That's My Idea of Funny

I woke up this morning and, unfortunately, I remembered what part of dreamland I'd visited just seconds before . . .

I was a stand-comedian. Working in an amusement park. I had quit law school upon the success of a small up-start play we took all the way to Broadway . . .

And I ended up a stand-up comedian. In an amusement park.

What's worst is that my hook involved me drinking and stumbling around the stage.

Wasn't that seriously played out in the '60s and 70s? (Sorry, Deano.)

I woke up after realizing my booze was all gone just before one of my performances. I sought out the only employee I could find, behind the cash register in the souvenir shop. And I demanded the return of my alcohol.

"I'm not funny without it," I told her.

"Yeah, that's apparent," she replied, "but who are you?"

"Who am I? Who AM I? I am Mr. Misery!! My face is on the t-shirts you sell! My name is on the tent!!!"

My name is on the tent.

I really should get back to studying for Secured Transactions, don't you think?


(And by the way, the only person I saw buy a t-shirt was my mother. Figures. A face only a mother can love, right?)