The Crab Man Chapter 6
I found myself constantly failing by laughing at my own jokes. Self control was always so hard for a schizophrenic like me. I’m very jealous of Eddie.
He’s a people person and people like him. When he intercepted a special document meant to be delivered to the “Original” Spyder Woman that was the straw that broke the camels back to evoke my madness. But that didn’t mean that was the only reason I was coming for the Crab Man. I was as jealous as they come.
It was rivalry is what it was and even though Eddie wasn’t in the same league as that Chapelle guy I knew deep down he was ten times better than me. And all those bitches he always got? Hmph! Why lie.
I was jealous of that too. The only thing I had not to be jealous of Eddie was his money. I flourished in that department. But that didn’t stop my nightmares I had almost every night of him using them giant pincher claws of his to dig up my terrorists funds. He may act like he doesn’t know me but I swear he’s the only person on this planet that has managed to successfully get inside my head. I will have much work for the Crab Man if he has any intentions of being a Super Hero. I’m gonna have his entire city begging at their knees.
I looked at my audience as I tried to hold the microphone just right. Not too close to my mouth but not too far away either. I had to figure out how to woo my audience. I am a firm believer that practice makes perfect. It’s actually the number one mantra that I live by. I made a point not to stand in one spot so that I could keep all 20 of my audience's undivided attention.
I looked around at my audience as I fished for something funny to say.
“Does any of you old schoolers remember the Penis game we used to play in church?”
The crowd was quiet. Bobbie Jo even refused to look at me. I hated that bitch. I’ve tried so many years to give her a black eye but I keep forgetting because I’m schizophrenic and all that she’s made out of porcelain. in fact all twenty of my guests are but it never really seems to sink in as my persecutory delusions leave me easily fooled.
I whispered softly into the microphone….“penissss”
Evidently my crowd didn’t hear the whisper so I took it up an octave.
“Penis!”
I could of sworn I saw Chukee (The Good Guy Doll) smile. I went to smile too but quickly caught myself.
Finish the joke Bob but look serious I told myself.
I went up an octave higher knowing this time they definitely had to hear.
“PENis!”
I’m quite certain I’m getting better because now I got my cabbage patch kids to chuckle.
I got louder.
“P-E-E-N-I-S-S!” I screamed at the top of my lungs.
I knew my audience should be ROTFL but this time they just gawked at me like I’m some kind of weirdo. I found myself losing it. I frantically slung the microphone at Gargamel the smurf because with that frown of his it was ostensibly clear that he was the least impressed.
But I wasn’t done just yet with my ill humored crowd, no, I really needed to let it all out.
Miss Piggy! Yeah! I’m gonna piss off Kermit the frog by kicking Miss Piggy right in the head!
I raced over and punted that bitch so hard that stuffing broke lose and landed all over the heads of my hush puppies.
“No! No!” I chanted. “Can’t have that bitches guts all over my pups!”
I raced over to my Hush puppies that were seated adjacent to Miss Piggy and quickly wiped her fuzzy guts away from their cute Lil eyes. I have a soft spot for animals. They’re not quite like humans. They’re completely innocent. I even swerve for caterpillars crossing the streets because I know what beauty they turn into. Had anybody done their research they would already know that a misanthrope like myself was drawn to pets.
My hush puppies were lint free now but I refused to repair Miss Piggy. Now don’t get me wrong, I like pigs too just not this one in particular because she looks too human. Unfortunately my heaving of the microphone at Gargamel the Smurf didn’t seem to phase him. He sat there glowering at me just as a human would hoping for a better joke. Preferably not a penis one but hopefully something funny.
Practice makes perfect I reminded myself as I picked up the microphone inspecting it for damage. It appeared to be okay.
I went back on stage and regained my composure. I felt a buzz in my pocket. It was a text message.
“Why are you not back at the truck? You are going to be late on this load.”