I have seen it all now.
There is nothing quite so interesting as a homeless comic.
I have been on the writing team for a sketch comedy show for the last few months and I want to join the performance cast next season.
But to do that, I need to have more time on stage.
So, I have been looking into spoken word writers venues.
However these are few and far between.
But, open mic stand up comedy is far easier to find.
So, although it is not something I was wanting to do, I am going to do stand up.
And there is a certain amount of ass-pucker factor involved.
So, I found a venue in Hollywood that does open mic.
I figured a well known comedy club would be just the place to open mic and also see some decent comedy.
That turned out to be TOTALLY wrong, but we’ll get to that.
I had a few drinks at the bar, all the better to be loud and obnoxious.
The crowd was an interesting mix of the guys that seemed like a pretty diverse cross section of humanity.
A shocking amount of the crowd reeked of pot.
And while i realize everyone may have had their Kush cards up to date, there was a certain grubbiness to them that was more than a little gross.
Sorry, call me a prude, but there is such an element of trashiness to pot.
Anyway, the guy running it was kind of a combination of the boys in the hood meets a dyslexic frat boy, hat sideways and all.
They began pulling names out of a bucket.
The first 5 guys up were an interest mix of people, but they all shared the same trait.
None of them remembered their act.
Working off of notes written on cell phones, they stumbled thru 3 minutes of act until they got the light.
The light means your time is up.
And most of them bitched about getting the light.
So much so, that one of them muttered “Fuck you” to the MC before he left the stage.
And then, the MC announced a name that sounded like “Trey-Jo”.
It might have been something else, but the MC was having a really hard time with it.
Trey-Jo was about 5’8 and in his 50s.
Scruffy was an understatement for this guy.
His beard was at that 5 day growth stage that is way beyond 5 o’clock shadow but just shy of actually being able to call it a beard.
He also smelled like pot, with an underlying odor that I only pick up on as he passed my seat on the way to the stage.
Urine and BO.
I can recognize a homeless guy quicker than most, how the hell did I miss this guy?
He cleared his throat and took a look at the audience, like he was sizing us up.
What followed was 3 minutes of the most convoluted, twisted, conspiracy laden tales that used the word “Fuck” liberally.
It was awesome.
Half of the audience just stared in total bewilderment, while the rest of us got it and laughed our asses off.
And this whole thing was free.
I was honestly disappointed when he left the stage.
It was like a crazed, demented Elvis, leaving the building.
And, sadly, when it was all over, I never got called up.
I settled my bar tab and headed out.
As I was getting into my car from my awesome parking space across the street, I saw Trey-Jo walking down the street right next to my car.
Pushing a shopping cart.
Man, do I love it when I nail the situation.