Comedy is harder than drama
I missed my blog entry yesterday because I did another writing contest. This one was a 24-hour 250-word microfiction contest. 24 hours to write 250 words with an assigned genre, action, and word. Unfortunately, I was dealt the comedy genre. I’ve always struggled to write comedy. Which is strange if you know me because I’m generally a funny person in real life. But when it comes to manufacturing comedy on the page… I got nothing. So, I smoked a whole bunch and wrote this piece. I hope you enjoy it.
On Monday afternoon, Tuesday sat on his living room floor and finished smoking a bowl of weed. Suddenly, it occurred to him – his job interview at the Rusty Razor was in 30 minutes. He hopped up and took a dress shirt out of his Tickle-Me Elmo laundry basket. The shirt was covered in wrinkles and so he got out the ironing board and proceeded to iron his shirt. As he ironed, his mother’s words came back to haunt him, “never go out in public with winkles or you’ll be the first to crinkle”. Tuesday never understood what it meant, but then he also never knew why his parents had decided to name him Tuesday in the first place. Something about being the day of the week he was conceived on but that’s about the time he normally cupped his ears and checked out of the conversation. Both his brothers had normal names. Thomas and Ryan. And yet, he gets the day of the week his parents… You know. He even had a younger sister. You’d think that would’ve been the perfect opportunity to name her Wednesday after Wednesday Adams but noooo, it’s Jill. Friggin’ Jill. All the kids at school used to make fun of Tuesday for his name. They’d ask him, “Hey Tuesday, what’s your favorite day of the week?” Over and over again. Kids are jerks. Tuesday realized that he’d burned a hole right in the middle of his dress shirt. Somehow, this was also his mother’s fault.