By Ryan Hallam
The left side of the sign
shines with the moon, the other half blends in with the night,
The sign reads,
"Saturday two shows 7:30 and 9:45"
This is before the grown
men dress as cardboard boxes.
Both shows start 20
minutes late
The stage lights are
still warm
and the mic still hot,
surrounded by the audience sitting in the dark
12:15 the headliner is
still going strong.
Sitting on the couch in the green room, hoping
the lost mouse
Isn’t under my feet
The room probably smells but I’m nose blind to
it.
The pupils around me are
more dilated than usual
Eyes pop out like an
owl’s
The uneasy feeling of
looking straight into the darkness of someone’s eyes.
Staring into an 8 ball
without the 8.
Many comics have
dramatically decreased in iris,
I’m still trying to stay
in the conversation,
The end table has a
perfectly scrolled 20 dollar bill
Next to a credit card,
car keys, and
of course an Arite Lange autobiography.
The room suddenly gets silent.
Sitting sober still.
Car keys dive into a cute
little bag,
trying not to make eye
contact
When I hear the sniffs I
look up at the water stained ceiling tiles.
I’m stationed like a
camera taking one continuous shot
trying to find a way to
not awkwardly
exit.
I have been told before
I’m not ready for coke,
And I agree, but one
comic still offers
I say no, but a hitter is
being passed around
I flick the lighter to
blend in.
About the
Author
Ryan Hallam is in his second year at ICC. Ryan currently lives
in Washington, Illinois. He enjoys writing short stories, poetry, and
performing standup comedy. Last year, Ryan placed 4th in the 2021 Jukebox
Comedy Club tournament. Standup Comedy is a passion of Ryan's, which allows him
to share his unique observations. One thing Ryan does not enjoy is writing
about himself in the third person.