I was driving home to Austin one night during a terrible rainstorm. It was raining so hard I could barely see when I had a flat and went off the road. My car was hopelessly stuck and the rain was pouring. I started to walk towards Waco when a car came up from behind me out of nowhere and slowed down to a near stop. I was glad for the ride and jumped in the backseat to get out of the rain. When I closed the door and looked up to thank the driver I realized that there was nobody behind the wheel. I was petrified and started to pray, looking for the best chance to jump out of the car. All of a sudden, a dripping wet hand came through the driver side window and moved the steering wheel. I jumped out of the car and ran as fast as I could. I came to this little icehouse on the side of the road and ordered a beer and told the bartender about my experience with the ghost. Everyone in the bar was listening and said that Waco is famous for ghosts. About 30 minutes later two guys came into the bar and yelled, "Hey, there's the ass hole that jumped into our car while we were pushing it!"
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This is from a friend of mine. Room #316 It was one of those days. I’d flown into another big city airport to drive to a small town; I’d drank a little bit the night before with four people who bought my self-titled CD and barely made my flight. I only drank because of the redhead, she never made me any promises but there was something about her ass and the way she smoked that made me want to hang out. She had to be at the shop first thing in the morning but didn’t care until her friends reminded her right in the middle of what turned out to be my goodnight kiss. I had a girlfriend but I figured what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt either of us. The next day I was fatigued. After my 3 hour drive I had barely made it to my hotel room in time to shower after taking off the clothes that I‘d worn the night before, I still smelled the cigarettes and a hint of her perfume. I thought about calling her but I was 600 miles away now and didn’t want to get hornier than I already was. Before the show I did my usual workout while listening to a mix tape of Thelonious Monk, eighty sit-ups so that my chest would be just right and as many dips as I could do on hotel room chair until my triceps started to burn. As I exited the hotel room door I walked past another redhead even cuter that the one on the night before, we exchanged a glance but time would not allow me to make a formal introduction. I watched as she stood in front of room #316, apparently her room, conveniently right next to mine. As I entered the elevator I listened for her door to slam shut but never heard a noise, I assumed she was headed back my direction to replace her lost key or realized that she was at the wrong room and walked further down the hall, either way I leaned against the wall and watched the elevator door close realizing that Thelonious Monk was still playing. Showtime was at 8pm and I like being casually late because it built the anticipation for me and the other comedians who where to take the stage before me, they knew of my reputation and felt honored to fill the time. Outside the bar there was a couple walking just behind me and asked, “Aren’t you the comedian?” I nodded with the swagger of the small town celebrity that I was, a nod that I practice hundreds of times every year as they giggled in anticipation. Seventy five or so people filled this showroom/pool hall; they were enthusiastic laughers and seemed to enjoy the rudimentary performances from the amateurs preceding me. I took the stage to a smattering of applause from people who knew me but most that didn’t. I began with cerebral material but was interrupted by drunk man proclaiming, “We came to laugh, not to think!”. How inconvenient I thought to myself that he couldn’t think and laugh at the same time, what if someone told as joke while he was swimming? I shifted gears with Monk still in my head; I bobbed and weaved through my set anticipating the laughter in all the usual spots while finding spots to look sexy in hopes of catching someone’s eye. Some comedians do these gigs to improve on the craft, they try new jokes, challenge their creativity while trying to build something special. Other comics do these gigs for the free alcohol, and the sex…I hadn’t written a new joke in years. At the end of my set I closed with piece about sex and stand-up comedians, it was a pathetic advertisement for post show coochie but they didn’t know it. The better it went, the better my chances…it didn’t go very well. I stood in the back of the room with CDs in hand, the couple that I met earlier bought one and asked me to autograph dedicated to the girls Mom while the drunk man promised that he’d buy one after he returned from that ATM, I wasn’t desperate enough to wait. After I knocked back my complimentary drinks I headed back to the hotel fully intending to call the redhead and try to convince her to text me a naked picture. When I got back the hotel desk was unoccupied, likely as the attendant slept in the back. On the elevator I started scrolling through my phone looking for the number for the redhead from the night before but as the door opened and I walked to my room I saw the girl from earlier, standing in front of the same hotel room as she was when I left. Never considering the odd nature of the situation I asked her if she needed help, she favored me with a slight look of helplessness. There was another moment of silence as I heard Monk still playing my room. Instinctively I asked her if she’d like to come into my room and call the front desk, without saying a word she walked toward me and I opened my door thinking that if it was going to be this easy I didn’t need to go to my gig in the first place. She sat on my bed silent, her red sweater slightly wrinkled and her jeans covering her black flats. She stared straight ahead and only looked at me when I spoke. Initially I thought she was high, but I settled on the possibility that she was really shy. I was kinda drunk and really tired and didn’t feel like climbing what was obviously going to be an uphill battle to get her out of her clothes. After listening to the ending of “Raise Four” we dwelled in the silence before the next song was to play. Impatiently I asked if she had a boyfriend, she then gave a peculiar stare and stood walking toward my door. The room was cold and weird so I walked toward my door opening it for her and she walked out with ever muttering a word. I shut the door behind her and checked my text messages for a picture of the girl from the night before. She’d sent me a photo of her smiling. I slept well that night. Before leaving the next morning I asked the desk attendant if the girl from room #316 had contacted them in reference to her key. His look suggested something different. He told me that no one had checked into room #316 in over a year since a young redhead committed suicide in the room after walking in on her fiancée having sex with another woman. Since that night I do these gigs to improve on the craft, and I have never cheated on my girlfriend again.
LOL nice one. Anyways I would expect a better story from someone that goes to Devry. Wait no, no nevermind...
