A Thief Telling Some Jokes, Part 1: The Gathering

Martin has, for the time being, gotten out of his mess. By borrowing from Michelle, he has wisely transferred his debt from the bank – a large organization with thugs at its disposal – to a levelheaded family member, officially hauling him out from waist-deep financial shit. Kiefo sent Rico over a little past midday to make sure Martin paid up. In return, Martin revealed that he did indeed have the money and also that he planned on doing a show that night. Rico said he’d pass the word along

Now Martin is wondering what to do before his show. He’s lucky to have a friend who will let him pop up on stage every once in a while for a quick buck. His friend, Herb, seems to have the club and bar concept nailed, because despite being nestled in the shitty ghetto near Ian’s house, Herb draws in all kinds of business.

While trying to figure out what he should be doing with his time, Martin calls up Randy, yet another crazy S.O.B. in the string of crazies that Martin has to deal with on a regular basis. The only difference is that Randy is a sort of miracle worker with handyman-type jobs and car repair. Back to the crazy, though: Randy has the strange idea that building up a reputation of stealth will get him noticed by someone important enough to give him a life-changing job. So how does he integrate stealth into this handyman lifestyle? By doing all fund transfers electronically, Randy repairs things without alerting their owners to his presence. His clients never even meet him. This means his jobs require a significant amount of intelligence gathering – not to mention breaking and entering – but the bastard does it. Martin figures that if he calls Randy before his show, the window will probably be replaced before he gets back.

Sigh. Martin knows he should be calling Hilda, but he doesn’t know what to say. She may believe in karma, but surely she’ll question why he feels so compelled to give her money to pay what’s owed for her car. Martin isn’t known for his generosity as much as his bitchiness. Ah, what the hell? He calls her.

“Martin! Hi.” The constant cheeriness is grating to Martin. No one should be this happy after their car gets repossessed.

“Hey there. Um…you doing anything tonight?”

“Well, I was going to dye my hair, but that doesn’t usually take me very long.”

Martin heaves a long sigh. “How do you still have hair? It boggles the mind. Boggles it.”

“Look, I told you: PeteLab has all kinds of fixes for color treatments that I’m trying out. It’s a good supplementary income.”

And you still can’t meet your car payments? Thankfully, Martin has the presence of mind to internalize. “Yeah yeah. I still think a different color every day is ridiculous.”

“I’m just trying to be thorough AND quick.”

“The ladies must love you.”

“Martin!” Yeah, Martin needed to turn off the jokes.

“Sorry, I know you’re not a lesbian. We’ve had this conversation. Blah blah blah. Sorry. Oh, and I didn’t mean to miss your call today. I guess I didn’t notice my phone ringing.”

“Oh, that’s okay. I ended up just getting a ride from Bax.” Ah, Baxter, a priest after Martin’s heart. Bax once gave a series of sermons on the laziness of God. He wasn’t allowed back to that church.

“Baxter’s around? If he is, you should both come to my show tonight at The Glorious Hole. It’d be a cute little Jenkins family trip.”

“No no, he was just in town for a little while running some errands, I guess.”

“Shoot, well you should still come tonight. I actually have a present for you.” Two thousand dollars is a good gift, right? Do women like checks?

“A gift? You’re not doing another set on me, are you?” Oops. Martin forgot that he had done a whole set of jokes making fun of Hilda one night while both drunk and angry with her. He has ceased drinking and delivering.

“Oh lord, no. That was like…two years ago. I promise you I won’t be drunk. Hell, I have to drive over there. No DUIs for me.”

“Fine. Can you pick me up?” Oh, right.

“Yeah yeah, absolutely. I’ll come around your place at eight or so.”

“Alright, that sounds good. Talk to you then.”

“Uh huh. Bye.”

Phew. Now Martin had the opportunity to entertain her for a while, maybe loosen her up a bit before giving her a bunch of money. What an odd train of thought.

Martin, though not punctual for his sister, has the capacity to be on time when it suits him. He shows up at Hilda’s place promptly at eight o’clock. Once again, she is confusing him. She comes out wearing a cute dress and her hair is a normal color, maybe slightly red. The only thing Martin can hope for to break the spell is that she’ll say something stupid as soon as she gets in the car. Please oh please.

“Well hello!” Idiot. No, never mind. Not stupid.

“Sup.”

“What do you think of this color?”

Totally suits you, AND it goes well with your dress. Mmph. “Better than your usual tendencies toward neon and blinding, at the very least distracting.”

“Oh, it’s not that bad. I figured I could tone it down for your show, though. Don’t want you catching a glimpse of my hair color and going off about the strangeness of hair dyes and blue monkeys or whatever it is you talked about last time.”

“Yeah, sorry about that.” Not sorry, but Martin’s doing his best to not directly cause any hostility. That’s against his principles.

“So what’s my gift?” Pfft.

“I’ll tell you after the show. Just relax.”

“How am I supposed to relax? You don’t normally give people random gifts. This must be interesting. Are you going to set a Bible on fire and tell me it’s actually a gift?”

“Jesus. I didn’t realize I was such a horrible, horrible bastard. Forget it.”

“No no, I’ll stop asking.” She’s grinning, though. Hilda is grinning malevolently at Martin. He can feel it.

“So I’m actually gonna go check to see if someone else wants to go before we head to the club. He only lives a few of blocks away from The Hole.”

“Is he my present?” Occasionally Martin gets the feeling that she is intentionally driving him to be dour, but that wouldn’t be particularly good for his career as a comedian.

“No,” Martin says sternly. “You might find him interesting, though. I know I sure did.”

It doesn’t take long for them to get to Ian’s house. Martin gets Hilda to wait in the car.

Martin knocks apprehensively. Last time he was at the house there wasn’t much argument with just opening the door, but he’s not sure if that was a one-time permission or what. As he goes to open the door on his own, Ian yanks open the door. Martin looks away in case Ian isn’t wearing pants again, but he’s actually fully clothed.

“Martin! Come in! We were just sitting down for tea!” Martin didn’t expect anything less than insanity. Ian is wearing a full tuxedo and a top hat. Wonderful.

Curiosity piqued, Martin peeks inside Ian’s house. New furniture is set up already, but there’s no one else inside. The guy from the bank made a good call when he wrote “crazy/drugs”; still no idea whether this is drugs or just an excellent form of psychosis. “You remember me from yesterday?”

“Of course, Martin! Of course. It’s not every day fellows come along to abscond with my belongings, but alas, I was behind on my payments. I suppose I’ll just have to be more careful in the future, yes?” Ian whips around and grabs a teapot. “Oh shoot, let me just grab another cup from the kitchen. I’ll only be a moment.”

Ian starts off down the hall with a fast, deliberate gait, but Martin calls after him. “Ian! Wait, man. Stop. I can’t stay.”

“And why not?” says Ian, turning around.

“I’m actually doing a show tonight. I just came here to invite you, assuming you’re available, of course.”

“Hmm.” Ian has to think for a moment. “I’ll have to tell my guests that I’m leaving, but I suppose I could go out for a bit. What sort of show is this? Vaudeville? Burlesque? A one-man retelling of your memoirs, perhaps?”

“Uhh…stand-up comedy.” The two are silent for a bit.

“I see. Yes, I think I shall attend, Martin.”

“Great! I can give you a ride over, actually. I’ll just wait outside so you can tell your guests that you need to leave.”

“Indeed.”

Martin nods and heads out to his car. Hilda seems confused. “Why aren’t we leaving?”

“Oh, he’s coming. He just needed to take care of something quickly, I guess.”

“Why was he wearing a tuxedo?”

Martin smiles. “He had guests for tea.”

Hilda has no response for this. Ian exits his house shortly, now wearing…a t-shirt and jeans. Seeing Hilda, Ian hops into the back seat.

Martin cranes his head around the driver’s seat. “Dude, what happened to the tux?”

“What?” Ian seems perplexed. He continues buckling his seatbelt.

“You were just in a tux and a friggin’ Abe Lincoln hat. Why did you change?”

“You must be referring to my loungewear. I would never leave my house in loungewear.” Hilda, having not been previously exposed to Ian, is utterly confused. Martin just fires off a solid thumbs up and starts the car.