I leave my callous sister's room and begin practicing my comedy routine. It has come to my attention (mostly by Lincoln telling me) that you out there in another dimension don't like my jokes and that there's at least 296 reasons why. But I hear you say, "But I like your jokes, Luan; You're the comedienne we know of right now." Well, to the 200,000 of you that feel that way…thank you, it means a lot. Even though I know that 50,000 subscribe to me on NashTelevideniye. The ADCP (American Democratic Communist Party) changed YouTube into наштелевидение, but I heard the communists say that "based Russian bots" have unpersoned anyone who refers to the site as NTTI or some corruption of it, even though it is an entity of communism. Not to worry though, tovarishes, you can still expect the same brand of comedy before the means of video production were seized.

"Who am I kidding, those 50,000 people think I'm a joke. Do you think I'm a joke, too, cosmic entities?"

Well, I know that you have better things to do with your own lives, so I'll just omit the parts that you don't care about.

I get all of my comedy stuff and head out to where the birthday kid is having their party at. Maybe I should have took Lincoln's offer to help me. No, I can do this by myself, after all the things I've made him do for me, across all of the gigs he helped with, he deserves a break.

Since I know most of you don't like my performances, I'll just skip to the part where a crack in the sky opens up and covers me with an iridescent glow.

"Woah…such cool special effects…"


I glance up at the what all the birthday kids were gawking at. There appears to be a large crack in the sky emanating a rainbow glow. My performance naturally made me cross directly under it. While the crowds were cheering initially, after about 5 minutes the crowd starts jeering.

"Boo!"

"You suck!"

"Why didn't the birthday kid get Kathy Griffin instead?"

"Yellow girl bad!"

"Chuck Schumer is a bigger joke than you, at least he's funny!"

"What's yellow and puts people to sleep? Not noxious gas, apparently!"

"How were 50,000 people braindead enough to like your comedy on NT?"

"I would rather blow Amy Schumer's vagina for an hour rather than waste money on you!"

Gross, but come on! Even though I make bad puns, there's no way that I could be worse than a political activist, right? You can vouch for me…right…three minutes later, they begin getting all sorts things to strangle me with. Wires, garrotes, jump ropes, nooses, bike chains, actual chains, pool noodles and even their bare hands.

"My hands are absolutely filthy."


Yeah…I may love making people laugh, but I'm not willing to die for a gig. I get on my unicycle and hightail it out of there. The strangulation mob begins to chase after me like a pack of NPCs running after a fat man eating Cheetos™. I eventually manage to lose them after taking an alternate street and removing my clown disguise. They said something about a pogo stick and the number 33, something about murder? I don't know, I was trying to not get killed. I eventually manage to make it back home.

"You're home early, how's the gig?"

"Oh, I couldn't keep 'em off me."

"Really?"

"Yep, my jokes are so bad, that people are literally trying to kill me for making them."

"Oh, my."

"Its like they were hungry like the wolves."

A rimshot is heard. A Luna approved musical reference.

"They were like feral beasts back there, stopping at nothing to kill me. I managed to ditch them, but I don't think I can go back out there anytime soon. I'll have to call the client and tell them about this."

"Strange, could this be what Sophia meant?"