Tag: women in comedy

Tom detailed his revenge plot against Panera bread.  They had screwed up his sandwich for the last time and they’d pay. 

Brett cleared his throat nervously and interrupted.  “Guys, Reddit bought out Patreon. They erased all donor info and funds.”  

  Tom sat up, a light in his eyes. “Did it happen to everyone- even the Hamburger Men?”  Brett replied, “The Doughboys were paid out yesterday- in ten thousand dollars of fast food hamburgers.” Julie shook her head and pressed on. “We need money to make the show. What’s our next move?”   

  Brett said quietly, “We were asked about an OnlyFans.” 

 Tom and Julie blanched and clutched their pearls.  Tom wasn’t wearing pearls, so he clutched where they would be. Julie didn’t know why she’d worn pearls today, but now she was glad that she had. Brett continued, “Not you. I’ve reached out to people we’ve mentioned on the show.” Tom waved his arms like he was trying to clear the room of flies. Agitated, he yelled “Sir, this is an ARBY’S.” Julie sprang up. “Brett, that’s his safeword. This conversation is over.  Leave us out of it.”

Later

  Brett sent out an invitation to a night shoot. He was nervous, but curious.

The first arrival was a gangly white boy with glasses like the Tootsie Roll owl. “I’m Potok Philippe, like the luxurious watch, but I’m luxurious to watch.”

Brett ushered him into the studio, a small room with tarps, some mood lighting, some rubs and glazes, and a couple bowls of dry cereal. The Canadian rapper settled in.

Next, Jiminy Glick stood on the stoop, red-faced, wiping his glasses. “I’m so excited to be here, with the YOUNG PEOPLE, the MOVERS AND SHAKERS.  Your invite made me positively RANDY.” 

Potok looked up, concerned, and asked Brett, “Hey, are there chicks coming?”

“I think so. Please, have some cereal while you wait. It’s low-carb.”  Brett relaxed when he heard voices outside in a higher timbre.  Opening the door, he found the Hamburglar, Birdie the Early Bird, and the Fry Girls from McDonald’s.  He let the girls in, but stopped the Hamburglar.  “Too many dudes, man.  I’m sorry.”  “Robble robble”, said the masked criminal, turning away sadly.

  Brett stopped Birdie in the hallway to ask, “are you old enough to be here?”

“I hatched in 1986.  I’m a big bird now.” He pointed at the Fry Girls.  “What about them?  They don’t speak English, are they ok?” Birdie laughed, “Do you smell that?”  The smell of hot tallow had started to permeate the hallway. “That’s how they give consent.”

The Party Begins

 Glick looked up and clapped his hands. “I’m so delighted and absolutely aroused!” He opened his arms to the trio of Fry Girls, who ran to him.  Soon they were a blur of yellow, red, and blue, with flashes of pink flesh exposed.

  Potok purred to Birdie,  “I’ll take you out for a fancy dinner.”  “How about breakfast instead?” she chirped. He laid her down, gently removing her scarf and goggles. Before her head hit the poured concrete floor, she felt a firm pillow sliding beneath it.  She looked to see the My Pillow Guy blushing, fingering a crucifix with his free hand.  “Jesus watches over me, but I watch over you,” he whispered, backing into the dark recesses of the room.

  Next were Dave Grohl and Jimmy Fallon. Neither could believe how great it was.  “Hey, it’s the Fry Girls, awesome!” Dave enthused. “I’ve always crushed on them!” Two of them broke away from the sweaty Glick and stroked the Foo Fighter through his dark rinse denim.  

The Final Guest

  Then, Brett wheeled in a giant plant, marked AUDREY 2. She was six feet tall, beautiful, covered in tendrils. Jimmy Fallon gazed at her as her vines found his fly zipper, and then the erogenous zones of everyone in the room. She brought each participant to the most intense climax they had ever experienced, simultaneously. Silently, the Onlyfans counter hit a new record.

The Morning After

The next day, Brett hosed down the room for the Godcast and counted out the money. “Puppets,” moaned Tom at the news. “Why did it have to be puppets?”