A Stand-Up Routine Performed For No One
(Lights up on an empty stage in the basement of a dive bar with no name. Soft piano music plays from nowhere in particular. The lights are dim and the drinks are watery, but it’s a full house tonight. The anticipation in the room is palpable. Suddenly, the piano stops. The room buzzes. Finally, Lauren appears on stage and the crowd erupts in applause. She’s wearing a crisp black suit with her hair slicked back. Dark red lipstick and sharp black eyeliner paint her face. She sets a hefty glass of red wine down at her feet. She picks up the mic. It’s corded.)
Good evening, ladies and gentlemen! Thank you so much for coming out tonight, I’m Lauren *****-
(She gets cut off by another eruption of applause after saying her name.)
Wow, okay. So, you guys know who I am. Stunning. We’ve got a great show planned for you tonight and I think we’re all gonna have a lot of fun, so let’s get right to it!
December of 2020 was hands down the worst month of my life. At least so far. I know that was a terrible time for a lot of people, and I’m not trying to outdo anyone or anything, but also, I am. All at once, I was realizing I was a lesbian, dealing with some intense stomach
problems, and working at Chick-fil-A during a pandemic. Oh, and then my dog died.
For those of you who haven’t had the pleasure of experiencing this, let me tell you about a little something called the Lesbian Masterdoc. The Lesbian Masterdoc is a public Google Doc that was created by lesbians who are sure they’re lesbians to help lesbians who aren’t sure they’re lesbians realize they’re definitely lesbians. I was pretty sure I was gay at this point, but this document really solidified things for me. The most devastating takeaway from this particular piece of literature is that liking Harry Styles and a select collection of fictional men, namely Tobias Eaton and Levi Ackerman, doesn’t make you bisexual. If this is news to anyone, I’m very sorry to break it to you and I wish you luck on your journey.
Even more fun than the sexuality crisis was being diagnosed with IBS. I don’t know what I expected this process to be like, but I was a bit surprised to find myself scooping my own poop into seven different bottles. To make this even more exciting, the same night I’m filling these bottles, my older brother says to my mom and I “Hey, I’m gonna have like, seven friends over.” Oh, perfect. One bottle for each of them. The other thing I did not expect was having to store said poop in my fridge. When your brother’s having seven friends over, are you supposed to warn him that there’s a good amount of your shit in the fridge? Like, what’s the proper etiquette on that?
I shouldn’t need to tell you that working at a Chick-fil-A in a conservative town during a pandemic was a bit rough for me, but just in case, it was a bit rough for me. There was a lot going on in the world and in my head and I once accidentally let someone drive away without paying for a fifty-dollar order. My only justification was, “Listen, I’m juggling a lot right now. I’ve got the Lesbian Masterdoc in one hand and a bag of my own shit in the other.”
(Applause.)
I love the idea of being a villain. I don’t know what it is, but the aesthetic of being evil is just very sexy to me. I’m not a villain, of course. The worst thing I’ve ever done is probably illegally turned right on red or something like that. And I bet I cried about it later. But I certainly have enough villain origin stories to be one. I’ve got a whole list. Where to begin? Not making the cheerleading team in middle school because I wasn’t skinny even though I was the only one who could do a back handspring. Working a whole shift at a Cold Stone and then being ghosted by the manager and never getting paid for it. Being cast as Gaston in Beauty and the Beast when I wanted to be Belle. Yeah, that’s right. I auditioned to be Belle, my favorite Disney princess and instead got cast as GASTON. Now, I don’t mean to blame community theatre for the way I turned out, but also, I do. I mean, that’ll mess a kid up! Thinking you’re gonna get to twirl around in the pretty yellow dress and instead having to wear a goddamn muscle suit and draw on fake chest hair with eyeliner? That did some damage! And that wasn’t a singular occurrence, either. I was consistently cast as men throughout my childhood theatre career. That’s what happens when you’re a medium-ugly brunette alto with the basic ability to deliver a punchline. They tell you you’re “the only one who can pull it off.” And it leads to some confusing experiences. Constantly being cast as men meant me constantly pretending to be attracted to women during my adolescence. It’s really no surprise that I ended up being gay. I didn’t do this to myself- the lack of male actors present in the Mooresville community theatre scene did it to me. Somebody tell that to my mom- maybe she’ll buy it.
One of the few times I actually got to play a woman in a show was in middle school when I was cast as Viola in Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night. If you’re not familiar with the plot of Twelfth Night, Viola disguises herself as a man and then a woman named Olivia mistakenly falls in love with her because she thinks Viola is a boy. (Lauren pauses and pretends to think deeply) Hmm. So, even when I am a girl, I’m still dressed like a boy and have women fawning over me? What’s that thing they say? “Art imitates life?” Yeah.
(Applause. Lauren picks up the glass of wine from her feet and takes a swig. Someone from the
crowd calls out, “Aren’t you twenty?”)
Hey, now. I won’t tell you if don’t.
(More applause.)
So, by now you know that I’m a gay theatre kid. That’s a pretty insufferable flavor of person to be. (hesitant giggles from the audience) Don’t worry, you can agree with me. I hate most gay theatre kids, too. They’re way too much, all the time. There’s absolutely no reason to behave like that in a waffle house, ever. The waitresses that serve the theatre kids after their shows when they’re standing on tables and singing their goddamn show tunes in public with no shame are absolutely braver than the troops.
(Applause.)
I’m pretty sure I hate myself, but I also sometimes worry that I might be a bit of a narcissist. In fact, I think all gay people might sort of be narcissists. (an audience member groans loudly) Look, I’m sorry if you’re tired of me talking about being gay. I’m sick of it too. It just happens to be the most interesting thing about me at the moment, so I’m gonna keep milking it and getting as much attention as possible. As soon as I figure out another personality trait, I’ll let you know. But anyway, I think we should consider the possibility that a lot of gay people might actually just be narcissists who wish they could date themselves. The Lesbian Masterdoc didn’t prepare me for this realization. I’ve had to navigate this issue on my own, without any guidance from my lesbian protectors. I mean, I love my girlfriend very much. She’s amazing. But she’s also a depressed Taurus with short brown hair and green eyes who wears blazers and likes Taylor Swift. (the laughter builds as the audience takes in Lauren’s appearance) What am I supposed to do with that? Whoever said “opposites attract” has clearly never met a gay person. (Applause.)
Oh, thank you, thank you.
(Lauren scans the crowd.)
Don’t you just hate it when comedians pick on someone in the audience? It’s like, you guys didn’t come here to be fucked with, you came here to watch a show! It’s so obnoxious when they do that! The phrase, “Can I get a volunteer from the audience?” genuinely creates more panic in a room than yelling “Fire!” Go ahead, blow the place up. As long as I don’t have to get onstage. Anyway, (Lauren points to a man sitting near the front) what’s your name? (audience groans) Oh, you guys thought you were safe, huh? Of course, not! This is the one time in my stupid life that I have any sort of power! (Lauren looks back at the man) So, what’s your name? (he answers, “Chad”) Sorry, did you say “Chad?” (the man nods) Chad is one of those names that no one is ever actually named. Like it is a name, but it also absolutely isn’t. Chad is the name you use when you’re writing, like, a comedy sketch or something and you need a name for the idiot man character. (Chad puts his head in his hands) Sorry, Chad, am I embarrassing you? (Chad says something incomprehensible) I can’t fucking hear you, Chad, you’re gonna have to speak up. (Chad speaks again, but still too quietly) I still can’t hear you, man. Haven’t you ever heard of projecting? No? Show business is evidently not for you. That’s why I’m up here and you’re down there. Let’s keep it that way and get a move on. I hope you enjoyed this obligatory audience interaction.
(Applause, especially loud from Chad’s wife, who was eating that bit up.)
I feel like we know each other pretty well at this point, so I’m gonna let you in on something even more embarrassing than the theatre kid thing. I also do improv. Currently. Like, now. As an adult person. And not only do I do improv, but I’m the goddamn president of the troupe. I was literally elected Head Clown.
(Laughter and clapping.)
I always sound pretentious and annoying when I complain about this, but just hear me out for a second. It is really rough having your default descriptor be “funny.” (audience groans) No, no, hear me out, goddammit! The first thing people always say when they’re describing me is “Oh, Lauren? Yeah, she’s really funny.” I’m not saying that isn’t a compliment. Obviously, I’m rather fond of the fact that people think I’m funny. (Lauren gestures to the stage) Hence all this. I’m just saying that always being described this way does something to you. You hear it over and over again until you finally latch onto it, whether you really want that to be your thing or not. You become the Clown Friend.
What does it mean to be the Clown Friend? Being the clown friend means saluting every time someone says, “general idea” or “major problem.” Being the Clown Friend means always needing to have a line ready to cheer up your friends when they’re having a bad day. Being the Clown Friend means being asked, “What’s wrong?” every time you’re a tad bit quieter than usual. Being the Clown Friend means you can’t ever be sad.
(Lauren stops talking, caught up in her thoughts. She seems surprised by herself. It’s unclear whether or not these last few lines were a scripted part of her routine. After a moment, she snaps out of it.)
For a fiction writing class, I was in last year, we had to write two stories during the semester. For my first story, I wrote a very sophisticated piece about a girl with severe depression and anxiety, it definitely wasn’t based on me or anything, and my class didn’t love it. Their response to it was just kind of “ehhh.” I thought it was deep and really profound, so this pissed me off. I didn’t have it in me to try to be eloquent again, so for my second story, I wrote a goofy thing about a guy having to switch pants with a stranger before a job interview. It was dumb. And you know what? Those bitches ate it up! They couldn’t get enough of it! Because that’s the thing about being the Clown Friend: they don’t like it when you switch it up for a second and try to be serious. It sets everyone on edge. They see you all dressed up for once and they’re like “What? No! I don’t care that your dog died. Go put the clown pants back on!”
(Lauren rips off her tearaway suit pants to reveal polka dot clown pants. The audience goes wild.)
It’s exhausting, but alas. Someone has to do it. And they told me I was the only one who could pull it off.
Thank you.
(An immediate standing ovation from the audience. Lauren takes a quick bow and exits. The applause continues. After a few minutes of cheering, Lauren comes back on stage, wearing suit pants again. She’s working the crowd with the same enthusiasm as before, but her temperament is a bit different from when she first came out on stage. Her mind seems to be somewhere else.)
Did you guys really think I was done? Of course not! God, I love fucking with you guys. We’re done when I say we’re done, and not a minute sooner.
I’m a big fan of the band AJR. They have a song that goes, “one hundred bad days make one hundred good stories, one hundred good stories make me interesting at parties.” I’ve sort of made this my life motto. It’s so useful for managing misfortune! When something bad happens to me, I immediately find a way to make it funny. That way, I still get something out of it. If I’m experiencing excruciating pain on a daily basis because of undiagnosed IBS and having to run out of rooms to go shit my brains out, yeah that sucks, but at least you’re laughing. That’s all the clown friend cares about!
(Laughter. Lauren pauses. She sits down on the edge of the stage. She’s extremely close to the audience now.)
Can I be real with you guys for a second?
(A few audience members begin to trickle out the door. It slams loudly behind them. Lauren ignores it.)
Life has been hard lately. Harder than I think a lot of us ever imagined it could be.
(More audience members get up to leave.)
I’m depressed and it seems like pretty much everyone else around me is depressed, too.
(There is now a steady stream of people leaving. Lauren can’t ignore it anymore. She begins to lose her cool.)
C’mon, guys, really? Really?
(No one reacts.)
God, I can’t believe it’s happening AGAIN.
(Lauren yells over the slamming door and mutters of the people leaving.)
It sucks having to watch so many people not enjoy life! And to not enjoy it yourself most days!
(The few remaining audience members stare up at her expectantly.)
I don’t have a joke for that one. Sorry to disappoint. I guess I’ll have to keep thinking and get back to you.
(Lauren stands up and walks back to center stage. She stares at her audience, or at least, what’s left of it. There seems to be something more she wants to say but thinks better of it.)
I’m Lauren *****. Thanks for coming out tonight.
(Scattered claps. Lauren exits.)
(Blackout.)
Lauren Flors is a senior at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. She is double-majoring in English & Comparative Literature and Dramatic Art and minoring in Creative Writing. Lauren enjoys writing both fiction stories and creative nonfiction essays. When she isn’t writing, she can likely be found goofing around with the Chapel Hill Players (CHiPs), an improv and sketch comedy group at UNC. In the future, Lauren dreams of writing full-time and publishing her great queer coming-of-age novel.