"The Aristocrats"

Word count: 300

"It's like watching a car wreck, I can't take my eyes off it." Clara said, her mouth agape.

"I don't know, I think it's pretty funny." Emmie countered.

"You are the only person of that opinion Emmie."

Clara was right, save sporadic, hushed conversations and a few groans the audience of the darkened comedy club was silent. Emmie and Clara were seated down front, supporting their friend Sean who was making his debut as a standup comic. This was supposed to be an evening of laughter and celebration, and yet their Hemmingway daquiris sat beading with sweat, untouched.

About sixty seconds into his set Sean froze, blood running from his face as he forgot the entire monologue he'd rehearsed with Emmie not two hours earlier. His mouth turned to cotton and sweat soaked his armpits as the white stage lights burned away the last of his confidence. He started reaching for any bad joke that his anxiety riddled mind could recall. This included one about an elephant and a naked man and barcodes on the sides of Norwegian battleships.

Not knowing how else to fill out the remaining time in his fifteen minute set, Sean began his rendition of The Aristocrats, a joke comedians usually only tell other comedians because of how crass and inappropriate they can get. As the audience gasped and Emmie quietly cackled, Sean proceeded to recite his rendition of the joke, which featured lederhosen, LSD, satanic children, necrophilia, zeppelin blimps and world domination.

"They will never allow him on stage again," Clara said as her hands covered her face.

"It could be worse." Emmie replied.

"How?"

"Sean just spent seven years in prison for a crime he didn't commit. If getting booted off stage is the worst thing that happens, it's still been a good night."