 I have become convinced that my cell phone and my cocktails are conspiring against me.
Taken by themselves they are both harmless and even useful. If I
talk to people on the phone while sober, I don’t have any problems. If
I drink and stay off of the phone I’m fine. But whenever the two of
them get together there is always trouble.
It was during one of these accidents recently that I agreed to produce a totally impossible comedy show.
Apparently a friend of mine called me when I was drunk and asked me
to put a comedy show together to be performed at a bar he works at and
I agreed to do it. When he called me back a couple of days later to
confirm the show I was horrified to learn the details of the agreement.
Friend: Man, it’s so great that you’re putting a comedy show together to be performed at my bar.
Me: (sigh) Okay, I’m going to need some details so I know what kind of show to put together.
Friend: Shoot.
Me: Where is your bar?
Friend: Downtown.
Me: I mean which building is the bar in?
Friend: Well it’s not really in a building.
Me: What sort of bar is not in a building?
Friend: Well it’s kind of an open air thing.
Me: Does it have a ceiling?
Friend: Nope.
Me: Walls?
Friend: Nuh-uh.
Me: So by open air you mean outside.
Friend: Yeah.
I happen to know that stand up comedy never. Works. Outside. But I also know that on the proposed date for the show the outside temperature will be over 100 degrees. So I’m beginning to get anxious.
Me: What’s the name of the bar?
Friend: The Tiniest Bar in Texas.
Me: Okay, but what’s the place called?
Friend: The Tiniest Bar in Texas.
(Now I’m in the midst of an Abott & Costello routine.)
Me: Why is it called that?
Friend: Because it’s the tiniest bar in Texas.
It still seems like an odd name to me. If your bar is tiny, why would you want to accentuate or promote that fact? Isn’t that like being a prostitute and telling everyone that you have a huge vagina?
Me: Is it really the tiniest bar in Texas?
Friend: Well... not anymore.
Me: Are you telling me that someone went out an opened an even tinier bar after you had named the place?
Friend: Yes.
Me: How long is the show supposed to last?
Friend: From 8:30 to 11.
Me: You want me to put together a comedy show that’s going to last for 2 1/2 hours?
Friend: You think it should be longer?
Me: No! I’m already going to need at least five other people for a show that long. How much does it pay?
Friend: Nothing.
Me: Wait, say that again.
Friend: I can’t give you any money.
Me: Dude, even if I was totally drunk when I agreed to this I know I wouldn’t have agreed to do it for free.
Friend: You said you’d do it for a bar tab.
Me: (pause) Okay that sounds more like me.
Friend: Only...
Me: What?
Friend: Well you can only have beer. If you want booze you have to pay for it.
Me: No booze? Are you serious?
Friend: And only domestic beer, too. No imports.
Me: So you want me to put together a show that’s going to be outside in the summer in Texas right next to street traffic that supposed to last for 2 1/2 hours and for my trouble I can drink all of the domestic beer I want but I won’t get any money.
Friend: Yep.
Me: I’d have to be a fucking idiot to agree to that.
Friend: Great! See you Wednesday!
There are a lot of very funny comedians that tour all over the world headlining comedy shows that happen to make their homes here. I’m friends with them and we sometimes ask each other for favors such as performing at a less than desirable show for less than desirable money. I was now in a position in which I had to call several of these people and ask them to help me.
It was not an easy sell.
I would call a comedian friend and the conversation would go like this...
Me: Hey man! I’ve got a show that I need you to do some time at.
Comedian: What’s the show?
Me: Outdoors on a Wednesday downtown.
Comedian: Sounds pretty awful. What’s the pay?
Me: It interesting that you bring that up...
Comedian: Why?
Me: Do you like Bud Light?
That Wednesday, the night of the show, a hurricane hit the Texas coast. Even though Austin is several hundred miles from the coast, when a hurricane hits we get a lot of rain. I was happy about this because if it rained it would be impossible to do the show and I and my friends would be able to get out of performing what was likely to be a terrible show.
We waited and prayed but it never did.
It was agreed that I would start the show and introduce all of the acts so I took a giant swig of domestic beer and hit the stage and started telling some jokes.
And a weird thing happened.
The small audience of about 30 people began to laugh and enjoy themselves.
I finished my act and brought up the next comic who proceeded to do even better than me. It seemed that with each act I brought to the stage the more the crowd was enjoying the show.
The owner of the place kept coming up to me, thanking me and telling me how much he loved the comedians. At the end of the show we called all of the acts back on stage and the crowd applauded.
The owner walked up with a tray and handed the comedians shots of Patron tequila which we drank gratefully.
We felt great. We had done well in a show that had everything working against it.
I felt good because I had put together a show that I was very proud of. I had to call in every favor I had in order to pull it off but I had done it. It was over. The bullet had been dodged.
The next day my buddy from the bar called me to tell me he loved the show and to find out if we could do it again next week.
But I was drunk so I didn’t answer.
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Quirkee Voices 
