'The Comedian' Allen Chaney SE1E2: Misdirection

'THE COMEDIAN' ALLEN CHANEY
Season 1: Episode 2
Misdirection

"My psychiatrist told me I was crazy and I said I want a second opinion. He said okay, you're ugly too." 

-Rodney Dangerfield

Allen looks at him. Allen’s arms are folded and he’s not breaking eye contact. The Comedian was wearing pajama pants and a t-shirt with an unidentifiable purple smudge from yesterday. He didn’t remember eating anything that was purple. No jelly or jams were had. It was as much a mystery to the owner as it was to any observer. Really the crown jewel of this ensemble were a pair of plain black Crocs. No socks. People always want to talk trash on Crocs but if you don’t give a shit about fashion or having anyone touch your genitals and want a pair of shoes you can just throw in the dishwasher then you really can’t go wrong with a good pair of Crocs.

Allen had been told that Dr. Howell had a history of dealing with athletes and entertainers and Allen was technically both. Allen at the very least had to be here to keep his new job. At least it wasn’t AA.

Tick. Tick.

The ticking of the clock was very loud. People in the therapy industry do that on purpose. The ticking of the clock makes the silence way more noticeable. They want to make silence uncomfortable. They want you to talk. They want that ticking to make the silence feel like torture.

Allen Chaney was not taking this bait.

He dressed like this because he wanted to send the message to the therapist that he didn’t care about any of this, but he’s starting to realize that maybe the therapist realized he dressed that way to show he didn’t care and it was revealing too much of his hand. If he was making an effort to show he didn’t care then that effort meant he DID care.

Did this motherfucker even blink?

Allen wonders if he had been blinking?

He should blink less.

Now he’s thinking about not blinking and if you think about it it makes it even harder to not blink than if you had been thinking about it.

A minute passes.

Allen blinks.

He makes a face of frustration and an exhale of frustrated air that is the most sound that has been uttered in this room in the past 20 minutes.

Dr. Howell starts writing something down.

That FUCKER.

He knows. He knows that Allen was trying to seem like he didn’t give a shit about this but really he did which is why he was trying so hard to make it seem like he didn’t. And the reason he actually did is because he was aware that there was something inherently wrong with him. His sitcom was cancelled and he just wanted to return to stand-up which he was damn good at but the fucking Coronavirus took that from him so he just embraced isolation and that isolation turned into a hatred of everyone. Hatred of a world that took one look at what was supposed to be his big break and decided it wanted nothing to do with him. Allen looks at Dr. Howell and he doesn’t realize he is balling his fists as hard as he is. Hard enough that his hands started to shake and his knuckles were going white..

The clock ticks.

And thus Allen Chaney spirals into the pit of self. He wanted to go home where his cat and his television and his food was.

Tick. Tick

He wanted to be beating people up and winning a nice championship. Validation.

Tick. Tick. 

He wanted to be in the gym with a pair of earbuds in so he could just work out and not have to speak to anybody around him.

Tick. Tick.

He wanted to be doing a feature set at the Largo and making people laugh. Making people identify with him and everything he was going through and their laughter helping him realize that maybe it wasn’t as bad as he was making it out to be.

Tick. Tick. 

He wanted another TV show where he was the head of the writers room so he could show everyone that last show wasn’t his fucking fault.

Tick. Tick. 

He wanted to be close to someone and not get hurt. He wished he felt like he could show any single person a sincere emotion and not feel like he’s opened himself up to be fucking stabbed.

Tick. Tick.

He was happy for Johnny and Chelsea Fitzsimmons. He knew he was. Yet he couldn’t escape the mental image of the two of them standing over him, both so happy in newly wedded bliss as he bleeds on the floor. He wasn’t jealous that HE had HER at all.

Tick. Tick.

He was jealous of their happiness.

Tick. Happiness. Tick. Sincerity. Tick. Validation. Tick.Control. 

Tick. Tick.

Smash.

Allen didn’t even realize he had stood. Much less that he had stood up from the couch and punched the clock hard enough to break it. It falls off the wall and crashes to the floor.

And in the actual silence Allen hears Dr. Howell click his pen and set both the pen and notepad on his desk.

“That’s our time. I think this was a very productive first session, Allen. What do you think?” Dr. Howell asks.

“Fuck your mother.” Allen replies.

“I’m glad you agree. I’ll see you next week.” Dr. Howell says before he opens a drawer in his desk and takes out a replacement clock just like the one Allen broke.

Oh.

OH.

That FUCKER.

Allen was starting to think he liked him.

ALLEN CHANEY: Anyone can do it with enough practice.

Allen is on a nice stage in front of a curtain and he is far more well dressed than we are used to seeing him, wearing a pretty nice suit. He takes off the suit jacket and hands it off to an assistant that isn’t actually there so he just drops it on the ground. Now in a dress shirt and vest he unbuttons the sleeves of the shirt and rolls them up to his forearms. He shows that there is nothing up his sleeves. He is standing in front of a table with three metal cups and a red ball in front of each cup. He’s wearing a pretty nice bowler hat.

ALLEN CHANEY: I actually picked it up from a roommate before I saw Penn and Teller expose the guts of the bit, but I’m pretty sure it goes like this. Three Balls. Three Cups. Let’s see if I still got this.

Allen places each ball on top of each cup.

ALLEN CHANEY: Okay, first ball goes into my hand and just like any chance Pinky-Boy has of winning this match it is gone. Of course the metaphor doesn’t work entirely because we look under the first cup and would ya look at that? The ball is back and Pinkston still sucks because this is stage magic and not real magic which, along with Time Travel and interesting words coming out of the mouth of our current Champion are things that don’t exist. Sorry virgins.

Allen places the first red ball back atop the first cup and moves to the middle cup.

ALLEN CHANEY: Pretty fucking rad, huh? Let’s do it again with the middle. I take this ball, let’s say this ball is Kayla Richards. We squeeze our hand around the ball and...wait. Where the hell did she go? Hang on, let’s look under the cup.

Allen looks under the middle cup and there is a different ball with something written on it. Allen picks up the ball and looks at it.

ALLEN CHANEY: ...William? Who the fuck is William?

A production assistant walks up beside Allen with a clipboard and whispers something in Allen’s ear.

ALLEN CHANEY: William H. Macy? Like the actor? I love Mystery Men as much as anyone with taste but what is he doing in…

The Production assistant whispers something else.

ALLEN CHANEY: William Blake Mason? Who the fuck is that?

Once again the production assistant whispers something.

ALLEN CHANEY: Since 2008? Fucking WHERE? Whatever. Anyway. Yadda yadda yadda and now I disappear the third ball. Patter patter patter and…

Allen looks at the production assistant who was still on stage. The production assistant takes a moment to realize Allen is staring directly at him. Allen takes off his hat and sets it on the table to wipe the beading sweat of frustration from his forehead.

ALLEN CHANEY: What’s your name? Tim? I’ve decided it’s Tim. Hey Tim? You know how when Ricky Jay would do an awesome card trick there would be some random dipshit there with a clipboard? Wait no, that is not a thing that happened at all and I feel like maybe you aren’t getting this so GET OFF THE FUCKING STAGE, TIM!

‘Tim’ runs away as fast as his legs can carry him.

ALLEN CHANEY: Fuckin...anyway I couldn’t think of a metaphor for this part because I got zooted but uh…. Hey now I take all three balls and pocket them and holy shit all three balls are under one cup and they represent everyone else in the match and yo fuck them. I’m gonna throw them at Tim.

Sure enough Allen throws the three remaining balls at Tim.

ALLEN CHANEY: But in the end all of that was what we call misdirection for the big reveal.

Allen removes each cup one at a time to reveal full sized lemons with ‘ALLEN’ ‘WINS’ ‘LOL’ written on them.

ALLEN CHANEY: But even THAT was misdirection so you didn’t notice the BIG thing.

Allen picks up his hat he set on the table earlier and a coconut plops onto the table with a big sticker of the Comedian smiley face logo on it.

ALLEN CHANEY: So now the truth is out. I am so much more than the charming warrior with a sharp wit and pleasantly girthy penis you have all come to know and love. I’m also a master of magic. Or at least one magic trick, whatever. I know that was a long way to go to make a single point about only one of my opponents but I would counter that by saying that most of my opponents are boring to talk about and I latched onto the only interesting thing about any of them. The magic thing. Yeah. That’s a good way into this. We call that a hook. It’s a decent hook.

Allen makes a hook motion with his hands to emphasize his point then we see Allen briefly considering if maybe he could have come up with a better hook for this. It’s the burden of every great and handsome writer. Second-guessing themselves. Handsomely.

ALLEN CHANEY: I mean I coulda done a Pinky promo and had a drunk toddler go at my arm with a tattoo gun for this or did a Holly promo and...uhm… stared at a bucket of wallpaper paste for 20 minutes. Seriously you guys, Kayla Richards may be an absolute cunt but at least ‘big tiddy goth chick’ is a thing I can fucking talk about. Hell, she let Matthew Shields see her naked. I could do ten minutes on THAT alone. There’s a starting point there. This is sad. I’m sad now. You’ve all made me sad by sucking so much. William at least do me and everyone else the courtesy of like….wearing a silly hat or something. Fuck.

Allen takes a deep breath to let this sadness out before shaking it off and refocusing his attention.

ALLEN CHANEY: A ladder match for the Impulse Championship. In the main event where I belong. I guess Hulu got the numbers back to management after the first couple episodes and discovered how many people stopped watching after my matches because they’re the only thing worth watching. See? If you put Allen at the end of the show people will watch the whole thing to get to him. Like a fantastic dessert at the end of whatever mediocre meal the rest of the roster is offering. You can’t have your Allen Chaney Pumpkin Cheesecake unless you eat your brussel sprouts. Betsy Granger. Betsy Granger is if Brussel Sprouts was a wrestler.

Allen nods, content in the accuracy of his comparison.

ALLEN CHANEY: Anyway, since we’ve done all this magical horse shit I should probably talk about Zoey. You aren’t gonna stoop to my level? Hun, it’s good that this is a ladder match because you’re gonna need all the elevation you can get to even get on a level close enough to kiss my fat ass. See, you don’t get to pull this shit on me because I know how misdirection works. I probably know better than YOU do. I’ve got you all looking exactly where I want you to look. You want to present yourself as ‘normal’ and relatable so we take our eye off the ball. Talk about how hurt you are and how bad things are going for you. Who knows? Maybe there is some truth in that. But we all know a good Magician DOESN'T show you ANY cards they don’t want you to see.

A devilish and knowing smirk.

ALLEN CHANEY: Or to put it another way… You’re yelling at Tim so everyone looks at him while you load the fuckin coconut.

The guy with the clipboard from earlier walks back on and waves before walking off again.

ALLEN CHANEY: That’s right! Me and Tim are chill. I lied to you. I do that pretty much all the time. That’s probably something you’ve hopefully caught on to by now. Do you know who else is lying to you? Literally everyone else. Zoey Madigan-Star sat there in people clothes and lied directly to the camera. She sat there and played pitiful ‘poor me’ and ‘I’m just like you and my life is normal’. Make no mistake, Zoey recorded that bullshit in a cemetery for atmosphere and returned home to her very blessed life and make no mistake any of you watching….Zoey Madigan-Star thinks she is better than every single one of you. I mean, I also think I’m better than all of you but at least I’m honest about it. Huh, guess I’m not that much of a liar after all. Yeah, I can order DoorDash with one hand, Zoey. I can do a lot of shit with one hand. I can palm a card, jack off, and knock out snooty cunts who say they won’t stoop to my level in the same breath they use to call me ‘trash’.

With a flick of his hand Allen produces a Jack of Spades to emphasize both his point about palming a card and ‘jack’ ing off.

ALLEN CHANEY: Seriously, not that fucking hard. The Amazing Johnathan can do it and he couldn’t even stand at the last show I saw him. Hey, speaking of people who can’t stand… wait , no. Speaking of people who I and everyone else can’t stand...Pinky-dick!

Despite the fact Allen seeming ‘can;t stand’ Lewis Chad Pinkston. He uses the nickname he’s made for him the same way one would greet an old pal.

ALLEN CHANEY: Oh Pinky-Dick… Look at us. You think you’ve got it better than me yet here we both are, talking to cats. I mean, I talk to my cat because he’s better and more interesting than any one of you awful people but it’s pretty clear Pinky-Dick is talking to Ollie Dorito because no one else will be his friend. That’s sad. I’m sad again. You people keep making me sad.

Allen has to shake off the sadness.

ALLEN CHANEY: Pinky-Dick. I really want to level with you here because you clearly have no clue what you’ve gotten yourself into. Look man...I just want to level with you here. When I started out in this industry people talked a looooot of shit about how I didn’t belong here. I was a different guy back then and was so concerned with wanting people to like me but all I got were the same comments I get to this day about my weight and how ‘haha aren’t comedians supposed to be funny’ and it really sucked, man. It really got me down but I rose above it and in my first year I won my first World Championship. It felt amazing to have that kind of validation after all those awful things everyone said. So having gone through all those people telling me I don’t belong in the Wrestling industry I feel like I really am the guy to tell you something you probably need to hear.

Allen takes a deep breath, ready to offer his sincere, profound, and friendly advice.

ALLEN CHANEY: You...ACTUALLY don’t belong in this industry. You doodle pad tattooed, methed-out chihuahua looking fuck.

Allen looks proud of himself for offering such sound veteran advice. He finds himself briefly considering writing a self-help book.

ALLEN CHANEY: You’ve got youth on your side so it isn’t too late to save you from getting too involved in this wrestling thing and get you a job in a Portland Dispensary or as a really disappointing Soundcloud rapper and if you wear long sleeves I’m sure Staples will take your job application. You seem like a guy I’d buy some printer paper from for the one time every couple of years I need to use my printer. You’re the kinda fella I’d buy an Arizona tea from so I don’t feel weird about the fact that I only need to use the bathroom. Be prepared to direct people to the Staples bathroom. That’s pretty much what Staples is for now: Biennial printer paper and canned Arnold Palmer purchased entirely to subsidize the guilt of running into an office supply store to unload violent emergency diarrhea. At least you’ll have a nice story to tell all the customers about how you were in the ring with wrestling royalty a few times as they try not to shit all over their pants. This will be your legacy. Years from now when people recount the incredible Impulse Championship reign of Allen Chaney they will say ‘He won it in a ladder match with Magic Bitch and uh….some other people’.

Allen’s mocking smirk fades to something a little more serious and sinister.

ALLEN CHANEY: I would be this companies top champion right now if it weren’t for you getting your dumb ass tossed at me. You took something from me and now you wanna chill out with a cat and be a meme or whatever. No. That’s a firm no. We’ve been placed into a match where after all that you have taken away from me….I can really really hurt you. I am not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. If I can win the Impulse Championship AND fast track this little bitch to Staples. That’s two wins in my book. This is all part of your plan, Pinky? Well maybe your plan sucks dick. Like I said before, I get to beat up the Make-A-Wish kid playing wrassler. As opposed to Make-A-Wish GROWN UP in this match.

Allen makes a hand motion as if saying ‘on the OTHER hand’.

ALLEN CHANEY: That’s really what you are, aren’t you William? Suffering from Terminal blandness so you’re given a shot at this match you absolutely do not deserve even a little bit. Yeah I know who you are, that was a bit earlier. Still a liar. Kayla Richards gets pulled from this match for the ‘heinous and awful’ thing she did and you just get handed a golden ticket here you absolutely did nothing to earn. For anyone that doesn’t have a bias detector, Kayla Richards was taken out of this match for DARING to speak out to management and meanwhile our World Champions squeeze snaps some hot broads arm and management ain’t said a peep about it. Sure sounds like Billy is a bit of a Teachers pet to me.

Allen shrugs, letting the potential accusation sink in a bit.

ALLEN CHANEY: Well Billy… there’s an issue here. I’ve heard you’ve accomplished a lot and I could give two tugs about any of that bullshit. All you’ve done so far HERE is show up and lose and get a massage from the French broad with nice cans. I’m a little more interested in the part of your history where you were a sick fuck just like me. That’s the kinda guy I want to fight. I’m half-chubbed just thinkin about it. So I want you to imagine something for me, Billy. I want you to imagine me grabbing that French broad you seem so fond of….and giving her a Punchline through a fucking ladder. Maybe lock her in the same armbar that my mentor locked her in that put her on the shelf for so long. Really finish clipping the wing off that Rainbow Angel. I want you to think REALLY REALLY hard about me doing that. Are you thinkin about it? I’m thinkin about it. I know I said I was at half chub earlier but now? It’s a good thing I’m standing behind this table.

Allen looks down at where his ding dong be then back at the camera, that sadistic smirk having returned.

ALLEN CHANEY: Does that light a fire under you, Billy? I really hope so. Lord knows I’m not gonna get much of a fight out of Pinky-Dick and if your most recent match is any indication you’ve REALLY missed a step or two or 50. Show me something, man. This violence nut ain’t gonna bust itself. Gonna need a hell of hankey to clean it up.

Allen reaches to the breast pocket in his vest with anticipation, clearly setting up for a magic trick and then he…. Takes out a handkerchief and wipes the sweat from his forehead.

ALLEN CHANEY: What? I didn’t prep another trick. I’m not gonna make a habit of this. 99% of dudes who learn magic are completely unfuckable dudes praying to God some flash paper and a deck of cards can melt a drunk girl's panties. I’m sure a lot of jokes to the contrary will be made but believe it or not I’m not that desperate. If you ever see me at a bar pouring salt into my closed fist or turning a stick into some flowers do me a favor and stab me in the throat til I bleed out on the floor.

Allen points to his jugular for emphasis.

ALLEN CHANEY: And speaking of...whatever I was talking about. I’ve completely lost the ability to do segways at this point… There’s Holly Rhodes. Holly Rhodes. Holly...Rhodes.

ALLEN CHANEY: She’s uh… she’s strong and stuff. Like so fucking strong you guys.

Allen just shrugs.

ALLEN CHANEY: Look, I can’t really give Holly too much shit. I mean, she’s with me in the small club of people in this title match who actually, you know, DIDN’T LOSE AT THE LAST SHOW. She also very accurately noticed that I am the biggest threat in this match so at the very least she has common sense on top of being pretty athletic which in most other companies means she’d win the World Championship five times over. But this is not any other company and I am smarter than her and I’d really like to see her try and toss me around like she does the under 200-pound sticks in this company. Anyway, don’t mistake any of this for ACTUAL respect because fuck you. I’m taking the belt. Glamour muscles look nice but they don’t actually protect you from shit. Abs don’t do dick against the steel of a ladder. I’m actually probably better off in that regard.

Allen smacks his big tummy.

ALLEN CHANEY: Pinky and so many others like to spout the word ‘failure’ at me like a buzzword. They think they’re really sticking it to me. I never said my failures don’t matter. My failures have nearly broken me. Over and over and over again I have been beaten down by this existence and every single time I have stood back up with a smile and both middle fingers raised. You all just sat there and either ignored or laughed as I failed. What do you think that does to a person? I want you to think real real fuckin hard about it. Zoey wants to talk about how we’re all normal people outside of this ring and we have to turn this off. I don’t turn this off. That’s a blatant misrepresentation of who I am. You all may be showing up to play some character and get your faces on tv but this is who I am. I’m...guys I’m a real piece of shit.

Allen chuckles. No magic and no lies. Everything is very very real for a moment.

ALLEN CHANEY: I wake up every day and I have to bottle up fucking everything just to function and make a paycheck. I bottle all of this up and that cork comes off of the bottle the moment the bell rings. And now there’s ladders? Fuck me with a soft dick. This may be one of the greatest days of my life. Christmas came early and this Scrooge didn’t have to deal with a single fucking Ghost AND he gets to powerbomb Tiny Tim through a ladder. God bless me, everyone.

The smugness briefly gave way to a bit of mania. But Allen quickly composes himself once more. He unrolls his sleeve and buttons up the sleeves of his shirt.

ALLEN CHANEY: I was not broken by my failures. I was tempered by them. So forget about misdirection in regards to magic. Comedy can be about subverting expectations in the exact same way. You all talk about my failures as if it is supposed to demoralize me. To make me feel lesser. You’re all looking exactly where I wanted you to and the big finale is about to happen right under your noses. All that’s left is making sure this joke gets it’s proper ending. Setup.

Allen picks up the suit jacket he took off earlier and puts it back on, buttoning it and straightening himself out a bit.

ALLEN CHANEY: Punchline.

He’s laying alone in his sad cat dad apartment and he’s trying not to think too hard about his meeting with Dr. Howell.

But he can’t really help it.

So he gets an idea.

Bill finishes eating the food in his bowl and walks over to curl up beside Allen on the couch.

“This is probably a pretty terrible idea, huh?” Allen says to Bill. Bill has no response to offer Allen. Bill is a cat. If Bill was capable of speaking he would likely tell Allen to feed him more, pet him more, and to fart less.

The match was soon. It was time to put his money where his mouth is. To turn all of this failure and anger into something productive. Something tangible. Something that would justify all of it.

The Impulse Championship.

Allen releases a deep breath.

He puts on his headphones and opens up his phone.

Youtube search.

Clock ticking.

8 hours.

Play.

Tick. Tick.

“Never pick a fight with an ugly person, they've got nothing to lose."

-Robin Williams