litlinks 2021

The Funny Guy

by Kane Lawson, Namadgi School

With his order placed, the old man chose a small booth at the end of the cafe. Despite belonging to such an old establishment, the seats weren’t particularly faded and still gave off the same warm feeling that they always had. Paired with the smell of freshly brewed coffee nearby, the slightly cramped cafe held a cosy air, sheltering those inside from the unwelcoming rain beyond its thick doors.

Pitter patter. Pitter patter.

The old man gazed past the droplets of water coating the booth’s window and looked into the thick storm beyond. While the sound of rain, partially muffled by the walls, would normally bring most patrons an almost therapeutic comfort, it reminded him of the decade-long lockdown when the weather was the only indicator that there was a world outside. Those were not fond recollections.

But left with only the constant pattering outside for company, he couldn’t help but be drawn back to his younger days.

The old man didn’t have a great memory but knew that sometime during his teenage years he had become ‘the funny guy’; though he supposed that the title ‘class clown’ was more accurate for the time. He lived to tell offensive jokes, sing idiotic songs, and mock the school in exchange for the stream of attention and recognition his peers awarded him. He had found his talent.

Look at me, he would think. Praise me! Accept me! Love me! Want to be around me! Want to be like me!

Of course, his role came with expectations to always be witty, and more often than he’d like, people wouldn’t take him seriously. His ability to befriend just about anyone also meant that it was difficult to get close, leaving him unfamiliar to the warmth of a best friend. But that didn’t bother him. He was getting more attention than he ever would with only one or two people, right?

Shortly after finishing his education, the funny guy joined the entertainment industry and became a comic. He flashed back to the first time he stepped up on a stage professionally. Powerful lights beamed on him, blinding him from the countless audience members. He was terrified but somehow felt more alive than ever. This time he made the offensive jokes, wrote the controversial songs, and thought up the comedic quotes, all for his audience. Anything for his audience.

It only took a few performances for the funny guy to try to please them, no matter the cost. Even if he didn’t believe in what he was saying. Even if he wasn’t being true to himself. Even if these performances were starting to give him panic attacks. The audience came first.

He knew then that if attention was a drug, he was an addict. And sooner or later he was going to overdose.

When the pandemic first struck and lockdown was initiated, everything suddenly grew quiet. The cacophony that was growing inside his head ever since he stepped on stage was unusually silent.

Maybe, he thought, maybe this is a good opportunity. With no one around, I can work on improving myself mentally. When I go back, I’ll be able to deal with the stress of stepping onstage. No one is here to look at me and judge me; so maybe, just maybe, I might be able to be… me for a while.

For the next two years, the funny guy worked on strengthening his mental state. But it was lonely. Deeply, painfully lonely. Without close friends, he found it hard to talk to anyone but his family. Yet, all he could do was wait for lockdown to end.

However, another year passed. Then another. The pandemic was showing no signs of ending soon. Rather than listen to the depressing news on his TV, the funny guy would lose himself on the internet.

The internet? Huh. Sure, it might not be stand-up, but maybe I can do things there. Hell, if I don’t have to worry about panic attacks then it might be my type of crowd.

He looked around his room. It wasn’t especially spacious, but its shape was ideal for cameras, lighting, microphones, and everything else he would need to create a performance. He decided he would create a special here, in this room.

He bought various lighting machines. He set up countless cameras. He tested different microphones. He was ready to go online.

The funny guy hit the record button, stretched his neck, and adjusted the microphone, putting it near his mouth.

“Hi everybody. Have you missed me? I’m going to be trying something different for this special. What with the world outside, it will only be me and my camera, and you and your screen just as…”

The room remained silent.

Closing the bathroom door, he stumbled through the dimly lit hallway back to the living room, careful not to trip over the plethora of wires, cameras, and light switches that he just couldn’t seem to get rid of. Still half asleep, he pulled the heavy blankets up and crawled back into his makeshift bed on the floor. Once he was completely covered, he searched the darkness for a familiar object.

Aaah. There it is.

Phone tightly grasped in his hand, he wiggled back into his favourite comfort position and scrolled through the popular section of today’s feed.

He didn’t want to tell jokes anymore. How could he? No one was laughing in the background.

The old man sighed. His whole life, he had been shackled by his desperate need for attention. Even when it grew big enough to give him crippling anxiety, he didn’t struggle. But with the suffocating isolation that came with lockdown, he had suddenly found himself deprived of it all. Yet, it took him trying to perform to an audience that wasn’t there, for him to stop.

But, he thought looking back at the window, it’s over now.

With the rain clearing up, he stood up and picked up his umbrella. Stopping only at the entrance to straighten his coat, the old man left the cafe and walked down the street.

“That’ll do!” the director exclaimed joyfully. The cameraman following the old man lowered his equipment and let out a deep breath before joining the rest of the film crew in applauding the old man’s acting.

Yeah, he remembered. This is definitely my type of crowd.