Another Comedy Routine

Originally typed in 12th grade.

Consider this one to be an especially ballsy post as this is one of many other comedy routines written in high school, each more outlandish and ridiculous than the next. I don't want to promise posting the other routines as such promises tend to go unfulfilled. The routines were written for our school's coffeehouses, a showcase of the students' impeccable talents. Since I was one of the performers, there wasn't a lot of talent to showcase. Each coffeehouse was a great one, many of the performances were particularly eclectic and unexpected and just now, I wonder what the line-up might be. A performance of a break-dance group while a poet is dangled upside-down and above a piano reciting The Raven by Edgar Allen Poe? I'd be surprised if it wasn't there. The following is my intended third routine, which unfortunately, wasn't completed before the coffeehouse. I was caught in between a rock and a hard place as to what I wanted to complain about for that routine. Would it have been a fake salutatorian speech that lambasts school principles and puts a spotlight on the silent voices or would I try to tackle on the holy grail of school events, the beloved Prom? As it turns out, both. After seeing the real Salutation speech and not attending Prom, I realized I had no right to criticize something I only had some recognition of and my fake speech would've been more serious and less entertaining. They're failed ideas, but they're ambitious failed ideas that, if I had more time, I could've developed enough and delivered an unforgettable performance at the coffeehouse. Oh, well. This can be considered as an outline for the routine, with some quick jokes and a few anecdotal ones, to be delivered in the form of Jerry Seinfeld and Demetri Martin, two of the most impressive comic minds at work today. The jokes can be unusual and unnecessarily vicious, but a comedy routine isn't meant to be taken very seriously although that doesn't denote a routine for being terrible or hilarious. Either way, I enjoyed writing them, and might try to write more in the future if they're any good. Some offensive content but again, not to be taken seriously. Enjoy.  

 -In AP Art History, I learned that Salvador Dali, master surrealist, co-director of the Andulusian Dog, proud owner of a large ego that made him believe he was a savior amongst other artists, had a wife. This fact alone gives me hope for the future.
-There are two kinds of conversations: the group conversation and the one-on-one. The group conversations puts a lot of pressure on the individual members as each of them has to keep adding details to keep the conversation alive. I prefer the one-on-one, a more intimate conversation option, depending on the person. If the conversation doesn’t work out, I awkwardly stick around and play a one-person staring contest. I always win.
-Recently, I saw a young couple hooking up near the bus stop. Their moment of intimate passion abruptly ended with me staring at them grimacingly. The guy asked, “You hate us, don’t you?”
“No,” I told him. “I hate your happiness.” Now, I won’t be afraid to state that I’ve felt the same way with couples here on campus, but since I was sure I would never see them again, I couldn’t let such an opportunity go to waste.
-The most insulting thing I’ve ever said to someone was “I couldn’t buy you a present even if I had the resources to get one.”
-Everyone who goes to this school is crazy.

-I have a problem with nail polish. It’s a small problem, but it’s still applicable. As human beings, we are very complicated. It doesn’t matter if you are someone making a crass comment during class or if you’re an arrogant person trying to prove your theory of crap is credible. You’re still very complicated. As an artist, I have noticed how much color people are made out of and it just have bothers me how some people are daring enough to simplify a concept such as the fingernail with one color. My most hated colors are red and black. Red and black are a presence. In a group of 400 people, the only thing you'll notice are the red and black nail polish flashing out in front of everyone, demanding your attention. There is an exception to the rule as there should be. If you have the Mona Lisa on your fingers, I will kiss each of them. You know what other event requires fingernail polish? Prom. THE MOST IMPORTANT EVENT OF YOUR ENTIRE LIFE. Marriage, kids? Feh, they don’t compare to the toxic amount of fruit punch you drank at Prom. There was one person who threw Prom away. His name is Mikey Sanders. He began his high school career as an Eric Cartman impersonator. (try to sound like Cartman) He wasn’t very good at it, however. Couldn’t quite capture the character’s sense of…ignorance and insecurity. He had to move on to other things. (End Cartman) He fell in love. That didn’t work out as it shouldn’t have. Senior year came along and most of Mikey’s dreams came true excluding the love thing again…with the same person. He went to all of his favorite classes, enjoyed every school production or attraction, talked to his friends every day, and lo, Prom was just around the corner. He bought his tickets on the first day they were available. He asked his best friend out and he said, “Sorry, I don’t think it’s customary for guys to go together unless they’re gay.”
“But we can be the exception to the rule” exclaimed Mikey with pleading eyes, “There always has to be an exception!”
“Sorry, dude.”
“Damn it.” The next day, Mike asked out his female best friend and she said yes. Sunshines were in bloom, and lollipops were in the air again. Mikey had a tuxedo all set, the limo, pretty much everything. There was only one problem, and his teachers and classmates knew it. He hadn’t contracted Senioritis yet. Now for some of us who give some sort of a damn, what is Senioritis? Well, until Mikey, it was only a legend, a myth. Supposedly, those who contracted Senioritis lose all sense of reality and appear to be in a distorted reality where grades don’t matter. Where attendance issues are just a slap on the wrist. Where caring about school goes to die. What Mikey and his cohorts failed to realize was that Prom was a school-sponsored event and the minute Mikey stepped into the increasingly gorgeous ballroom, his ambitions to enjoy Prom disappeared. One more joke before I sign off for tonight: His date(beloved friend) started shaking him furiously, telling him to “Dance! Mike! Just one dance!” as Mikey thought, “Hmm, that pearl necklace is really excessive compared to the rest of the getup”.
Thank you very much.