"I tell you, these days nothing makes sense. You used to have to pay to see naked girls dance, now I have to pay to not see them when I click on a website!"
A wave of laughter rolls through the audience, the two-drink minimum making sure that no matter what you say it'll get a good laugh at the very least.
"Speaking of naked girls dancing, you guys hear about that K/DA thing? How the Hell do you start a song with "you know who it is"? No, I don't know! It's your first song, I have no idea who you are."
The man on stage began to pace around as he went on his tangent.
"Now I guess you've heard the news, one of those singing broads, the one with the claws; Eve's her name, right?"
"Get to the joke alreadyyyy!" - A heckler cried.
"Don't tell me how to do my job, lady. I don't come to your corner and tell you how to suck cock" he replied.
The audience burst into laughter at the slick reply.
Brushing it off, he continued, "Anyways, so we know she got acquitted in that case about who murdered her boyfriend, right? Get this, in an interview yesterday she said 'I loved James and I always will. I would have jumped in front of a train for him.'"
He swayed his hips mockingly as he put on a falsetto voice, which could not have been further from Evelynn's voice.
"Isn't that the worst luck in the world? When the one person who would die for you..."
A dramatic pause for effect.
"Kills you."
Laughs fill the venue again, as the band plays a smooth outro.
"That's all for tonight, folks. Thank you for coming out to the Comedy Cellar. I'll be here every weekend at 9, see you next time."
Having finished his show, Alex rode the bus home. Turns out dad was right, being a stand-up comedian full-time does not pay that well. 'Keep that in mind for the next set, maybe mention about how I'll have to try mugging people?'
He shook his head to push away sleep, staring out the bus window as it passed by streetlights at a fixed pace. With the late night bus empty except for him, he was free to lay on the seats as he wished; his 6'4 frame occupying 3 seats even with his knees pulled up.
The bus got to his stop finally. Just on the edge of town, past the bridge. Alex's own one-floor studio shithole stared back at him as he patted his pockets to find the key for his door.
A cigarette was in order to chase away his buzz long enough to actually find his key which could be in any of the 7 pockets his weary bomber jacket and jeans had combined. Thumbing the pack - of Lucky Strikes - open, he pulled one out with his teeth and lit it up with a generic convenience store lighter.
An idle strand of his somewhat long brown hair fell into his eyes as he was leaned against the wall. Alex tugged it to the side, the strand just long enough to get caught behind his ear and stay there.
3 minutes passed, he flicked the cigarette butt to the ground and stomped on it. The key fit snugly into the lock, turning rightwards and opening the door.
He stepped in, turned his back to the hallway to close and lock his door then promptly received blunt trauma to the back of the head by a much shorter person he had not noticed - falling to the ground like a sack of miserable potatoes.