The Weekday One Hundred

“You missed a spot,” said one.

“Two spots,” the second one added.

“She pays you to do this?” chided the third.

I ignored their jabs and continued with my chores. Sweeping and straightening and polishing. Even with no customers, this comedy club was somehow still a mess.

And the boys sat at the bar and nursed their drinks. They were angry. I understood that. They wanted to get paid for their work. Got that too.

So, I let them wallow in misery and practice their material even though they should be outside on the picket line.

Comedians to the end.