I get my first laugh when I'm eight years old, in class. I slipped a joy buzzer onto the teachers seat before class. They don't know it was me. That makes it better. It's a secret. I decide to make people laugh again.
I'm fifteen years old, working in some dive. I do some stand-up, but mostly I work behind the bar. I get the occasional laugh, but nothing like that first laugh. Nothing will ever equal that first laugh.
I work here to get out of the house. To get away from the arguing. Mom thinks my dad is a lazy bastard, and dad is… well, dad's dad. Its been bad since my sister died last year. Cot death, the doctor said.
My fault. All my fault. I left her alone so I could hang out with the guys, maybe get a few chucks. I didn't know. I didn't fucking know!
There's some drunk asking for another. When I refuse, he slices my cheeks open, then goes for my chest. I spend two weeks in hospital, getting my face stitched back together. He spends the next five years in prison. I hear he got beat pretty bad in there.
Good.
My mom dies two weeks shy of my eighteenth birthday. Dad hangs around another three years, two weeks and three days. I spend my 21st birthday in hospital with him. I spend my twenty second at his graveside.
I get a crappy job at some chemical plant. Manufacturing napalm, before it gets outlawed. Doesn't mean we stop production. Money to be made. This morning, there was an accident. Some idiot dropped a cigarette. Damn near took my face off. Joannie hates me doing this. That's one reason why we fight. Ever since I got her pregnant, she's hated me more and more.
I celebrate my twenty fifth birthday with my daughter, Angie. Joannie seems happier now. Or maybe she's just better at hiding it. I lost my job last month. I try stand up to make money. It doesn't work.
Mikey says he knows a guy who can help me. Calls himself the Red Hood. Said he pays well. Maybe I'll look him up.