Cabaret Of The Damned: "The Rory Sanchez Experience?"

WANTED: Like minded, sick motherfuckers in Southern California to assist Bugs and me (and one other actress, won't say 'til I get the "yes") with an act we're going to do at open mic night, and if they get it, spoken word venues' comedy night. You don't really have to do anything either. We just really need as many friendly faces between us and the real audience as possible. We do have a couple people recruited to be straight-up blockers ["Silly" Simon Phoenix and "Jolly" Judas Booth], but if you want to do that as well, that would be great.

The only hitch is that, unless we book a spot in advance - most of this is a "you never know" thing, though with three people throwing the same name into the hat, it could up the odds a bit. You kind of have to be into this idea that you're part of our little "street theater" troupe, and you'll probably have to buy some drinks and definitely have to listen to some sad, sad, comedy. Fortunately, I/we know some pretty strange and wonderful people.

Why do we need blockers and friendly faces?

Now a lot of things come out of my mouth that, metaphorically speaking, regularly put me in front of firing squads. It's either a talent, a character flaw, or perhaps even an endearing trait of mine - but either way, it's something I do well. And often.

This act is fucking abhorrent. It's partially inspired by the Andy Kaufman tribute that Bugs and I went to last week. But it ended up being a way of fusing together two bits that Judas and I were working on: Rory Sanchez, the Diabetic Comic and The Worst Comedian in the World.

Now it's Guerrila Theatre - Performance Art. Sure! That's It!!!

I now present, in all it's shameful glory, The Rory Sanchez Experience? And I'm really, really fuckin' sorry. Sort of.

Let me set the mood:

It's open mic night at The Ha Ha Hole or The Chuckle Hut, maybe even an open-minded spoken word venue with a cool audience. If what I've seen so far is any indication, the crowd at the former is mostly other comics... well, and a couple neighborhood drunks hitting the post-happy hour specials. It's only slightly less depressing than a Bukowski novel. In other words, my kind of room.

Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for The Rory Sanchez Experience!

Rory Sanchez is a bad 80's-style comedian. I mean, she's not a "flashback" schticky character - in the grand tradition of other hack comics of using their ethnicity, gender, sexuality, and or disability for THEIR ENTIRE FUCKING ACT, Rory can't stop talking about her Diabetes:

You know what's funny about Diabetes? Nothing.

I just got out of a diabetic coma. What day is it?

She points to somebody's appetizer.

Is that any good? Yeah? That's death on a plate for me.

Then I start heckling her:

You're dying now!

Heh. Funny. (recovering) I just flew in from a blood sugar test, and boy is the tip of my finger tired!"

She holds up a finger with a band-aid.

Is this all you do?

No, sir. I take my shirt off for an encore.

Now that would be funny!

Now she's really fucking pissed. But still trying to keep it together.

Man, my blood sugar is low.

HOW??? LOW??? IS IT???

That tears it.

Look dude, I don't want to compete. Why don't you come up here and tell a joke?

I don't want to.

She steps aside.

Come on. You're so smart, you do it.

Other plants in the audience will badger me. So I get up to the mic.

I tell ya, folks. I'm just on edge. That's all. I'm sorry, lady. I just got fired from my job. You may not know this, but when you come to work with blood and semen on the Chuck E. Cheese costume, management tends to frown on that.

Groans.

While we're on the topic of stain removal, anybody know how to get the stench of toddler corpse and zima barf out of the back of an ice cream truck?

Groans.

It was better than my last job though. I was a playground magician. Know what that is? A playground magician is kind of like a street magician - only I made kids disappear.

Groans.

I should be feeling good. I'm in a new relationship, and that always puts a fresh spin on things. She's a model. She's only done Osh Kosh B'Gosh spreads, but I think I can get her on the back of a milk carton by Valentine's Day.

Groans.

What does a child see before it's drugged and shoved into a potato sack? Well, in my house, it's "Finding Nemo."

Now Bugs starts heckling me. She's on crutches. Not in real life, for the act.

You suck!

That's a good insult. You have another one?

You're a fuckin' retard.

Say - what's wrong with you, Speedy? You want the little Insulin girl back up at the mic?

She's funnier than you!

Why are you so uptight, Sugartits, you get molested or something?

As a matter of fact, I did! Make a joke out of that, motherfucker!"

Was he any good?

Motherfucker!!!

She charges the stage. I mean, she hobbles to the stage.

I get it, I get it. I'm sorry that he fucked you crippled.

She hits me in the nads with her crutch. Rory steps back up and shakes her hand.

That's when I kick the crutches out from under Bugs, knocking both of them to the floor.

I get up and grab one of Bugs' crutches - and start jabbing her with it.

Rory starts pounding on my back. I turn around.

I'll put you in a real coma, you fucking cunt!!!

I swing for her head. She ducks.

Then we all yell, "...And SCENE!"

Rory says, "Well! I think that went pretty well. What about you guys?"

Bugs and I agree.

Then we hold hands and bow - and I give the girls flowers.

My great-grandmammy Vinehamner actually wrote this bit. I have nothing to do with it.