So last night, I did an open mic, and even brought a friend along, something which I never do, because, as all comics know, open mics are soul-sucking, boring, and even unhealthy. This particular open mic was called “SuperEgo,” and is hosted by the lovely Dale Sorenson and the very gay Michelle Dobrawsky. Wait, I got that backwards. No, I didn’t.

To bring you up to speed, on this particular day, the lovely Ken Schultz was hosting, but Dale was still there. Dale spends more time talking about being gay than he spends actually doing gay things. Now, I’m not a homophobe, I’m just frightened to death of gay people. After all, what if they turn me gay? I’m kidding. However, I do like making fun of Dale. When I was a younger comic, I used to make fun of him for being gay. But then I realized that was too easy, and as far as I could tell, I haven’t seen Dale do anything gay in his entire life. He just seems to bitch about it a lot. So I’ve changed my story way of making fun of Dale to the way where I claim that he isn’t gay and just wants people to think he is. I also tend to make fun of his nerdiness, but that’s neither here nor there.

So I start going into my set, and just going to fuck with Dale for the first couple minutes. I’m doing the first part of my joke and going off the cuff and I’m not getting anything really, which is okay, because it wasn’t like I was married to the material. During a set up, I here:

“Next!”

Um, what? Who could possibly be shouting at me at a Superego open mic, especially after I have followed comics who were doing just as well as me. So I ask him.

“What did you say?”

“Next fucking comic, man. Come on.”

Now I’m pissed. Like, livid. I didn’t really care if this thought I was funny. In fact, I really don’t care, at any given show, if anyone thinks I’m funny. Well, I do, but at the same time, I don’t. I’m past a joke bombing and ruining my set. I can move past a bad joke.

So, I spent the rest of my time kind of asking him questions and insulting him. It actually went pretty well, and, in fact, once I started talking to him, I couldn’t resist continuing to do so. I was kind of addicted to it.

It was pretty good practice, and you can watch the video here.

After I went up, some people talked about the heckler, some didn’t, but he kept heckling, and nobody talked to him directly, which I found strange. I think the other comics might have been afraid of doing so. But, to tell you the truth, I was terrified. My leg was shaking the entire time, though the vibrations didn’t push against the sides of my pants, so it was hard to tell. I was afraid and I was angry, and after it was over, I stayed angry for the next couple hours.

It turned out that the heckler wasn’t a comic at all (I dont’ know why I even believed anything he had to say) but was friends with the second to last comic who went on, who was obviously a very uneducated white male who didn’t know how to overcome the obstacles his friend had put in front of him. Also, he was a beginner comic, so his jokes weren’t the best in the world. He also came across as misogynistic and frankly, stupid. But then again, I’m a judgmental asshole.

At the end of this very awkward show, Michelle Dobrawsky went up on stage and told the heckler to get the fuck out. There was a long period of silence, which was utterly awkward. Then I said “Dude, just listen to her and go.”

The heckler got up and said:

“You want me to go? Okay, I’ll go. But I’m going to finish my drink first.” At which point, he finished his vodka tonic in one large chug and placed it on the table.

“Maybe I should take my balls out,” he said, gesticulating to his crotch. Thankfully, he didn’t take his balls out.

His friend, meekly tried to get him to leave the room. The heckler stumbled out to the hallway, not without saying to Michelle

“Hey, you could stand to lose a few pounds.”

Classy.

Anyway, that’s basically the heckler story.