Nemesis By D.I. Jolly

“Ladies and gentlemen, may I welcome to the stage, possible the least funny man we’re gonna seeing tonight, Eddie!”

The room clapped and chuckled nervously, all a little unsure of the host, and whether or not his introductions were jokes or jabs, and then waited as a middle-aged man in a denim jacket, cheap tie and unkempt hair got up on stage to smile at the room.

“Go fuck yourself Morty.

Hello everyone, it’s true, I am, in fact, Eddie,

and with a bit of luck, we’ll all get out of this alive.

Now, why do I say it like that?

It’s not a threat, if that’s what some of you are thinking.

No, it’s because, despite my appearance,

I have a nemesis.

But Eddie, I can hear none of you thinking, how does a guy like you get a nemesis?

Well, let me tell you about Samantha.

She’s 5 foot 2, weights about 45kg, very smart and very driven.

She’s also blonde with green eyes, cute button nose that is slightly skew to the left and she’s a B cup. And she was last seen wearing a blue summer dress with a black cashmere cardigan.

Yes,

I’m giving you these details in case you need to give them to the police later. No excuses.

She’s also my ex-girlfriend,

and has,

apparently,

decided that her only goal in life is to kill me.

Why?

Because, as you may have noticed, I am a comedian. And if you think these jokes aren’t funny, you should hear the ones I don’t tell.

Which she heard,

every day,

for over a year.

And slowly, without realising it, I eroded her sunny, friendly, fun personality into a hard lump of coal.

Did I do this? Yes I did.

Is it my fault, well… only partially.

What does that mean?

I’ll tell you, but seriously, you need to stop asking all these fucking questions.

Somewhere locked in the back of her head was the idea that because I am, and was, a comedian, I am funny.

And every awful joke that I wrote and tried out on her, slipped into that dark part of her mind,

as something that should be,

but wasn’t,

funny.

And over our time together, unbeknownst to me, she gaslit herself into believing that she was the problem,

because I am a comedian.

And therefore,

I am funny.

And then,

because I’m also, just, a super great guy,

I sat down and confronted the idea that the sweet fun girl I’d fallen in love with was now an angry bitter woman,

and I broke up with her.

At which point she realised that I was, in fact, an asshole and she swore to kill me.

And I believe her,

and I live in fear of her.

Why?

Because she’s a smart driven woman, who’s 5 foot 2 and weights 45kg. She couldn’t make noise walking if she tried.

You could put her in tap shoes on squeaky wooden floors and never hear her coming.

And then, and then some asshole went and invented the fucking knife.

My life is at risk,

every moment is precious and I’m convinced that the last thing I’m going to see before I die will be her screaming face.

No,

no,

no,

I’m obviously kidding.

We broke up,

she was sad.

Then met some tech billionaire with a kind heart and enough emotional intelligence to really love her for who she is and they got married and moved to Switzerland.

And if you can’t tell which of those stories is the real joke then come chat to me after the show,

Because, I’ve got a great business opportunity I’d love to tell you about.

Anyway. you’ve been an audience, thank you very much

and please,

remember,

blonde hair, green eyes, cute button nose and a B cup. Goodnight.”

Buy my books you cowards!

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