His throat was dry and tight as a bowstring. He could hear his eyelids squeaking. He scanned his 3X5 card every thirty seconds, until he could no longer tell if the words were correctly spelled. But he knew the set was good. Even Jana laughed a little when he made her sit down long enough to run it for her.
“Jerry,” she said, “Too bad you can’t get paid for this, you big goof.”
He looked up when he saw Abe Gleason, the emcee of Last Laugh, Comedia’s Open Mic night, slip between the curtains and shamble toward him.
“Dude,” he said, “I’m really sorry, man, but Craig sucked so bad he emptied the place out. Randolph is pissed and he killed the rest of the show.” Randolph was the late shift manager.
Jerry slumped in his chair and massaged his temples. “This will play right into Jana’s hands. She wanted us to go out to celebrate our fifth anniversary of hooking up and I said I had to be here.”
When he got back to their two-room apartment, she was asleep. He climbed in next to her and she edged away from him as far as she could without going over the edge.
The rest of the story is HERE.