Last laugh

http://www.cookingmumu.com

"Baguette Magique!" proclaimed the poster outside the theatre.

What a stupid name for a comedy act, Elise thought. What do they do - juggle bread rolls? Slice bread? Make fancy sandwiches?

Watch me pull a breadstick out of my hat!

I don't know what I'm doing here. Elise stared at the ground and shuffled her pointy toed ballerina flats. I hate comedy shows, she grumbled to herself. You always feel obliged to laugh if every one else is, even though you don't think what you are seeing or hearing is remotely amusing. And you feel like you have to shut up if you find something really funny and no-one else does.

Well, I guess “you” don't, but I do. She glared at Joe's back. He was reading the poster stuck up outside the venue, seemingly entranced by its inanity. She both admired and hated Joe for his ability to not give a rat's arse about anyone else's opinion. He'd guffaw loudly at anything he thought funny, with no regard for anyone's feelings - and for her feelings especially.

She was so embarrassed at the last show they attended. Joe had laughed uproariously at a female comedian whose jokes were quite feminist and in questionable taste. The comedian even had a go at Joe, accusing him of laughing because he was a sexist pig. Joe yelled back, “No, dude, I just think you are funny for a chick.”

So embarrassing.

Joe turned to her and smiled his dumb, sweet smile.

“OK, gorgeous. Ready to go in?”

Elise grunted. Really, I don't why he puts up with me, she thought. I'm clearly out of his league, and I'm rude to him and still he doesn't get the hint.

I should leave him. I'm being an unfair cow.

She wriggled in her seat, irritated beyond belief. God, are we sitting here? What is that smell? Eww, stale beer. Oh crap, they are coming on stage, this "Baguette Magique". Oh no, I don't believe it. NO, it can't be. Not him. Not her.

Joe leaned over and whispered, “I thought you'd like to see your friends. Abracadabra, watch me wave my wand and pull a couple of exes out of my hat. Ex-fiancé. Ex-best friend."

He smiled again, this time not so dumb and not so sweet.

You bastard, thought Elise.

Inspired by a prompt from Cynthia Morris in her quarterly Free Write Fling.