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The truth is, Richie's fallen into a bit of a routine lately. Stand up sets any night he can get a slot or find an open mic, shifts at the Phoenix, shooting the shit with Bill, Stan and Neil at home. He catches up with Eddie and Bev pretty often, but the truth is, he's been pretty focused the past few months.
It's fucking weird.
But the more he's on stage, the more comfortable Richie feels. The more laughs he gets. He's starting to get actual applause when they announce his name at a few of the Darrow comedy clubs.
He feels like his set still needs a lot of work, but he's getting laughs at the right places, the pacing feels good, the stage feels good. He talks about himself, about Derry-- what he remembers anyway, about Eddie and Regan and the Losers. Most of his set is pretty self-depreciating, but it kills just about every time. There's this bit he does about how fucking blind he is without his glasses that sends the crowd into an uproar.
Tonight's set is probably his best yet. There's something about the energy of the room, and Richie even does a little crowd work, digging up an old Voice to talk about a t-shirt some guy in the front row is wearing.
He feels really fucking good as he walks off stage, his heart pounding in his chest and his head almost dizzy. So much so, that he almost doesn't notice the unfamiliar face among the usuals backstage. At least not until he's already next to Richie, holding out his hand.
"Tozier, right? Hell of a set," he says, and Richie's skeptical.
"Sorry, flop sweat," he says, deciding not to shake, "Fucking... heckler's been following me. If you see a 5 foot nothing guy in a Space Hospital t-shirt, tell him to fuck off for me."
"Funny," the guy says, though he doesn't sound like he thinks it is. "Look, I'll keep it brief. I'm with the Johnny Saxon Show and we want to offer you a spot on the show next week. Come on, do your set, talk to Johnny for a few minutes. We think you'll kill."
Richie stops short, his eyes going wide behind his glasses.
"For a second I thought you were another chucklefucker, but hey, this is a hell of a lot better."
"Chuckef--"
Richie extends his hand.
"Where do I sign? Is it electronic? If it's not electronic, I'm gonna need a pen, dude."
It's fucking weird.
But the more he's on stage, the more comfortable Richie feels. The more laughs he gets. He's starting to get actual applause when they announce his name at a few of the Darrow comedy clubs.
He feels like his set still needs a lot of work, but he's getting laughs at the right places, the pacing feels good, the stage feels good. He talks about himself, about Derry-- what he remembers anyway, about Eddie and Regan and the Losers. Most of his set is pretty self-depreciating, but it kills just about every time. There's this bit he does about how fucking blind he is without his glasses that sends the crowd into an uproar.
Tonight's set is probably his best yet. There's something about the energy of the room, and Richie even does a little crowd work, digging up an old Voice to talk about a t-shirt some guy in the front row is wearing.
He feels really fucking good as he walks off stage, his heart pounding in his chest and his head almost dizzy. So much so, that he almost doesn't notice the unfamiliar face among the usuals backstage. At least not until he's already next to Richie, holding out his hand.
"Tozier, right? Hell of a set," he says, and Richie's skeptical.
"Sorry, flop sweat," he says, deciding not to shake, "Fucking... heckler's been following me. If you see a 5 foot nothing guy in a Space Hospital t-shirt, tell him to fuck off for me."
"Funny," the guy says, though he doesn't sound like he thinks it is. "Look, I'll keep it brief. I'm with the Johnny Saxon Show and we want to offer you a spot on the show next week. Come on, do your set, talk to Johnny for a few minutes. We think you'll kill."
Richie stops short, his eyes going wide behind his glasses.
"For a second I thought you were another chucklefucker, but hey, this is a hell of a lot better."
"Chuckef--"
Richie extends his hand.
"Where do I sign? Is it electronic? If it's not electronic, I'm gonna need a pen, dude."
