'THE COMEDIAN' ALLEN CHANEY
Sitcom Logic
or
The one where Jon Hamm fucks everything up
He wakes up at the crack of noon, the sun pouring in through the blinds triggering the familiar hangover pain receptors. Headache, a general unease of the stomach. It’s almost like your brain isn’t moving at the same speed as your skull, bumping into the walls ever so slightly as you move. He looks at his phone for the time as if it matters before getting out of bed and making eye contact with absolutely the only individual in the world allowed to call him out on his bullshit.
And he REALLY wanted a scoop of food in his bowl. Allen did feed him before he fell asleep but by now Bill knew Allen would forget if he fed him or not by morning and get a bonus scoop.
And he got his bonus scoop. Bill was delighted. And fat. Bill was getting fat. Bill liked Allen. Of course Bill knew of no other humans aside from Allen who gave him pets and food scoops. Allen liked Bill. It’s very possible Bill was the only person Allen liked and Bill wasn’t even a person.
Allen downs his morning coffee with an added generous pour of Irish whiskey to take some of the edge off before he grabs his gym bag and is out the door without showering. On the bus he pops his earbuds in so he doesn’t have to listen to anyone but does make brief eye contact with a homeless man who holds up a sign reading ‘It’s My Birthday’ along with a cup for taking donations. Allen pretends not to notice and looks down at his phone. That guy is there every day but usually the sign is begging for change.
Workout. Shower. Lunch. Then it’s off to the club. Allen had a steady gig hosting the open mic now. He was starting to like...well...tolerate Chicago. They liked a good filthy joke. Plus Allen got to go home with a few extra bucks in his pocket and got to drink for free.“...Now I don’t know how many experienced fisters we have here tonight but it’s sort of like wearing a snug mitten made of uncooked but very warm chicken.” Allen says, followed by a laugh from the crowd. He carried on and had a good little ten minute set then introduced the first comic. Then he was off to the bar again to pickle his organs all night. One comic took his interest though. Really young but confident. Cracked a few jokes about the ‘failed sitcom star’ hosting the show. He got his laughs.‘Good. Good for him. Nothing wrong with getting a laugh.’
Allen thought to himself.
And then he kept drinking because the next act was one of those ‘comedy magicians’.
Allen hated magicians.
Later in the night a few of the guys at the open mic were hanging around and talking to Allen who was doing his best to be social when...well. HE came up. Said he was a big fan and offered to buy Allen a drink.“Nah, I’m good kid. Say, I’m looking for a few guys to do features and you seem pretty talented. Do you have a good tight 20 minutes?” Allen asks.“I can do 20 for sure, yeah.” He responds, excited at the prospect of being given a chance like this.“Any night works for you?” Allen asks“Yeah I work days so I can be free any night.” He responds, a big smile on his face.“Cool cool...one last question. How many fucking TV shows have you starred in?” Allen asks. The tone in the whole room changed.“I...I...uh…”“It’s a pretty simple question. Is it none? None shows? Is that how many shows you’ve been in?”“I...I was just…”
“Oh you don’t have anything smart to say now do you? You can take your hack shit to Branson, fucko.” Allen says, getting right in the kid's face. The kid responds by throwing his drink in Allen’s face.That didn’t end up going well for him.
No charges got pressed but once again Allen was out of a job. He sent out a few texts on his way to the grocery store where he purchased a small chocolate cake and some candles.
By the time he got on the bus he had a new job. New wrestling company or something. Whatever. Pay was good.
Just like always the homeless guy with the ‘It’s My Birthday’ sign was there but for the first time Allen didn’t pretend not to see him. He opened his grocery bag and took out the chocolate cake with a single candle in it and lit the candle. There was such joy in the face of the homeless man. Like this was the first act of genuine kindness anyone had ever shown him. Allen hands him the cake and the old man blows out the candle.
And then Allen swats the cake out of his hand with tremendous force.
Chocolate splattered against the window of the bus as it comes to a stop and Allen grabs his bag and gets off. The joy in the face of the old man replaced with betrayal and sadness.
Licking chocolate frosting off his fingers and using his free hand to look up all he can about ‘Pro Wrestling Excellence’ on his phone. He opens his door.
“We’re moving again, Bill.”“Meow.”
“I believe there is an equality to all humanity. We all suck. I’m tired of this back-slappin ‘isn’t humanity neat’ bullshit. We’re a virus with shoes.”
-Bill Hicks
We open on what is clearly a sitcom set. A tidy and way-too-big apartment designed by someone who didn’t know what actual human apartments looked like. There are wrestling posters adorning the walls and wacky references to nerd culture all over because producers were convinced the show would appeal to the ‘Big Bang Theory’ crowd which Allen hated every second of.
Announcer: ‘Allen Chaney Is Better Than You All And You Can Huff His Scrotum’ was filmed in front of a live studio audience. Then Allen told that audience they could fuck off so we editted in crowd noise.
After a small musical cue the front door opens and the star of the enters to uproarious pre-recorded applause that goes on for waaaaaay too long.
Allen Chaney: Honey, I’m home!
Allen enters the home wearing a blazer and poorly tied necktie over his wrestling gear and carrying a briefcase. A beautiful woman emerges from the kitchen stirring a bowl of…food? Whatever, the prop reads on-screen.
Woman: Welcome home, honey! I’ve got dinner going. Should be done in twenty.
Allen Chaney: Yeah, that’s real neat but uh…
Allen doesn’t have time to be surprised that there was an actual ‘honey’ to respond to him when the door opens and someone else enters the house wearing zubaz, exaggerated suspenders, and just in general looking ‘wacky’. The fake audience cheers.
Wacky Sitcom Neighbor: Hey there, buddy! I’m afraid we’ll have to take that dinner to go. We gotta work on helping Timmy win the Science Fair!
Woman: No no, Allen needs a good dinner and a good night's rest before his big match tomorrow.
Allen starts to say something again but is interrupted by the sudden presence of Jon Hamm and the studio audience whoops and cheers.
Jon Hamm: Maybe I can be of some assistance with that science fair.
Allen Chaney: EVERYONE. FUCKING. STOP.
The cheers and laughs suddenly cut out. Allen takes a deep breath.
Allen Chaney: Who the fuck are you people?
Jon Hamm: I’m Jon Hamm.
Allen Chaney: I know you’re Jon Hamm. You’re very clearly Jon Hamm. What the hell are you doing here, Jon Hamm? How does my character know Jon Hamm? What about a science fair screams ‘Allen’s secret pal Jon Hamm’? We’ve never mentioned Jon Hamm before. Jon Hamm.
Before anyone can say ‘Jon Hamm’ another time Allen spins on his heels and points at the woman.
Allen Chaney: This old-timey sitcom bullshit doesn’t play! I told the writers that from day one. I wanted to do a wrestling-focused version of ‘Louie’ only not starring a sex monster and the writers room twisted it into…THIS and pinned all the blame on me.
Jon Hamm: So this…isn’t the actual sitcom. This is like a meta-deconstruction of what happened with YOUR sitcom and-
Allen Chaney:I wasn’t going to say it that explicitly but yes Jon Hamm that is exactly what is happening.
Jon Hamm: So…can I go?
Allen Chaney: Yes… but also maybe cameo in fewer things. You’re fucking everywhere, man. SNL will be shitty whether or not you show up.
Jon Hamm: You’re a prick.
Allen Chaney: Mad Men was overrated.
Jon Hamm walks off set giving Allen the finger.
Wacky Sitcom Neighbor: So I’m confused…this isn’t the sitcom?
Allen Chaney: No man, I’m doing a whole thing and it’s… you know what fuck it. It was too clever for the kinds of people who watch this. Have some violence.
Allen kicks the man in the stomach and swiftly scoop slams him in through the coffee table. We hear a scream and the camera cuts away. We come back to the sitcom set with just Allen now, sipping from a coffee cup as he takes off his blazer and tie and tosses them aside.
Allen Chaney: Pro Wrestling Excellence. Hi there. I’m Allen. You probably already know that since I’m the only reason you’re watching this show at all. Oh no, I’m sure you all actually came to see Magic Bitch, French Mom, and third example. Sorry I literally couldn’t think of anyone else. Those people. I’m sure you’ll all gather and cheer and rally behind…Jeffrey? Is there a Mike? Whatever. I’m sure they’re fantastic and they won big championships in Who-Give-A-Fuck Wrestling Alliance and it made them feel special but tha my gets to stop right now. You can slap whatever coat of paint you want to on yourselves but this whole ‘feeling special’ thing ends when you step into the ring with me. I’m not saying I’m the God of Pro Wrestling’s Special Chosen Warrior. I’m saying none of YOU are.
Allen points to the camera for emphasis on the ‘YOU’.
Allen Chaney: I’ve won a lot of world titles and beat a lot of people who folks said were unbeatable and it means exactly the same amount of nothing as all of your accomplishments before you arrived in PWE did. So let’s take all that away from you and put it in a pile we call ‘shit that doesn’t matter’. Wow. That’s a big pile isn’t it? Well let’s add more. Let’s add morality to the pile.
Allen makes a gesture of adding something else to a pile.
Allen Chaney: See a lot of you new people and some misguided veterans are what we call ‘Optimists’ or ‘Dumbasses’ or ‘Doorknob Fuckers’ seem to believe that there is strength in just doing the right thing. This is categorically and undeniably false. Jeff Bezos got to go to space because he’s a cunt. Anyone who is successful and powerful is probably a cunt. Elon Musk is a cunt. I admire the shit out of both of them. If I was a billionaire given a factory full of people and I could make a few extra bucks for it you’re damn right I’d make them use a bottle instead of taking a piss break. I will do ANYTHING to win. Hell, I like cats more than I like people and I’ll still stomp on that little bastard if I have to. Not my cat. I also want to further put to bed the idea that any of you are special. No one gives a shit about your tortured past. Disassociative Identity Disorder is INCREDIBLY rare but it seems like half the industry has it now. No one cares about your 20 lovers and as someone who spent the first few years of his career working for hot dogs the concessions guy couldn’t sell and driving to shows with nothing but coffee and the desire to stomp on someones head in their system, it’s really fucking weird to hop on twitter and see wrestlers in their rookie year living in a 4-acre two floor LA Apartment and flying to shows on a private jet. If you AREN’T actually working for a drug cartel you are going to be very in-debt very soon. And hey, time travel or magic or being full of demon jizz or whatever should really mean you win every single match but since that seems to not be the case we can go ahead and add all of it to the pile of shit that doesn’t matter. Man, that pile of shit that doesn’t matter is getting real big. So let’s talk about what DOES matter. We’ve already talked about the fact that I’m the kind of guy who realizes that there is no tactical advantage in taking the moral high ground. I don’t particularly care what any of you think about me and I’m about as interested in making friends as ‘The Bomb’ is in reading a book without pictures in it, which really puts a lotta pressure on ‘The Very Hungry Caterpillar’ to hold her interest for the full 3 hours it takes for her to comprehend it. Let’s put it this way, if I had to describe Kayla Richards in two words they’d be ‘Too nice’. I bet she’d hesitate before stomping on the cat. Big softie. Me? One senton and we’re making Kitty Pancakes. You aren’t going to find a lick of sympathy here. It gives me a big stiff one imagining the anguish of your family, friends, and loved ones seeing any of you mangled beyond all recognition by me. Ask Ben Petrie or his husband who’s head I smashed in a refrigerator door. It’s difficult to find him to ask because after all the heinous shit I did to him I still in the end got him fired. You better pray all I want to do is beat you because if I think it’ll pop a rating and get my name trending? I will ruin your life. In the white of my eyes and the black of my soul there’s a different kind of cold.
Allen points to his own eyes to emphasize this point before he finishes his coffee and picks up a sledgehammer resting against the wall.
Allen Chaney: I’m sure a collection of self-important dipshits and one time traveler who think they’re the most incredibly clever people in the world are going to say the same line about how I’m not funny and every time I hear that I smile because boy-fucking-howdy are they missing the point. They don’t find all of this funny for the same reason the dog in the Aristocrats joke doesn’t find it funny when his family one day goes crazy and fucks the shit out of him for a stage act. Joke’s aren’t supposed to be funny when you’re the butt of them and guess what? You’re all playing parts in a very very elaborate joke right now that’d make Andy Kaufman die for real this time.
Allen swings the sledgehammer into an end table on the set, quickly smashing the hell out of it.
Allen Chaney: I can see how you wouldn’t find it funny being a DOG THAT GETS SHIT ON AND FUCKED TO DEATH in most versions of that joke but everyone who isn’t the dog thinks it’s pretty hilarious in context
Allen hefts up the hammer once more and takes a huge swing into a glass display case of ‘wrestling memorabilia’ set dressing, shattering it.
Allen Chaney: You’re all part of a cosmic joke that I’m telling and sorry to spoil it for you but the punchline is that after all of your effort… the Fat Fuck no one likes wins. You can tell me that isn’t funny all you want. I’m gonna be laughing my big fat fuck World Champion ass off.
Allen takes a big swing with the hammer directly at the wall and leaves a huge hole.
Allen Chaney: I’m not gonna waste any time teaching you all the natural order of things. The basics as it were… And in the end you will all be grateful because the Most Hated and Highest Rated Man in Pro Wrestling is the reason people will be talking about PWE and the reason you all get to make a lotta money to spend on your ugly children. This fake fucking sitcom facade has to come down and you all need a reality check. The basics go like this: Setup...Punchline.
Allen takes a few more swings at the wall before the whole damn back wall of the set falls over, revealing the star of Mad Men enjoying some of the catering. Allen tosses the hammer aside in frustration.
Allen Chaney: I SAID FUCK OFF, JON HAMM. YOU FUCK UP EVERYTHING!
The camera cuts out abruptly.
