Comedian: Alright, you guys are a great crowd! But I need to tap into your soul. I need something deep. Forget lighthearted topics! I want the opposite of a Crumbl cookie! Give me a topic that screams sadness! Give me something that makes you tear up!
(A woman in the third row, “Sarah,” raises her hand tentatively.)
Comedian: Yes, ma’am, in the blue top! What is your wellspring of sorrow? What tragic topic are we diving into tonight?
Sarah (Slightly shaky voice): My childhood dog. We adopted him from the shelter when I was seven, and he was already older. He was the best dog, but we only had him for about five years before he got sick.
(A collective “Aww” rises from the audience. The comedian freezes, eyes wide, with an exaggerated look of sudden, profound sadness.)
Comedian: Woah. Hold on. We just went from a comedy club to a funeral home. Five years? That’s rough. (Leans into the mic.) Can someone back there play “Angel” by Sara McLaughlin? I feel like we need the official soundtrack for this segment of my set.
(The crowd laughs, but there’s still a genuine atmosphere of sadness.)
The Soundtrack of Sorrow
Comedian: I didn’t ask for a topic that would make me question my life choices, Sarah! You’re telling me about a senior rescue dog that you lost too soon? That’s like hitting a comedian with a velvet-covered brick of pure grief!
(The comedian paces the stage, looking mock-distraught.)
Comedian: Think about the implications! That dog was probably so grateful to you for those five years! He lived his best life! And now you’re here, in a comedy club, still holding onto that beautiful, painful memory.
Comedian (Whispering, imitating a charity ad): For just sixty cents a day, you can sponsor a struggling comedian who just had his energy completely drained by a tear-jerker dog story.
(The audience laughs again, the tension easing slightly.)
Comedian: But seriously, that’s beautiful, Sarah. It is. But I have to ask the necessary follow-up: What was the dog’s name?
Sarah: Buster.
Comedian: Buster. (Comedian repeats the name with unnecessary dramatic emphasis.) Of course, it was Buster. It’s never a dog named, like, “Mr. Fartles.” It’s always Buster. Or Max. Or some name that guarantees maximum emotional damage.
The Pivot to Punchline
Comedian: So, Buster was older. You know what that means? You had five years of pure love, but you also had five years of him judging your seven-year-old decisions.
Comedian (Mimicking a dog voice, deep and gravelly): “Sarah, is that crayon really necessary on the wallpaper? I’m trying to nap here. And are you going to finish that crust? Because if not, I’m taking one for the team.”
(The crowd is back to laughing comfortably.)
Comedian: He was probably the perfect, grumpy old man dog. Five years of dignity, five years of loyalty, and then he just quietly clocked out, leaving you with that beautiful, melancholic memory.
Comedian (Clapping their hands together sharply): And that is why I am a cat person! Cats are emotionally unavailable! If I start crying about a cat, the cat just stares at me and judges my poor life decisions. There is no guilt! There is no Sara McLaughlin song! There is only cold, hard indifference!
(The comedian bows slightly toward Sarah.)
Comedian: Thank you, Sarah. You brought the realness tonight. You brought the tears. You brought the ASPCA commercial straight into this stand-up set. Sara McLaughlin would absolutely be proud. Now, can we go back to talking about IKEA? I need something emotionally neutral!
