Angel in Training, Chapter 1

Chapter 1   Liquid Laughter

       Peter Ball’s got to work early like he always did. He parked his car in front of the old porno theater on the west side called, Smiling Jack’s. Before he turned his car off he cracked the seal on a bottle of George Mason Whiskey. He threw the lid out the window because by morning he wouldn’t need it anymore. He tilted his head back and took a long pull on the bottle. He instantly felt the self-confidence that whiskey gave him. He looked up at the marquee sign that was blinking like a lightning storm. Not because it was a new high-tech sign but because it had an electrical short in it and had for years. He chuckled out loud when he saw his stage name, Goofball. It was really more than his stage name, he had been called Goofball since he was in first grade. He didn’t really mind the name, it was better than all of the sexual innuendos that came with his real name. As well it reminded him that he had been a comedian since he could remember. It started out when he realized being funny would keep bullies from kicking his ass from hell to breakfast. By seventh grade he was doing the talent shows at school and cracking everyone up including the principal. The teachers all loved his sense of humor and gave him good grades. He graduated with a B average but was almost illiterate.

       Peter hadn’t always been a performer at the sleazebag venues. Once he was at the top of the comedy circuit. He could pack a Las Vegas showroom and got thrown in to the mix with the best of the hilarious. Until it all came crashing down thanks to his old friend George Mason. Funny thing about success it likes to rub shoulders with addictions. One night in Reno his act was followed by a new up and comer, she went by the stage name Sister Laughgasam. No one really knew her real name, but once you got to know her she liked to be called just sister. It only took one night before Goofball had earned the right to call her that.

        Peter had been following her career and had a silent crush on her. So when a Heckler totally crossed the line Peter made his way out into the audience and broke an empty beer pitcher over the hecklers head. Needless to say, time away from his career in jail took him from the top all the way down to the bottom where he started years ago.

       Tonight Goofball was opening for a local comedian who called herself Sissy Smilette. She was wasting no time on her way to the top. He had heard her ever changing act at least a dozen times now and thought she was hilarious. Peter felt that love crush feeling starting to fester again and that’s what got him in trouble before. To push those feelings back inside, he once again used his old friend George Mason as a crutch. Peter new as long as he was shit faced, he wouldn’t feel the pain of one-way love.

        By the time Peter entered the venue he was halfway into the bottle of George Mason. He came face to face with Sissy. She instantly gave him a hug and she could smell the whiskey on him. She laughed a little and said.

        “I wouldn’t smoke a cigarette right now or you might blow this whole damn sleeze bag place up.”

        So Peter being the funnyman pulled a cigarette out of the pack and stuck it in his mouth backwards and tried to light the filter. Then he told her without even cracking a smile.

     “I feel bulletproof right now, like I could strut my stuff in a totally nude version of Mary Poppins. Yeah, I sure as hell wouldn’t care if the Queen of England wanted to write her autograph on my bare ass.”

       They both laughed hysterically as the owner Bill Bastion gave Goofball the time to get going signal. They both despised the 300ish pound jackass and called him Big Billy Blastoff behind his back.

       “Give them a laughter enema.” Sissy said to Peter as he walked to the bar to get a pep talk from his friend George Mason.

      Once onstage he made some patented Goofball drunk chicken impersonations as he sipped his whiskey without spilling. That always gave him a chance to analyze the crowd and see how his totally spontaneous set would go. Goofball took an another drink of courage and set his cocktail on a barstool by the microphone.

        “So… ladies and gentlemen. In this era of social correctness and political correctness I would like to interview all of you morons and see which direction I want to go to make you laugh your asses off.”

       There was a meager laugh from the audience but that didn’t bother Peter. He hadn’t even got started yet

        “So… Have you ever noticed that when someone starts a conversation with… So… Something bad or really weird is sure as hell going to happen.”

        He got another meager laugh from the audience so he stuck his microphone in his pants and took another sip of whiskey.

       “So… I was wondering if you would look at this festering bump down here and tell me what you think it is.”

       Peter looked down at his crotch and started to un-zip his pants as the crowd gave him a good laugh. He then took a Band-Aid out of his pocket opened it so everyone could see and then stuck it down his pants.

       “So… Would you mind smelling my finger and tell me where you think it’s been?  So… Would you mind checking my adult diaper and see if it’s full.”

       The crowd laughed hard at those lines as well, which reminded Peter to have another sip of whiskey.

       “So… Before I got distracted and started shooting my mouth off. I was going to analyze the sensitivity of this crowd. We were talking about social and political correctness. So… Let’s go down the list my attorney gave me so I don’t piss some oversensitive piece of crap off that should never get drunk in a comedy club. I really don’t want to break a beer pitcher over someone’s head tonight in self-defense. Or be forced to pay for some snowflake’s therapy dog for 10 years. Speaking of social correctness would you two girls on the front row quit staring at my package, seriously my eyes are up here.”

       Peter took a good look at the crowd while they laughed trying to see how close to comedian hell he could dance.

       “So… let’s get started. Are there any Transgender leaning, left-handed, Ex-Morman, Jewish midgets with a sex addiction in the audience with an erection or woodette right now?”

        Most of the crowd thought that he was pretty funny so he went on pursuing that line of laughter after he had a sip of whiskey.

       “Are there any Democrats in here that secretly want Nancy Pelosi to trip over her sagging breasts the next time she struts to the pulpit to spew propaganda and bull shit.”

        That only got Peter a few laughs so he twisted his line of thought.

        “Whoa, hold on now. Let’s make political criticism fair. “How many people in here tonight would like to see a secret sex tape of President Trump and Nancy Pelosi.”

        That got Peter a decent laugh but he decided to stay out of politics the rest of the night. Peter took another drink of his whiskey and said.

        “I can’t be the only one that feels like they have some kind of weirdo magnetism. You know, I expect weird things to happen to me in a lingerie and sex toy store, but really when you’re in Sportsman’s Unlimited. Seriously a guy with a shopping cart full of ammunition stops me and asked. Can you point me to the section where I can get a super small derringer I can hide in my ass?”

       Peter interrupted the laughter as he scratched his ass.

      “No kidding I was at the Engines Are Us auto store and a hot girl walked up to me and said. Guess where the weirdest place my tongue has been?”

        Peter made some strange faces and did a little gagging drunk chicken dance.

       “I said it might be easier to guess where it hasn’t been, like in a church. Of course she liked my answer and we enjoyed a very short KY infused marriage. The truth I found out about that kind girl was, every man should take a couple week sabbatical with a sex addict.”

        That got the crowd going and Peter did little drunk chicken dance to show his appreciation of the applause.

        “No kidding I was renewing my drivers license and the guy behind me in line said. How the hell did I get mayonnaise on my zipper.”

        Peter interrupted the laughter as he looked down at his zipper.

        “I’ve even got a better one. An ugly chick at the super quick stop purposely ran into me and said. Guess how long I’ve been following you.”

        Peter interrupted the laughter again.

        “I’m seriously thinking about inventing the weirdo proximity meter that can warn us normal people that someone who needs to be locked up in the cuckoo’s nest is getting close to my personal space.”

        Peter let the crowd laugh while he did a drunk chicken impersonation as he sipped his whiskey.

       “So… I decided that what comes around goes around and I would take my turn at being a genetic highbred of Jeffrey Dahmer mixed with a little Charlie Manson mixed with a small dash of Ted Bundy mixed with a teeny bit of a super drunk baby spawned by Hillary Clinton and Bernie Sanders.”

        Peter started a little drunk chicken dance then dropped to his knees and was dry heaving as the crowd laughed.

        “So… I decide to go for a long walks in public spaces like a park or around the county courthouse, or at the shopping mall and do my best interpretation of the most screwed up person in the universe.”

        Peter scratched his ass and then sniffed his fingers before he interrupted the laughter and continued.

       “So… I walked up to the most librarian looking girl I could find and said. Do you have any rubber gloves I could borrow. Oh yeah, that got me the, get the hell away from me look.”

        The crowd laughed so Peter took a sip of whiskey and continued his line of humor.

        “So… I find the most lawyer type, executive type, suit and tie stuck up type, and I said. I thought you should know but I had an orgasm during my colonoscopy. By the way would you like to see the internal video? Boy oh boy did Mr. Uptight have a scared look on his face. Before we made wild passionate love.”

       Peter enjoyed the laugh before he turned around and bent over showing the audience a partial moon. The girls in the audience started chanting all the way, all the way, all the way. Peter finally interrupted the chant as he wondered if he could really get away with a full moon in a comedy club.

       “So then I search for my next victim and I find the hottest perfect ten I’ve ever seen. She was watching her own reflection as she walked by a store window. So I made my move and she bumped right into me. I looked at her with one eye open wider than the other one and said. You are going to learn to love me or the madness will begin.”

        Again Peter enjoyed a long laugh as he showed the audience his crazy one eye open look.

       “Seriously that was the best tasting pepper spray I have ever ate.”

       Peter again enjoyed the loud laughter and applause and did a little drunk chicken impersonation. Peter took another drink of his whiskey. Then he decided to switch laughter gears.

       “So… I really don’t see the need for warning labels. I say if someone is stupid enough to do something they shouldn’t, let them pay the price. Think of it as a kind of genetic engineering. The way I see it the less dumb ass people in the world the better. Maybe the only warning label that is really needed should be on bacon packages. Do not cook this product naked.”

        Most of the guys, as they should have, laughed harder than the girls in the audience.

        “I can’t imagine anyone really needing the warning label on condoms, adult diapers, rubber gloves and toilet paper… Please do not attempt to reuse this product.”

         That got a decent laugh and Peter enjoy the moment as he played a wild game of pocket pool. Peter took another sip of his whiskey and decided to run with another line of humor.  

         “So… I recently figured out that I’m a dog whisperer. It turned out I know exactly where my dog is going to take a shit next… Right where I’m going to step.”

          Peter could see the crowd was showing the effects of a good dose of liquid laughter so he changed the subject again.

         “How many people here consider themselves a do-it-yourselfer? Maybe you landscaped your own yard, maybe you painted a bedroom, how damn hard can it be. It’s been my experience that a one legged, brain-damaged Circus monkey can paint.”

          The crowd laughed hysterically as Peter hopped around on one leg acting like he was using the paint brush.  

           “So… You know what I think is so cool in the era of technology. You can just Google any complex subject in the universe and in 10 seconds or less, you’re now an expert. No education required, no degree, no certification, not one damn proof of ability is needed. That should scare the hell out of everybody. One of my ex-girlfriends was sure she could give me a vasectomy, and that’s why she’s my ex.”

         That got a good laugh from the girls in the audience. So Peter walked around the stage dry humping the air like a stud dog that smells a bitch in heat.

         “Can you imagine, maybe you’re a little short on cash so you try to figure out a way to give yourself a colonoscopy or maybe you pull your own wisdom teeth, that’s pure insanity.  Although I did managed to give myself a lethal dose of psychotherapy, ending in shock treatment and a frontal lobotomy, so as you can see, everything worked out fine.”

         Everyone loved that line and the drunk Peter did a great drunk chicken impersonation as he clucked wildly into the microphone.

      “So… I know everybody loves medical humor and I know girls especially like to hear about vasectomies gone wrong when it comes to arrogant guys. Well here’s how it went for me.  A got in my gown at my urologist office and they help me to figure out how to use the stirrups. It wasn’t at all like the fantasies I’ve had of being a gynecologist. Well, just as he’s ready to get started the assisting nurse walked in. And guess what it was Betty Ball Smasher the girl we used to tease in high school. She was  6’3” tall weighed about 290 of solid muscle and was never afraid to kick a jock in the balls. She took one look at my scared to death penis and scrotum and laughed. Of course I had to explain that I’m usually bigger than this I’m just nervous. Of course she laughed again this time even louder. I’m seriously contemplating whether to run or get on my cell phone and get prequalified at an injury attorney’s office. About then the Valium they gave me started to kick in and the doctor began the procedure. It wasn’t long before that he yelled out loud something like, oh shit that’s not supposed to happen. Well instantly my scrotum shrivels up to nothing and had a tight grip on the surgical equipment. No kidding he couldn’t even pull it out. About that time I think I better get in protection mode so I tell Betty Ball smasher something like, I’m sure you know that you have beautiful eyes. And she says something like, what do you think it feel like to have one gonad. At that point I’m really desperate and asked her to marry me. The next thing you know my friends are calling me goofy minus one ball.

           Everyone was laughing hard at the end of the story especially the girl at the back of the room who was about 6’3” tall and weighed about 300 pounds and was drinking beer right out of the pitcher.

         Big Billy Blastoff gave Peter the lets wrap it up signal so he thought he would try on a new subject.

        “So… I always feel obligated to give my fans and education as well as a good laugh. So… Here we go. Things you should never, ever, never, do. Never… drink 12 beers and smoke a joint before you go to court for driving under the influence. Never… Throw a full can of spray paint into a campfire when you are roasting hotdogs. Never… Throw a box of shotgun shells into a campfire while you are trying to brown a marshmallow. Never… Get sassy with the sheriff who pulls you over when the floor of your truck has 50 beer cans covering it and there’s a loaded pistol under the seat and there’s two inflated midgets in an awkward pose on the backseat and you’re wearing fishing waders with the crotch cut out of them, and you have a brick of premium marijuana behind the driver’s seat. I know, I know, all just common sense but I’m happy to have given you a half assed education and a small laugh.” The now fully lubricated crowd laughed and applauded loudly.

       Peter was done so he turned his back to the crowd and bowed his favorite way, showing a partial moon. He did his patented drug chicken dance as the crowd applauded. He interrupted the applause for his introduction.

       “Ladies and gentlemen, drunks and addicts, virgins and sluts, pimps and preachers, perverts and politicians. The next comedian is on track to be the next big star in the laughing industry… Sissy Smilette.”










Angel In Training-
A Story About The Laughter That Comes From Heaven.
©Paul H. Keeler… A Cosmic Cowboy.






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