“The Happy Daggers” #16: A Male Prostitute Who Called Himself Nicky Swan
The Happy Daggers are usually the final show of the night at The Last Laugh, but a new show was added to the schedule after them. They don’t literally get The Last Laugh anymore. The guys decide to meet the new act, Freeway, earlier before their shows to see if they can figure out what’s so special about them that the Daggers, as Brendan puts it, “had to become the opening act for them”.
Brendan: (quietly) God, they call themselves Freeway? Were they a grunge band before they realized that was so silly comedy had to be their calling?
Kenny: I don’t think so. Look at them. They weren’t born yet.
James: Alright, shut up. They’re coming this way.
Art, Miles, Hunter, and Rob of Freeway nearly walk past all five Daggers when Brendan stops them.
Brendan: Hey, Freeway, right?
Miles: Yeah?
Rob: Oh my God, The Happy Daggers.
Matt: Yes! Hi! We just wanted to meet you and say hello since, as I’m sure you know, our shows are back to back tonight.
Hunter: Yup.
Art: (hesitant) Which is cool because we’ve always heard so much about you, like you’re obviously legendary, and so we are…thrilled to follow you later.
Alex: Oh well thanks guys. Good luck tonight!
James: May we ask you a few things though?
Hunter: Um, sure. What do you want to know?
Brendan: Well, I’m sure you’ll forgive us when we say we had absolutely no clue of your existence before this morning. Ok? And now we have just a name and some very young fresh faces.
Kenny: We’re just curious about your act. What do you do?
Art: Freeway is a stand-up troupe.
All the Daggers are visibly perplexed and even a bit disgusted.
Brendan: What the fuck is that? Please tell us what that means exactly.
James: Are you like Stella or something?
Rob: No we go on stage separately but we workshop our stand-up routines together.
Kenny: Oh my God. That’s like a writer’s room.
Matt: You fix up each other’s jokes?
Alex: And go around admitting it?
Miles: It’s a fairly new idea but it’s really the best way to start out.
Brendan: (quietly to Kenny) You leave the business for a few years and kids take all the fear out of the hardest type of comedy.
Kenny: (quietly back to him) I bet they help each other with another solo activity too.
Later, Rad emails James a podcast interview with Freeway where Art refers to the Daggers as vulgar hacks. In so many words. This information spreads among the troupe and worries Maude. Then it’s showtime. Daggers are onstage, finishing up the last sketch of their set…
Matt: “…It’s an improvised version of The Maury Povich Show called ‘Whose Baby Is It Anyway?’”
Light laughter from audience, then Brendan is center-stage one last time, with an open bottle of Cactus Cooler as usual and a microphone for some reason
Brendan: Ok guys. That’s our show. We gotta go but I want to just say a few words first. Cactus Cooler is the most refreshing Orange soda of all time, if not the greatest beverage of all time. Now that I got that out of the way, let me tell you a little bit about who we are. The Happy Daggers are the second most refreshing Orange soda of all time. James here says he is from the city of Alhambra but I’m sure he just made that place up. Kenny once pissed in a bucket and he has also farted on his dog. My father was a male prostitute who called himself Nicky Swan.
Maude: (panicking backstage with Alan): Oh no. What’s going on here? YOU HAVE TO GET OFF STAGE RIGHT NOW!
Brendan: Freeway are the biggest wimps in a generation of wimps so you gotta respect them but I don’t. This def poetry slam I’m doing up here all alone right now is being tested on you, the audience, to be judged. I didn’t have my circle jerk bros polish it first.
Maude (awkwardly gesturing to the stunned Freeway members beside her): AND THEY NEED TO GO ON NOW!
Brendan: Other things! No one over 30 should wear a bandana. And the photographers at the DMV shouldn’t tell you to look sexy. Kids, you need to know who Tom Waits is. You don’t need to know math. Balki and Cousin Larry wanted to fuck each other. Squirrels are nature’s poledancers. If I ever saw a baby in a cabbage patch, I’d be like “SON OF A BITCH!” and I certainly wouldn’t sell it as that year’s hottest Christmas present. Avoid the Noid. Do the Dew. Soy bomb. Soy bomb. Soy bomb. Knuke The Knack. There’s the Beef. YAHTZEE!
Alan: Ok. This is officially a filibuster.
It was indeed a filibuster and it finally ended an hour later when the tired Brendan was singing the nonsense parts of “Good Morning Starshine” and accidentally sloshed some Cactus Cooler on his mic and got himself a tad electrocuted.
Notes
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