He fell flat, in two ways.

The first was his jokes. It didn’t matter what the topic was, Jonathan couldn’t make anyone laugh. He would have settled for a chuckle or a grin, but that seemed to be asking too much. He would open his mouth and everyone shut theirs. He couldn’t understand it. He had tried different types of comedy. He had tried topical jokes, about politics and current events, but that lent itself to dark humor. And it did not take long for Jonathan to realize that dark humor wasn’t for everyone. He attempted prop humour, character sketches, even telling stories of his person life in an exuberant fashion.

No laughter. No giggles. No applause. He fell flat.

The second was just as painful. Not having people react to the jokes that he told, not having anyone respond to the countless hours he had given to create and craft these jokes was one thing. It was a part of the job. All comedians had jokes that didn’t work. But this was something else. Something that hurt on a different level.

He had been attempting to interact with the audience, when his clown feet caught the microphone cord. He face planted the stage.

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