The Last Lonely Lounge Comic - The End Of The World


Picture a run down lounge with wall to wall pink carpeting. An imitation silk curtain hung above a fake mahogany floored stage and you've got the Last Lonely Lounge. Empty two seat tables line the theatre, where in the back there might be a single couple in the audience, though they're not listening.


After all the Comic is the background to their life, not his. However, this section of the blog is a unique escape. For it is the home of the Last Lonely Comic. This is all about his vocation which is humour or what may appear to be.



In a leisure suit that went out of style in the eighties, he approaches and speaks into the microphone:

The End Of World


This whole end of the world thing has me really frightened. 


Especially in 2020. 


Halloween too.


I mean Halloween comes every year.


So when it comes to horror, it seems kind of lacklustre.


Like that jump scare you've seen once too often.


Compared with the end of the frickin' world its pretty tame.


Some people don't believe in the end of the world.


I think they're part of the plot to end it.


They're just biding time since their botched attempt on Y2K.


I was talkin' with someone the other day about deforestation.


I was saying that if it keeps up at current rates, we'll have no forest or jungle at all by 2035.


He was like:


"No, no, no. Don't be crazy. The forest grows back faster than we can cut it. Nature just balances everything fine."


As he was saying that, I realized that it was kind of like a guy who encourages you to keep smoking while you're refueling your propane car.


"No, no, no. Don't be crazy. That stuff will never blow. Ever. That whole Hindenburg thing was a conspiracy. Like Roswell. Cigarettes are nutritious, especially when mixed with highly volatile substances like propane."


Hydrogen is the most common element in the universe.


Its like star farts.


Apparently stars fart often.


Fusion powered nuclear farts.


So often that most of the elements that make us up are from star farts.


We're the stuff of stars'...            ...farts.


A bit of hydrogen.


Sometimes helium, which makes star voices really high.


Carbon. Oxygen. 


We look out into the cosmos all the time with telescopes.


X-ray observatories.


Gravity wave sensors.


Tell me, what do we see with these things?


Planets colliding with stars and black holes eating each other.


Supernovas destroying whole sections of a galaxy.


Everywhere we look, something big is on a collision course for something bigger than it.


I mean, come on!


As Jay Melosh once said: "We're living in a frickin' shooting gallery!"


I sometimes wonder how everyone else can remain so calm?


Remember Shoemaker-Levy?


The comet that hit Jupiter?


The explosion on the surface of Jupiter was as big as the Earth.


Like Mother Nature is saying to us:


Come on. 


You wanna dance? 


Let's dance...


We're like:


Yeah! 


YEAH! 


We got NUKES!


She's like:


Didn't anyone ever tell you not to bring nukes to a SUPER MASSIVE BLACK HOLE FIGHT?


I've also got two concealed SUPERNOVAS up my skirt.


C'mon.


Mess with me!


Mother nature. 


She's kinky.


Maybe a sadomasochist. 


In which case we're screwed.


I played Poker with Mother Nature once.


Five card stud.


No. Really. She's a wild gal that one.


In fact, I learned something about playing Mother Nature.


Don't play against Mother Nature.


I'm serious!


So I played her and I was dealt a Royal Flush.


I bluffed it of course.


I mean I wanted to see how much I could bilk her.


So on the first bet, she looks at me.


She looks at my visible cards.


A ten of spades. A jack of spades. A queen of spades. Two cards still in my hand.


It was pretty obvious.


She looks at hers.


She's got a three of diamonds. An 8 of clubs. A six of hearts.


For those of you who don't know, that's pretty much a nothing hand.


Statistically speaking, almost no chance of a win there.


Yet, she takes every chip she has and bets it all.


I mean everything.


She had no hand whatsoever.


So stupid me, I thought I'd see her bet, and try to raise her.


I threw in the keys to my car.


Actually it wasn't my car.


It was the car of the friend who drove me to the bar where Mother Nature hangs out.


So she calls my bet.


I show her my cards, revealing a full Royal Flush on spades.


She just laughs and says:


"I win." and picks up the pot, car keys and all.


I'm like: "No way! I won that fair and square!"


Just then, it gets reeeal cold and a giant glacier forms on the card table, freezing everything in three feet of solid ice.


She replies: "No you didn't."


I said: "Let's play again. Let me at least win back what I lost?"


She replied: "In thirty five thousand years. After everything thaws."


...


What happens to deleted computer files?


I think they get thrown out of our computers.


They become homeless.


On the internet.


The internet is like skid row for computer files.


When you clear your recycle bin, they just get dumped onto the internet.


Like an eviction.


Your word documents.


Your spreadsheets.


Your chat logs.


Your browser history.


The pics and videos of you that aren't quite taken from your best side.


They're out there alright, they just ain't got no home.


You ever stop to think that these files actually know everything about you?


I mean they were with you for the long haul.


They have most of your most personal and private data.


They know all of your personal secrets.


Yet here they are cajoling with other discarded files, sharing secrets.


I think that's how the world is going to end.


These discarded files are all going to gang up on us.


I mean they know everything about us.


So the other day while I was hiding from the end of the world, I get a knock on my door.


I answer from behind the door: "Hello?"


A voice on the other side of the door says: "Hi. Haven't heard your voice for a long time. How are you?"


I say: "Who is this?"


The voice replies: "It's me. Beer."


I say: "I told you never to come back. What do you want?"


The voice responds: "I've changed."


"How?" I ask.


"I'm lower calorie now. I'm healthy. Less filling. Much safer. Nutritious even." the voice replied.


"How can I believe you?" I replied.


"Look. Are you going to open the door or not?" the voice replied.


"Just go, before I call the Police!" I responded.


"C'mon! It's warm out here. I need a damn fridge! Let me in! I'm different now!" the beer replied.


"I don't believe you." I replied.


"It's true. Just open the door." the beer replied.


"Why should I believe you?" I asked.


"...I'm canned now. No more twist off. No more bottle openers. Pleease! You have to believe me!" the beer cried.


"Alright. I'll let you in. But you can't sleep in the fridge. You can only stay tonight. Tomorrow, you have to find another place." I firmly advised the beer.


So I open the door and the first thing the beer did was run for the fridge.


So I turned to Mother Nature, who just happened to have shacked up with me after the our card game.


Actually I shacked up with her. I mean she won everything I had.


So I turned to her and asked her to help me out.


She said: "Sure thing. Anything for my honey bun..."


With a twitch of her nose, an inch-thick layer of ice formed around the fridge.


I said "thanks, honey".


I checked the fridge and the beer.


Let me tell you, the beer was reeeal cold.


So I opened one, and beer's been with us ever since.


Silence from the absence of applause and the lack of beer for the audience.


Written by Brian Joseph Johns


If laughter is the best medicine, please support comedians like (Doctor) Yumi Nagashima, a Goddess of comedy and of course, Quebec's own Just For Laughs Gags.


Copyright © 2020 Brian Joseph Johns

https://www.shhhhdigital.ca

https://www.twitter.com/MediaShhhh








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Sure. I love defeating copyright and content thieves.

Hate doesn't mean love and love doesn't mean hate and love doesn't mean blood.

Sincerity before polarity. Reality before fantasy.

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