November 18, 2001

Why aren't you funny?

-Critical Humorist

Believe it or not, I used to be very funny before IT happened. I'd write stories, columns, do stand-up, just about anything comedic. The people loved it. Oh, they laughed and laughed. I can hear their mirthful shrieks now - distant memories echoing through my now-humorless brain. I was on the rise to stardom, everything was going my way. But all that was Before.

I had decided to go for a walk that fateful evening, despite the ominous warnings of that crazy one-eyed gyspy woman. I drank in the cool night air, giggled at the fireflies, and stared at the lovely, lovely stars. The stars... yes, they were the last thing I saw before a pea-sized meteorite ripped into my skull, tore through my brain, and punched through the other side of my head. Oddly enough, I recall laughing. I was laughing for some ungodly reason. It was high-pitched, loud, and tinged with insanity. "WAHAHAHAHA", I cried, "WAHAHAHAHAHA!"

The doctor said that the meteroite had taken out the humor center of my brain. She told me I would never do comedy again, and that if I tried, it would come out horribly awry. I didn't believe her and aimed to prove the doctor wrong. I set out on the road, thinking I could use the hole in my head to make the funniest jokes yet. For my first gag, I stuffed my "brain channel" with bees, trapping them in there with two corks. Once on stage, I removed the corks and ran around screaming, "BEES IN MY BONNET, BEES IN MY BONNET!" as bees noisily streamed out of my head. This was met with stony silence.

I tried everything during my travels. I dressed as a test tube, filled my head with baking soda, and added vinegar. As the white froth burst from my head, I yelled, "Look! I'm a boiling test tube!" Some crude woman in the audience cupped her hands to her mouth and shouted, "You look more like my husband's penis!" This was followed by a stream of cruel heckling. "Wow! You really get off on being on stage, don't you penis!" "You know what they say about the size of a man's penis costume!" "Hey penis, dance for me! DANCE FOR ME!" I embarrassedly fled from the stage while the audience chanted, "DANCE PENIS, DANCE! DANCE PENIS, DANCE!"

On my final attempt at the comedy business, I prepped for stage by cramming my head full of ground beef and a single M-80. When my name was announced, I ran wildly on stage holding a fake gun. "I'M GONNA KILL EVERYONE HERE!!!" I screamed madly. The audience stared back with something that looked like fear. "Oh, what's the point..." I continued in a soft voice, lowering my gun. "I think I'll... I'll..." I paused for a moment to gaze steadily at the bewildered audience. "JUST BLOW MY BRAINS OUT!" I hollered ubruptly, surreptitiously lighting the M-80 fuse. I raised the gun to my head as if to shoot myself and the M-80 blew. Smoking ground beef flew from the interior of my brain and splattered on the horrified audience. I stood onstage laughing maniacally, bloody ground beef covering my face and dark smoke wafting from the hole in my head.

After all that, I felt I could never realize my dream of making people laugh. Sadly I, along with the hole in my head, faded into obscurity. Having lost all hope, I became a Computer Engineer. Despite the high demand, I was unable to find a job. Employers looking for bright, young programmers seemed hesitant to hire a failed comic with a clear line of sight through his brain. But I kept looking and I finally found a place that would take me: MyProfessorSucks.com And well, the rest is history... from what I can remember with this hole in my head anyway.