'The Comedian' Allen Chaney SE1E9: Season Finale

'THE COMEDIAN' ALLEN CHANEY
Season 1: Episode 9
Season Finale

The HULU Offices in Chicago

3 Days before The Invitational Finals.

“Nah.” Allen says.

“Uh, what?”

“Sorry, but I’m not interested.”

The gentleman in decently high standing within the HULU corporation took the contract from in front of Allen and looked it over, trying to figure out what part of it Allen was against. Allen’s manager Daniel Fitzsimmons looks at Allen in the same way you’d look at someone who had taken the time to calmly remove their belt, take off their pants, fold them neatly, take off their underwear, put them on their head, and then take a violent liquid shit on the floor while scream-singing the song ‘Africa’ by Toto.

“Look, Pro Wrestling Excellence is doing great streaming numbers for us and we’ve been looking to branch out into spin-offs and the first name that came up was yours.” The guy in the tie says. Allen stares a hole through him because he knew that wasn’t true.

‘The ACTUAL first idea was an Ollie cartoon, wasn’t it? Then you realized it’d be too much like Garfield.”

There is a long silence. Allen just nods, knowing he was right. I mean, he also would have absolutely watched that show but that’s not really the point.

“I looked it over and it’s very generous. I appreciate the offer but I know any promise of ‘creative control’ is a hollow one because I’ve heard it before. It’s crazy because even six months ago I would have considered this a dream and everything I ever wanted and would have taken this offer in a heartbeat but uh… you know what I don’t need this anymore. I’m not a sitcom star. I’m a Pro Wrestler who also does comedy and I think I’d really like to focus on the wrestling aspect of things. I can feel it in my bones that I’m going to win this Invitational and move on to win the Excellence Title and from there I wanna fight any and everyone. So again….thank you for the offer but…. Nah. I think…I think I’m good.” Allen says. He stands and reaches out his hand for a polite handshake which is accepted. Daniel gives him a look but eventually settles on just putting a hand on Allen’s shoulder and giving it a small pat before he walks away. Allen steps out of that office, feeling like a weight has been taken off of his shoulders.

The weight of the failure of his show. He had moved on. He did not feel controlled by it any longer. There was a clear path in front of him leading him to the Excellence Championship and above all else the validation he had been seeking for so long.

He could do this.

He had never been so sure of anything in his life.

Damian Ayla Vs. Allen Chaney at Magnificence.

Damian kicks out of the Punchline and he and the crowd can't believe it but Allen shakes off the incredulity and is back up on his feet. Blood trickling down his face like in all the big cool Championship matches.

Allen lies in wait, motioning upward for Damian to get in the perfect position and he is ready to put every ounce of his 300+ pounds into a single foot as Damian tries to make it to his feet and then…HECKLER CONTROL! HECKLER CONTROL! HECKLER CONTROL! and the crowd loses their collective mind as the fat man then collapses on top of Damian and hears the crowd count along the most important three syllables he’d ever hear in his life.

AND NEWWWWWWWWW…

Allen's Apartment

The Day After the Invitational Finals

Allen emerges from his bedroom hungover, after having called HULU about 87 times the night before he finally received a voicemail that the offer was no longer on the table. He had to delete like 8 voicemails from Britany to make it there. She hadn’t really been an issue since he stopped leaving a spare key under the mat outside his door. After last time she was here he noticed someone had cleaned the hair from his hairbrush.

That crazy bitch stole his hair.

Allen puts the voicemail on speaker as he walks to the bathroom and drops his phone in the toilet before having a good long morning beer pee on it as the sound fades away.

His heavy weighted blanket is wrapped around his body and the air is full of the sounds of empty bottles clattering under his feet as he leaves the bathroom. He grabs his megaphone and heads out the sliding door to his balcony. The sun hitting his eyes was as unwelcome as the midwest cold but he had an important announcement to make and the world deserved to hear it. He put the megaphone to his lips and hit the button, having already made sure it was on it’s loudest setting.

"I’m a fucking idiot.”

There is a long silence as Allen stands there, the megaphone still to his lips. Allen looks over to his left to see his neighbor on her balcony tending to her garden. She starts to say something.

“Shut the fuck up, Doris. Shut up. Sorry. But also shut up. Are those carrots? Do those grow in the cold? Shut up, don’t answer that. Please don’t call the cops. I’m not naked under here. Shut up. Sorry. I’m done. Sorry.”

This, of course, is all announced through the very loud megaphone before Allen finally turns and closes the sliding door.

Okay.

So what now?

He looks down at Bill who looks up at him and releases a small mewl.

Allen goes to his kitchen table and pulls out his notebook and he grabs a pen.

There was a good joke in here somewhere.

And he was gonna find it.

The pen clicks.

And we are off to the races, as they say.

"If you wake up in a house that's full of smoke

Don't panic

Call me, and I'll tell you a joke

If you see white men dressed in white cloaks

Don't panic

Call me, and I'll tell you a joke

Oh shit...

Should I be joking at a time like this?

Somebody help me out, 'cause I don't know"

-Bo Burnham, ‘Comedy’

This is where the sitcom set once was.

There are little touches that make it easy to tell, the often-broken coffee table has been pieced back together and wrapped up in bubble wrap and stored away in the background. The ‘Mr Rogers’ props, the fake writers room, all of it all packed away and stored up on what is now just an empty sound stage. All that is out is a single microphone on a mic stand and a stool with a rather beat-up looking notebook set on top of it. Similar to the setup at a comedy club.

Allen steps in front of the camera and in front of the microphone, bags and dark circles under his eyes. He starts to say something and then stops himself and walks offscreen.

A cut.

Allen steps in front of the camera and takes a deep breath.

ALLEN CHANEY: Hey guys! Allen here, and I- what the fuck was that? Who is that. Nope. No. ‘Allen here.’ Christ. Like this is a fucking Youtube video.

Another cut. Allen walks on camera again.

ALLEN CHANEY: I wanted to tell-

And then his nerves cause him to actually dry heave. Allen makes a ‘cut’ motion. Not for anyone else but himself in the future as this one was being edited entirely by him. We cut to him, once again taking a deep breath and finally…

ALLEN CHANEY: I… often make the point to you guys that I’m a liar… but you really have no clue how much I’ve been outright lying to you. The truth isn’t… pleasant or happy and it’s not likely that it’s something any of you are interested in hearing or will change anything but….I don’t know. It feels like it’s time to tell it. Her on the uh… ‘Season Finale’. This season was going to have a much happier ending but uh… seems like that just wasn’t in the cards.

Another deep breath. Here it goes.

ALLEN CHANEY: Any time I think about having a casual conversation with a stranger or acquaintance I become crippled by anxiety, on some occasions this going as far as having severe panic attacks. I’m also… like, kinda autistic. I told my mom around my 19th birthday that I used to have nightmares that I was autistic and that everyone in the world was just being nice to me and that’s the day she told me I had been diagnosed as having mild autism all the way back as a kid and she and my dad just never told me because there was still a chance I’d turn out ‘normal’. So much made sense when I found out. I don’t particularly like to talk about it because people treat you differently when they know that about you. Without even realizing it they start to turn on ‘babysitter voice’ when they talk to you.

The disdain in Allen’s voice when he says ‘babysitter voice’ is quite apparent.

ALLEN CHANEY: I live in a near-constant state of Imposter syndrome, worried that I’ll be found out for the fake that it turns out I actually am and… it’s become exhausting. I’m just exhausted at the idea of being here in front of this camera again and telling you all to eat my shit and to fuck your mother like nothing happened… Yeah I’m not gonna do that this time. Maybe another time but not this time.

Allen bites his lip. He’s being open and honest but he’s still choosing his words very very carefully.

ALLEN CHANEY: It was easier to be a terrible person than to own up to anything or actually improve myself. To…lash out at everything and drink whatever was left away. That isn’t going to work this time because all of this is my fault. It was probably all my fault when my show got canceled as well but there were convenient enough people around to blame then. No, this was all an Allen Chaney Production this time and I can’t blame anyone except for myself. I was given a second chance I didn’t deserve and I couldn’t even capitalize on it. I don’t deserve to be in the main event. That much is clear, now. I….hang on. I need him right now.

Allen stands and walks offscreen. He comes back on screen carrying Bill and sets the notebook aside so he can sit on the stool with him. Bill can seem to tell when his owner is in a certain state of mind and is being extra affectionate.

ALLEN CHANEY: I was getting ahead of myself.

Allen gives Bill scritches and it’s clear to anyone watching that his presence seems to be calming Allen down a bit now.

ALLEN CHANEY: I guess the things you need to know about me are things like… I don’t really hate many people. I’m just a dick so no one gets close. If you don’t let people get too close then it doesn’t hurt when you get abandoned… You gotta get close for someone to stab you in the back. It’s a lonely way to live but like… I’ve lived through enough of the alternative and I can’t take it. I… Of course it’s lonely. But at some point I decided loneliness was better than the alternative.

Bill rolls so Allen has access to scratch his tummy. Allen obliges.

ALLEN CHANEY: If you’re here to see me cry you’re gonna be disappointed because I already took my time to be disappointed and upset about that loss and it’s given way to just me being…numb. Numbness and maybe some degree of acceptance. An acceptance that maybe just this is my lot in life and maybe the goal of all this therapy and all this soul-searching isn’t for me to improve in such an obvious way. Maybe it’s to help me accept that for others to succeed in this world there has to be people like me. I’m not taking back anything I said or made public after the Invitational finals. My bare insecurities are my gift to you but when I just said that there was some degree of acceptance… well if you’re expecting me to just show up to this match and toss myself over the top rope then you’re an idiot. I am not falling into failure quietly. There will be kicking and screaming and clawing and scratching and biting and… you get the idea.

A loud purr from Bill, enjoying the attention.

ALLEN CHANEY: Vhodka Black won and despite all her ‘uniqueness’ she revealed herself to be exactly like everyone else and that is… it’s disappointing but I can’t say that it’s surprising. Openly admitting she saw this company as nothing more than an easy shot at a championship in what she perceived to be a shallow talent pool. Another vulture, but I guess maybe this is just another example of how easy I am to fool. I know we’ve been pretty cool since you’ve got here but if something sticks in my craw a little I tend to try and talk about it... If you really think so little of the people here then maybe we aren't as cool as I thought. I’m not interested in the pity of people who view me as some sort of a lesser creature. This isn’t about you beating me, either. You so quickly discounted the efforts of everyone in this company in service of your own ego. Congratulations on beating all of us losers. Go win your shiny ‘best loser’ belt. Maybe shame on me for expecting any different than this to be honest. We can joke around on twitter but… I dunno. Might just be talking out of my ass. It just doesn’t feel great to see the work of talented people get disrespected and co-opted by someone who only just got here. It’s hard not to feel betrayed but again… that’s why I’ve learned not to trust anyone. Maybe I shoulda stuck with that instinct.

Allen sort of shrugs. Wasn’t sure how to feel about Vhodka or much of anybody in his current state but he wasn’t trying to focus too much on this.

ALLEN CHANEY: In the end, my opinion of people matters very little. I know I’m not exactly ‘Mr. Popularity’ and I think maybe you’re all starting to understand that is entirely by my own design. Like I said it can be lonely but… to be frank none of this is me looking for sympathy from any of you because for the most part I’m not interested in endearing myself to anyone on this roster. Most of you seem like pretty terrible and horribly self-involved people. Some degree of egomania tends to come with this job because so much of it is marketing yourself but holy shit a lot of you seem to buy into your own marketing. Don’t get high on your own supply.

Allen releases a sigh. Bill just purrs and continues to enjoy all the attention.

ALLEN CHANEY: I fucked up in that regard, honestly. I made the mistake of…believing in myself again. Of thinking I deserved anything better. That if I worked harder than anyone elseI could overcome all of my faults as if the people who just didn’t already have those faults didn’t already have that natural advantage over me. I really wish I could live in the world where I could be content to just do backstage skits with a cat and piledrive the undercard every show but I can’t help that I wanted more. So…I’m done getting my hopes up but I’m not done fighting. Violence and a good dick joke are all I have to offer even if there are many who can do them better than I can. I’m not a natural athlete, obviously…

Allen gives his own tummy a smack.

ALLEN CHANEY: …But I like to think I’ve done pretty good with what I have. I’m never gonna have ten-pack abs and post pictures of myself on social media every day but I’ve been doing this long enough that I have some degree of confidence that I’m pretty good at it.

Bill looks where Allen smacked on his own tummy and puts a paw there briefly.

ALLEN CHANEY: I’m not trying to win. I don’t even know if this universe would let me if I even tried. I had that match won and had it taken from me by, of all people. Ernie the Fucking Nerd which would probably drive lesser men to quit this industry entirely or maybe jump off a bridge but frankly I don’t have a lot of other things I can be doing. So…we’re doing something very different this time. I’m not here to prove anything to you all or to myself. I’m not doing this to ‘defend from invaders’ or whatever the fuck. I’m here because I’ve given a face to all of my failures and faults and insecurities and uh… There are a lot of them.

Allen mocks pretending to count them on his fingers for a few moments. He’d have to consult his therapist on quite a few of them.

ALLEN CHANEY: Did I say a face? I meant ‘faces’. 29 of them in fact. See I’m not trying to win but I’m not exactly showing up to lose, either. You all can poke fun at this sad boi shit all you want, and I’m well aware that’s coming. I know when it comes to this industry that expressing any genuine human emotion means I may as well be wearing a steak jock strap in a dog fighting ring but let me make myself entirely clear. Eliminating you all is only half the point, now. There is misery in me and I have made every single one of you my misery and I’m not leaving til one or more of you is paralyzed. I realize how dark that sounds and I don’t care and I’m also not joking or exaggerating. If the only legacy I can leave is hurting someone so bad that they see my face every time they limp or they struggle out of bed then I guess… I guess that’s something. I can’t make you feel like I do. I can’t make you feel my insecurity or my self-doubt or the weight I feel get heavier and heavier every day that feels like a heavy blanket wrapped around my body and dragging me down… but I know how to hurt somebody. That I can manage. I can settle for that.

Allen picks Bill up and carries him off-screen. Seemingly having reached a point where he doesn’t feel he needs Bill's support to continue speaking. He sits back down on the stool and takes a brief moment to get comfortable on it once more.

ALLEN CHANEY: Like I said I’m well aware of what opening up like this means. The kind of ammunition this puts in the hands of everyone out there looking to pick at the brain of their opponent. As painful as this band-aid is to tear off I know exactly what I am doing. I’m chumming the waters with my own blood and every shark who wants what little clout they can get off of my name is gonna be sniffing around. La Andalucera was the first obvious one but I know for a fact she won’t be the last.

Good. I’m counting on it.

I’m not fishing for sympathy or pity.

I’m fishing for the fucking sharks themselves.

You think you’re getting a meal.

Shark fin soup is the only thing on the menu.

And this fat ass is fucking HUNGRY.

For the first time we see Allen form a smile.

ALLEN CHANEY: I’m sure a lot of you have a lot of real brilliant shit to say to me. I made it through 12 years of grade school being called a loser and a fat homo and you know what? I never really got to work that shit out. So sniff out that blood. Come looking for your meal. Try and take a bite out of me but just know you ain’t the only one with sharp teeth.

Allen shows off his teeth and mimics taking a bite. They don’t look particularly sharp but I, the narrator, am not here to explain metaphors and simile to you. You should have paid more attention in school.

ALLEN CHANEY: Lotta faces here I don’t recognize and well…I was right, by the way. As if it matters anymore. I was the only one who said anything about it or cared about it but sure enough, an outsider comes in and wins our Invitational and now all of a sudden Shawn Warstein and all sorts of other names are coming out of the woodwork because they heard it’s open season on a company that doesn’t belong to me or to anyone else who helped found it anymore. I told you all this was what was going to happen and you all just shrugged about it but being right doesn’t feel great fater the fact when no one listened to you and everything got fucked up. Soon PWE will be robbed of all of it’s original identity but I’ll still be here to fight a conga-line of samey looking skinny goth dudes. “Hi, I’m the Disease Damon Crassley. I look like a Hot Topic chihuahua.’ ‘Oh yeah, well I’m The God King Dorian Smush and I eat heroin for breakfast’.

Allen rolls his eyes.

ALLEN CHANEY: I’m not guarding the gate anymore if nobody else gives a shit. Invite whoever you want. Denzel Porter can nut a BREAKING NEWS all over whoever he wants every few weeks at the expense of everyone who came before them. Y’all speak the name ‘Shawn Warstein’ in such hushed and reverent tones and I’m sure he’s amazing and incredible and ten times the wrestler I will ever be in my life and I’m still gonna stick my hand down my fight shorts, grab my balls, and smack him across the face with that same now impossibly moist hand. They get real sweaty. Warstein may as well be Ernie the Nerd or some dude off the street. All I see is bodies, now. No faces or names. Just a bunch of squishy meat in the way of a wrecking ball.

Allen thinks things over for a bit. He feels like he’s probably said enough for now.

ALLEN CHANEY: I’m not saying that’s enough to win this or even to make it to the final four. What I’m saying is who fucking cares? I’m out there to take home as many pieces of you all as I can and if that’s enough to do well? Neat, I guess. But I will admit I see the appeal of a joke ending like that. Setup. Punchline.

Allen makes the ‘cut’ motion with his hand one more time and the camera cuts off.

The Comedy Cellar in New York.

A curious crowd had gathered tonight due to the rumors that one of the acts could possibly have some sort of meltdown after a recent Pro Wrestling loss.

But to their surprise they found a man in clean clothes who seemed to be in pretty good spirits. A fun time at the Velvet Rabbit the night before was responsible for that but there was more to it than that. Allen had the microphone. The lights were on him.

This was the one place he always had control.

A heckler tries to speak up and Allen tells him off without missing a step and then carries right on into the next bit even as the lone bouncer is escorting the guy out.

“You know what? Don’t even point and laugh at this guy. Everyone just point at him as he’s taken away. Theeeere he goes. There goes the drunk dipshit with the big loud voice and the tiiiiiny tiny pee-pee. Bye friend!” Allen says, joining the audience in pointing before the individual is finally kicked out.

He had one last bit to wrap things up.

“I want to run you all through my favorite hypothetical scenario. It’s one of my own creation and I don’t want to brag or toot my own horn too much but it’s the most important philosophical hypothetical scenario to ever have been concocted and I know you don’t believe me but I swear that once the gravity of this hits you? You will be thinking about this for the rest of your life. Here we go.” Allen says. He let’s it be quiet for a few moments before clearing his throat and speaking up once more.

“You fall into a portal and you find yourself in a beautiful garden. The sky is blue. The foliage is perfect. Flowers of every color. You make your way down an ornate path and find a man at the end wearing all white. He leads you on a walk through this garden and as you walk he says: ‘Welcome traveler. It is around 1000 years in your future and we are currently in the Garden of Knowledge. We choose individuals from your time period to impart great knowledge and wisdom upon. YOU have been chosen and all you have to do is ask us one single question and in an instant….every bit of related knowledge to that question will be IMMEDIATELY imprinted onto your brain. That is the duty to us, The Guardians of Knowledge which is why we have met here in the Garden of Knowledge where this statue resides of the most important man to have ever lived in all of recorded history.’ And you both stop at an enormous statue….” Allen says. He holds this pause and just let’s the audience sit in silence for a long time.

“...and it’s Fred Durst.”

The laughter comes slowly but picks up steam as the realization hits everyone in the audience. It builds and builds.

“So a lot of you got ahead of me and were probably thinking my question was gonna be ‘What question do you ask?’ and that shit is fucking amateur hour and would be a waste of your time and mine. I’m not here to waste anyone’s time. You could ask ‘How does physics work?’ and know basically EVERYTHING anyone could possibly know. You could ask about companies or stocks to invest in or whatever and make a hell of a lot of money… but the question I am posing to you is…is there ANY chance…”

Another pause as the crowd laughs, starting to realize where Allen is going.

“...that the presence of the Fred Durst statue doesn’t immediately fuck up whatever question you were going to ask? How are the next words out of your mouth not ‘Wh-what the fuck did Fred Durst do that was so goddamn important?’” Allen says, the audience now laughing hard.

“Like, I’d fuck it up even if they gave me a second chance. The guy in white could straight up be like ‘Ha, yeah everyone asks that but you get another chance at the question.’ I’d stop, think about it and if I and all of you are being 100% honest with ourselves we are DEFINITELY asking ‘No seriously, did Fred Durst cure a disease or something what the shit happened?’” Allen says. He let’s the laughter die down.

“I guess the lesson is that…we don’t know how the future is gonna play out and maybe the mystery is part of the appeal… if you just see the end result you miss out on the journey… and also ‘Three Dolla Bill Yall’ still fucking SLAPS. Thank you guys very much, you’ve been great.” Allen says. He puts the microphone back in the stand.

They applaud as he takes his dog-eared notebook from the stool beside him and walks away.

"Someone said to me at a party once, 'Oh, yeah, you're a comedian? Then how come you're not funny now?' And I just wanted to say, 'Well, I'm just going to take this conversation we're having and then repeat that to strangers, and then that's the joke. You're the joke later.'"

-Mike Birbiglia