It was a slow night in the Coco Room of the Fourtunado Lounge, Eleanor, Indiana’s hottest comedy club. Not to mention, it's only comedy club. Its host was a heavyset black gentleman in his mid-twenties. He walked onto the room’s stage, coated in sweat and shaking uncontrollably, as though he saw a ghost.
Edwin gently grasped the microphone stand like a lifeline, “How are y’all doing tonight?”
Edwin paused for five seconds, not allowing the crowd of easy-going Hoosiers to respond, “That’s very good. Tonight's act is...well let’s just say it's the most unorthodox comic that I’ve ever seen, in all of my life. H-he, or, or it has no prior credits, but please direct your attention to a-a disembodied Digestive System.”
The crowd, who were very used to the surreal nature of most comedians were immediately put off by Edwin’s noticeable confusion and abject horror. Edwin quickly rushed off stage and into a back alley for a smoke. He had quit smoking years ago, but now he found that he was in dire need of a cigarette to calm his nerves. After he left a stool was brought out by an equally disturbed waitress named Pattie Carmicheal. Then without warning a massive set of intestines both large and small trailed behind a stomach and a partially torn apart esophagus slithered its way into the stool, curling up like a massive python, its torn esophagal hole resting in front of the microphone.
“Woof, Jesus Christ. I’ da figured my entrance would get something,” spoke the Digestive System in a gruff Bostonian accent. The entire audience wasn’t sure what to make of it, “What the hell’s the matter with you people? You’re looking like you’ve never seen a set of guts before.”
The room was so goddamn quiet you could practically hear beads of sweat as they collided with the stucco floor of the bar. All eyes were trained on the set of guts, “What’s the matter, you children of the corn too fucked in the head to see what art is? This is the ultimate expressin’ of art. I’m a disembodied set of guts, ain’t that a little funny to you Hoosier bastards?”
“No,” spoke one very brave member of the crowd.
“See, at least one of you inbred fucks has a brain. Me, I don’t get onna those, on account of my unfortunate condition.”
That comment elicited some small chuckles from the crowd, the room was becoming more comfortable with the disgusting sight before them.
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