'THE COMEDIAN' ALLEN CHANEY
Season 1: Episode 4
Creamy. Velvety. Polished.
Words had been exchanged in this session.
So it was already a huge improvement over the past few. There still was a lot of silence, though. Allen began to consider what he would have for lunch today before finally two words cut through the silence.
“Abandonment issues.”“...no fucking shit. Who the fuck is even paying you?” Allen asks, looking at Dr. Howell incredulously.
“The company you work for, as brokered by Mr. Fitzsimmons.”“Where did Demon Daddy dig YOU up.”“I am also Daniel’s therapist.”“Oh. What’s wrong with him?”“Your manager who spent decades convinced he was the Devil? Can’t really say.” Dr. Howell says before adjusting his glasses. Allen was almost tempted to chuckle but he held it in. He still hated this guy. He was still trying to keep up a poker face.
“Anyone with half a brain stem can take one look at my history and know that I have abandonment issues, you absolute HACK. Is our time up yet?” Allen says, looking at the clock on the wall.
“You can leave whenever you want, Mr. Chaney. I just have to let Daniel and your employer know.” Mr. Howell says, picking his pen back up.
‘Fuck.” Allen says simply.
“Indeed. So what are your plans for the rest of the day?” Dr. Howell says, ready to write.
“Fucking your-”
“I can assure you my mother is quite busy tonight so let’s try again.”There are a few moments of silence.
“I’m headlining at Laugh Factory. I’m supposedly meeting a Tinder date after but of the last two one didn’t show up.” Allen says.
“And the other one?”“That’s the one where I didn’t show up.” Allen admits.
“If you don’t mind my asking… how often are you headlining stand-up shows?” Dr. Howell asks. Allen levels a glare at him.
“The only reason I was on such a huge hiatus as a comic was because of the pandemic. I was in a cancelled network sitcom, that’s typically a DREAM for bookings. Did you ever see John Mulaney’s sitcom? It SUCKED and then he came back and absolutely started crushing it. I don’t claim to be on that level but now that clubs are open again I am working and it’s good. Unless you’re suggesting that I have some kind of bad reputation because I’ll have you know Dave Coulier gets booked all over the midwest doing the same shit he did on Full House and that guy is like, all the way a pedophile. I don’t have a drug problem anymore and I’ve never diddled any kids or had Alanis Morissette write any songs about me. I’m getting booked. For good money. So shape your implication into something real pointy and shove it right up your ass.” Allen says. Dr. Howell just smiles in response. He takes all of Allen’s verbal abuse in stride.
“It’s wonderful to hear you are successful in your artistic pursuits and are putting yourself out there.” Dr. Howell says while writing.
“You… are the worst.” Allen says.
“Are you going to show up for that date?” “Don’t know. Right now I’ll say yes but who knows how I’ll feel 8 hours from now?” Allen says honestly.
“What’s the worst that could happen?” Dr. Howell asks.
“I could eat some bad brisket and violently shit myself. Liquid waste pouring down my pants leg could cause my date to vomit on top of the shit and then there’d just be a big pile of shit and vomit on the floor. The moment could mentally break me and I would loudly announce to the whole building ‘I’M A SHITTY LITTLE MUD BOY AND I GOT A MUDDY BUTT’ and then I’d end up locked in some psych ward smearing my poop on the walls to spell out ‘MUD BOY’ forcing some medical intern to clean it up leading to their eventual suicide after which their mourning lover breaks into the hospital and kills me for revenge but one murder isn’t going to satisfy their blood lust. Soon they're killing chubby comedians left and right and using my wall scrawlings as their own menacing calling card. 3 years from now there’s a popular podcast called ‘The Muddy Butt Murders’ and eventually it gets a Netflix adaptation. Robert Pattinson gains 150 pounds to accurately portray me but the strain of all that weight gain eventually costs him his life and he doesn’t win the posthumous Academy Award he was nominated for. The last few Twilight fangirls now well into their 30’s forget to feed all 9 of their cats and frankly I like cats more than I like people and I don’t want all those cats to go unfed. That and I hear mental health facilities have really terrible food. I like cats and good barbecue too much to let all that happen. So, are you happy Doc? I showed up to the date because you said I had to and we killed Batman.” Allen says, finishing up and looking at the clock, that had to have eaten into most of their time.
“So how much of that was your actual anxiety and how much of it was you messing with me?” Dr. Howell asks.
“I’m not even sure anymore I blacked out halfway through all that and autopilot took over. Is my nose bleeding this time? No. We’re good.” Allen says with a shrug.
“Well for the record I’m not saying you ‘have’ to show up to that date. If you aren;t comfortable doing that yet then maybe you should wait. These kinds of social issues don’t just go way overnight but I think you’re making very good strides. Daniel told me you’ve made a friend and...well I could hardly believe what I was hearing.” Dr. Howell says.
“You couldn’t believe I made a friend? Real fucked up, my guy.” Allen says.
“Well it was more WHO he said you befriended.”“Yeah well I’ve made it pretty clear to Marty I’m not interested in being saved or waking up early on a sunday morning and as long as he keeps the Jesus-y stuff to a minimum we’re solid. Plus, we had a few drinks. It’s not like I’m invited over for Thanksgiving or anything like that.” Allen says, scratching his head.
“Well I’m proud of you for accepting someone aside from Bill into your social circle.”“Yeah well he’s nowhere near on Bill’s level but he seems like a solid dude.”“Well it looks like that’s our time. Anything else to add?” Dr. Howell says but Allen is already halfway to the door.
“Thought so. Have a good set, Mr. Chaney. “Allen simply grunts in response.
“A few months ago Nicki Minaj got on twitter and told the world that her ‘cousins friend’ living in Trinidad & Tobago got the vaccine and that it made his balls get as big as cantaloupes or some shit and that is pretty funny but it’s not the funniest part of the story. The funniest part is that this became so prevalent that the motherfucking HEALTH MINISTER of Trinidad & Tobago had to release an actual researched statement claiming that wasn’t a thing that could actually happen. Now I’m a pro wrestler, I’ve been on tv… but I definitely feel like I have a new level of fame to aspire to. Can you imagine being so fucking famous that actual doctors and scientists have to dedicate actual research time to publicly disproving whatever dumb shit falls out of your mouth.” Allen says, this gets a decent laugh from the crowd.
“I want to be so famous I can just unlock my phone and tweet ‘A guy I went to middle school with ate too much Smuckers Grape Jelly and it made nipples grow on his neck, WHAT ELSE AREN’T THEY TELLING US ABOUT JELLIES, JAMS, AND PRESERVES?!’ and a dude with an official government title funded by taxpayer money has to go on tv with a jar of jelly and question every decision he’s ever made to get him to this point in his life.” Allen says, a LOT of laughs. Allen chuckles to himself a bit, taking a pause to take a sip of his beer.
“People are talking about how ineffective the ‘Johnson and Johnson’ vaccine is and I'm not terribly surprised. They’ve been making that ‘no tears’ stuff for years and it’s bullshit. I used it to jerk off a few weeks ago and I was still crying the whole time.” Allen says, pausing at the laughter from the audience. Allen casually scratches his facial hair as he looks down at the notebook filled with scribbles and notes sitting atop the barstool beside him on stage. Does he play it safe? Does he go with some untested material?
“I'm glad I'm a comedian. Otherwise, my life would just be a series of undocumented low points.” -Kyle Kinane
ALLEN CHANEY: Man, it’s a hot one…
Allen fans himself off. It was true that it had been unseasonably warm as of late in the midwest. Allen was wearing an orange and yellow tropical shirt with pineapples on it and had a tiki mug in his hand he takes a sip from.
ALLEN CHANEY: Thicc Boi Summer has made it’s way well into the fall and let me tell you I’m still enjoying myself. The weather will inevitably cool down soon and I should be enjoying this but there is truly one place on this planet where I am actually in my element. That is inside the ring. Between the bells is where I am most comfortable. Where I am most….me. Do you know what that is like, Pinkston?
There is a small pause as if Allen briefly anticipates a response.
ALLEN CHANEY: No. Of course you fucking don’t.
Allen sighs and shakes his head before setting his drink down.
ALLEN CHANEY: To be entirely honest I have my doubts he even fucking shows up.
Allen shrugs.
ALLEN CHANEY: I’ll be more than a little impressed with him if he does. I’ve built a significant portion of my wrestling career on doing the sickest shit imaginable to people with little remorse. I know I just look like some fat fuck but by now you’ve all realized that not only can I fucking go when that bell rings but that if I am given a chance and the brakes are taken off then I will absolutely hurt whoever I am in the ring with and I know what you’re all thinking right off the bat. You’re thinking ‘Fans bring the weapons, huh? Well surely Allen doesn’t have any fans!’ and what a smart person you must be. Don’t go breaking your dick-yankin arm reaching to pat yourself on the back. What you’re missing here is that the Allen Chaney fanbase is made up mostly of neckbearded incels who post way too much about wrestling and think that I am one of them. For the record, I am not like you guys. I’ve done consensual sex on many very attractive people and I’ll hang myself before I put on a fedora. The Allen Chaney fanbase is hearing this right now and laughing because ‘Ah! He’s doing such a good job being a bad wrestle boy! Let’s buy front row tickets to see him and hand him various implements of violence!’. My fans are absolutely fucking terrible but they’re also the kinds of dumbasses who enjoy that kind of abuse.
Allen gives a big smile and lifts a middle finger to the awful 4Chan posting Incels that make up his fanbase.
ALLEN CHANEY: But make no mistake I want Pinky-Dick to show up. I NEED him to show up . He’s my reason for reason. The step in my groove. By all accounts I should be getting a shot at one of this companies' championships. A lot of you have been telling me this is a waste of my time and there’s a small part of me that agrees wit that sentiment. I should be preparing to out Magic Bitch as the hack fraud she is and taking the Impulse Championship or preparing to give Punchline or two to the sub-wit edgelord that humorlessly fuckstumbled into becoming the Excellence Champion. There is a common thread when it comes to the reason that those two have Championships and I don’t. A skinny little fucking thread that needs to be trimmed.
Allen mimics holding a thread in his fingers with one hand while wielding a pair of invisible scissors in one hand.
ALLEN CHANEY: I will sit here and say with my whole chest that I would have at least one Championship right now if not for Lewis Chad-Pinkston. I’m sure he considers that a point of pride. That’s good, Pinky. I want you to be real proud of the curse you have been on my run here in PWE. I’m not gonna try and lock you out of the arena again. I want you there and I want you smiling that big dumb shit smile of yours for the same reason I enjoy riding Splash Mountain at Disneyland. There’s all this whimsy and happiness. There’s childlike wonder and hope. And then…
Allen uses hand gestures to mimic the log flume lazilly floating along the river before suddenly it drops sharply.
ALLEN CHANEY: There’s a big fucking drop. That drop comes when you realize just how unprepared you really are. When you tie up with me and think ‘Hey! I should do an arm drag! I just learned to do one of those’ and it doesn’t work like your trainers showed you. As realization sets in, every drop of that confidence you came in with trickles down your leg and forms a yellow puddle on the canvas. You realize that you...do not….belong here.
Allen puts a lot of emphasis on that.
ALLEN CHANEY: I know I’ve said this before but I really want you to take this in. Nobody except for maybe that dingbat dicksleeve who you tricked into marrying you wants you in this industry. Even Ollie probably thinks you’d be better suited to maybe scooping his litter box for money or perhaps being a middlingly-successful soundcloud rapper. See, that’s the other hard part of having to tell you this….I can’t really suggest an alternative for you to pursue because it seems pretty apparent that if you put your focus on one thing and really REALLY put your mind to it that you still probably wouldn’t find any success with it.
Allen has the tone of a guidance counselor telling a student about their future if that student didn’t have one. The kind of Guidance counselor who goes behind the kids back to tell the parents ‘You’re probably safe spending that college fund on literally anything else.’
ALLEN CHANEY: You’re going to try and take credit for costing me what was rightfully mine but you didn’t even do that on purpose. I called you a curse before but the more I think of it that’s giving you too much credit. You’re a dipshit who wandered into the street during a parade. The parade everyone was enjoying so much can’t continue because your dumb ass is in the middle of the street, probably staring up directly into the sun. The parade has been waiting for a little bit, almost certain that eventually your teeny little goddamn peanut brain will form the thought ‘I should probably move out of the way’ but no. You’re just standing there and after giving you all the chances and time in the world to smarten up and get out of the way eventually it is decided that you aren’t going to figure it out and they just….run you the hell over. Festive float after festive float slowly churning you into a smooth red paste on the pavement. So smooth.
Allen is seemingly taking a moment ot enjoy this mental image.
ALLEN CHANEY: Some will claim you are my rival. Some will say that we are arch-enemies. All that you are to me is ‘in my way’ and I’m absolutely done letting that be the case. I’m gonna run you the fuck over. I don’t want to shoot the shit backstage. I don’t want to get into cat shenanigans with you… I want to take a glance of what is left of you in my rearview mirror as I move on to much bigger and much better things.
Allen mimics driving and looking in his rearview mirror before refocusing back on the road.
ALLEN CHANEY: I can only hope that after I take a Garden Weasel to his junk that I’ll have saved the whole world from some impossibly fucking stupid children falling out of the crotch gutter of Odelia or whatever the fuck her name is. If she tries to get involved in this match you’ll go from constantly simping over her on twitter to scooping up her fucking brains off the canvas with the most intact piece left of her skull. I mean, I know it seems unfair since you can’t properly fight your own battles but you have been warned Pinky-Dick. That cunt interferes in this match and you can prepare to tweet cutesy gifs of you blending up her breakfast to feed her through a fucking tube.
Again, Allen seems to be enjoying thinking about this.
ALLEN CHANEY: But for a second I want you not to think about me ending your career or permanently injuring your wife or destroying your genitals. I need you to show up for our date and I want you to give me everything you’ve got. I want you to put everything into this just for me to beat you so you know exactly what it’s like to give something your all and then to just fail miserably. That’s how this is going to go for you, In other words give me your heart, make it real, or else forget about it. I just need you to promise me one thing. When you fail...and in the face of that failure you give up because you finally come to the realization that you don’t belong here… you need to at the VERY least exhibit the decency and honesty to put your name right at the top of that funny little list of yours. Set-up. Punchline.
Allen smirks wickedly as the camera fades out.
After his set he headed to the bar right across the street. Presentable clothes. A comb run through his hair… a breath mint still dissolving on his tongue as his first drink arrived.
As he sits at the bar and sips on a Crown Royal and 7-Up he goes through every possible scenario for how this was about to go down.
No, not the muddy butt one.
This person actually shows up and they instantly hit it off. She laughs at all of his jokes and actually somehow finds it charming. Maybe it goes well enough that they go back to his place and talk and peel each other's clothes off. Even if that doesn’t happen. Maybe they just have a good time and talk and stuff. That would also be cool.
It’s also possible that his Tinder date is a prostitute matching up with loneliest looking dudes on the app for an easy payday. That’s happened once already now. Allen didn’t end up utilizing her… services when that reveal was made.
Another possibility is that it’s someone who recognizes him from the sitcom and Allen absolutely knew he could not deal with that even for a second. Then there was the possibility they would realize he was a wrestler and a quick google search would show what a reprehensible piece of shit he was when it came to that line of work. Then maybe there was just the idea that there would be no chemistry. She wouldn’t find him funny.
Or even worse. They hit it off. They get very close. They fall in love. He grows to need her like a junkie needs his fix and then one day she just comes to the sudden realization of what Allen is and she just leaves and the cycle starts over again, Allen having learned nothing and opening himself back up again. He descends deeper into nihilism and self-hatred. He gets like 4 more cats. He-
“You okay, big man?” The Bartender asks.
And that is when Allen notices how hard and fast he is breathing.
“Yes. Yeah. Yes. I have to go. Here.” Allen says. He slaps a hundred dollar bill on the bar for his one drink and he quickly leaves, getting a good distance away from the bar before stopping and breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth. He takes control of his breathing. He was in control.
“Like fuck I am.”
His takes his phone from his pocket and starts to order an Uber when a text message interrupts him.
From ‘Party Marty’.
‘Hey. Out of curiosity, what are you up to on Thanksgiving?’
Allen takes a small break from having an anxiety attack to be very annoyed.
‘Did u talk to Howell?’
‘Who is Howell?’
‘NVM. may be busy. I’ll let u know.’
‘Alright. We’d love to have you.’
Anxiety and annoyance give way to confusion. Genuine confusion at the idea of unsolicited kindness.
“All people are sad clowns. That’s the key to comedy - and it’s a buffer against reality.”
-Bob Odenkirk
