouch. Anyway, the title says it all. And yesterday, I decided, you know what? That's what I want to be. No. No, it's not. Because if it's anything like that Sidney Poitier movie about the last man on Earth, I don't know. Yeah. Yeah, I do. That would suck!

Who would laugh at you? To have an audience, you'd have to be at least the second to last person standing. And unless you were really, really funny, you'd want even more people there. I don't know, the 23rd person standing? It kind of increases the odds of being funnier than the other people, you know?

Anyway, other people. My time's almost up. Before I go, I want to comment on a current event that's got me all riled up. The war in Iraq? No. The circle jerk over Ronald Reagan's coffin? No. Two words: Mr. Softee. You see, in New York, they want to outlaw ice cream trucks because of the noise. Because of the noise!

I want to outlaw ice cream trucks not because of the noise but because of the negative impact they have on today's youth. I'm not talking about fat kids. We have enough of those. I'm talking about the lyrical content of the Mr. Softee song: Barnacle Bill the Sailor. Let's go to the tape:

"Who's that knocking at my door, cried the fair young lady. It's only me from over the sea; I'm Barnacle Bill the Sailor. I'm old and rough and dirty and tough; I'm Barnacle Bill the Sailor. Hurry before I bust the door; I'm Barnacle Bill the Sailor. I got me a wife in every port, said Barnacle Bill the Sailor."

Are there any fathers in the house? I scream, you scream, we all scream.

I think that's it. No. One more thing:

I love you.