Sometimes I Love Customers
As a comedian, I get approached after shows.
Sometimes I receive a simple shake of the hand, possibly a clap on the back and a “good job.” I’ve been offered both room keys and offers of sex from men and women, and have on an occasion (or more) taken the woman up on it. And, more often than not, I get offered jokes.
“You can use this one” is the bane-phrase of almost every comedian’s existence. Usually, the joke is something racist, hack, or taken from the Internet. What it rarely is, is something original or interesting. Last night, however, I had the pleasure of meeting two wholly original, honest and entertaining people.
I have a joke, the gist of which I will not go into, but which has the closing tag, “…and don’t forget to wash your hands.” The phrase allows me to get one final little chuckle from the audience as I then segue into my next bit. Last night, however, after I uttered it, two people erupted in enormous table-pounding applause and gut busting, choking laughter.
I was taken back, and said, “That is too much laughter for such an innocent phrase; there’s a story behind that outburst.”
(I often speak using semi-colons)
They waved me off, saying, “Inside joke,” and I moved on and forgot all about it. Fortunately, they remembered all too well and after the show decided to share with me their story.
A few weeks ago, the husband was making burritos, and he enjoys the spicy variety. Habanero peppers, the hottest of the hot chili peppers, were the call of the day. His wife reminded him repeatedly, “Don’t forget to wash your hands; those things burn skin.”
(She speaks using semi-colons, too)
She said she must have told him a half-dozen times to keep his hands clean, and every time he said he indeed was soaping it up.
Later that night, they were feeling frisky, and decided to play with one another’s naughty parts. To get her juices flowing, that he may enter unimpeded, he offered up a little manual stimulation. His fingers went a-wandering, turning their little circles and stimulating the blood flow necessary to excitement.
Naturally, moments like that create a warming sensation in the nether regions, but that night everything felt a little too warm…
…and it was continually getting warmer.
So much so, to the point it was actually hot down below, like the fires of hell.
So much so, to the point she said she had to up, jump and rush into the bathroom, yelping in pain as she “drenched a washcloth in cold water and shoved it up my cooch.”
Her husband, you see, works with his hands for a living, making them hard and calloused, and therefore immune to the effects of the Habanero pepper. So while he didn’t feel its burn, she definitely felt it in the transfer.
When I said, “…and don’t forget to wash your hands…”
Oddly enough, they didn’t say, “You can use that for your show” after telling me their tale of overheated passion.