(To the MC.)
I hear ya, mate – you’re fed up – yeah, I don’t blame ya. I’ll let ya in on a little secret: you were ripped off, mate. You wasted ya money, and ya time, like the rest of these idiots did. You all wasted ya night, you paid whatever bullshit price this stingy publication put on the ticket – you should see the whole lot of fuck-all he’s paying me for tonight.
MAN IN CROWD
And you’re still not worth it, mate!
Came another voice from the crowd, his heckle failed to inspire Dougie, who continued in his apathetic vein.
I agree, mate. And I don’t reckon you’ll get a refund either, I reckon the publican will be desperate to keep whatever he can from this bloody disaster.
The MC stopped once he reached the stage, crossed his arms before the comedian and replied in a firm tone.
I am the publican.
Of course he was, what a perfect close to a terrible evening. He could feel the silence closing like a thick curtain, tightening like strong fingers around his throat, coming in for the kill, but if Sandy was dying he would decide how. He paused for one last moment to savour that sad sight and determined the evening’s fate. His eyes flicked toward the bar, that was where he was headed, where he decided he’d get himself a drink, and where he decided he wasn’t paying.
Well, I reckon that’s goodnight folks.
He declared with an obituary tone, and departed from the stage.
/ new chapter (coming soon)