The comedy show was funny as hell. Two comedians came on before Will Durst …
have no clue now who they were … then Durst came on and stole the show. Karla was laughing and hanging onto me so she
wouldn’t fall off her stool. Her father
was on the other side of me, buying drinks for everyone. Then when the show was over, Durst gets down
off the stage and walks down the center aisle right toward us. I thought, wow, I can introduce Karla to
him. That would be so great!
He’s still heading toward us. He’s heading right toward me. I’m smiling and looking at him. He’s smiling and looking back with unfocused eyes,
walking quickly, walking right at me.
Walking, almost trotting, right at me.
Right into me.
He slams into my knee.
Smack dab into my knee as I’m sitting there on the stool, and the part
of his anatomy that smashes into my kneecap are his testicles. Wham!
And then he staggers back a step, bending over double, and I realize
with horror that I’d just kneed Karla’s favorite comedian in the balls.
“Oh shit!” I yell. “Oh god, are you okay?”
He stands up straight, grin plastered on his face, and
says, “I’m fine! I’m okay! Sorry!”
I can tell he is not fine. He is covering up like a pro, but he is in
pain. “I am so sorry!”
“It was me.
I’m sorry. Couldn’t see because,
came off bright stage, it’s all dark.
Not your fault.”
“Um,” I stammer, “this is Karla, it’s
her 21st birthday.”
“Happy birthday Karla,” he says, and gives
her a hug.
[this is an excerpt from something I’m writing right now, and it really did happen]