Ch 13. Open Mike Night
John sat in the corner of the dark tavern nursing a minty drink with a harsh burn he had no clue to the name of as he watched the stage. The Gnome’s Delight was one of many taverns to have adopted the idea of ‘open mic night’ from Earth, though they preferred to call it ‘open Isbith night’, because the gnome that had started the practice was a crooner by the name of Isbith, and they didn’t realize mike was an object, not a name. He was there to support Sarah as she debuted a new set, and he recognized a number of other people from the group there to do the same. He’d opted to sit by himself though. He saw a lot of them as clients and it wasn’t terribly fun to sit next to your therapist while you’re trying to have a good time.
The tavern itself was built for gnomes, but they had a few human sized tables and chairs for everyone else to make them more comfortable. Still, John had to be careful and duck under some low arches and had to pay an exorbitant fee for his drink to get one actually sized for someone over three feet. So far he’d watched a dwarven throat singer, a naga dancer, a necromancer with what he would have to describe as a ventriloquist act, and an elf who’d only managed to get a thousandth of the way through her song before she needed to be dragged off stage. They weren’t the best at time management.
The MC, a skinny gnome wearing a purple coat with bright gold buttons and long dark hair came up to the stage with a wide smile on his face.
“Before we get on with our usual acts, I have a special surprise for everyone!” He gestured to the edge of the stage and John had to keep himself from letting out a groan. “The famous bard Fabanaccio!”
The bard walked on stage. He was no longer wearing his colorful doublet and feathered cap, but was instead in a black doublet and slacks with a matching cape and boots. He’d dyed his hair black and turned his infectious smile upside down. To top it all off he had thick black eyeliner under his eyes. He lifted his lute, which at least was unchanged from the last time he’d seen him, and plucked a few strings.
“This is a song about how tired I am of all the sex I have,” he said as he started to strum the strings in a moody dirge.
“My mouth and tongue are sore,
From passions you implore,
I roll my aching jaw,
And force myself down for more.”
John shrank down in his chair a bit. It was to a similar tune as Johnny Cash’s cover of Hurt and sung with all the same drama and gravitas, but obviously the content was a far cry from the tone.
“Aren’t you proud of your latest success,” asked Andressa as she sat down next to him.
He looked over at her in surprise. She was a particularly bright red that evening and was wearing a dark green dress the body of which clung to her tightly while the sleeves were loose and puffy.
“Ah, is this a good place to feed?” he asked.
“One of the best. The anxiety of the performers, the secondhand embarrassment of the audience,” she smiled, “absolutely intoxicating.” She took a sip from his drink without asking him and smiled. “What are you doing here?”
“Another person from Earth in my support group is doing a fresh five minutes today. She hasn’t tried any new material in a while so I want to be here to encourage her.”
“Saving fair maidens from angry little lords and heroically enduring bad performances for them? Are you sure you weren’t knighted at some point?”
“Well, I did get an offer once after I helped a queen with her fear that a girl younger and more beautiful than her would someday usurp her, but I turned it down. I didn’t really have a place to put the horse and squire that came with the title.”
Fabanaccio ended his song with a sorrowful and sexual moan and a rapid plucking of strings. The tavern applauded loudly and at least one woman threw a large undergarment in his direction. John would have to find a way to talk to him again. He supposed he was communicating and finally doing something new with his music which was maybe a boon to his mental health, but he should still have some frank conversations with those closest to him at the very least.
He reached for his drink and saw that Andressa had left behind some black lipstick on it. He twirled it around and took a sip from his now much lighter drink. He actually didn’t mind her being there. He enjoyed her company, even with her antics. He’d found himself walking a bit more quickly to work even to see her. That thought made him nervous, as images of Katrina came to his mind. He wondered how she was doing? She was likely still travelling, on a beach somewhere, maybe with some company. He sighed and took another sip of his drink, noticing Andressa’s glowing eyes in the dim light of the tavern were on him.
“Are you alright? Did I help myself to a bit too much of your drink?”
He smiled. “No, just in a dark mood all of a sudden. I was hoping to stay in tonight before I remembered Sarah’s show.’ He glanced back to see Sarah walking up to the center of the stage. “Oh, speaking of.”
Sarah waved at everyone as she was announced and smiled.
“Not the easiest thing to follow up, but I can at least promise that my problems are a bit more relatable,” she said, pausing for a light laugh from the room. “I was almost late to the show today. I ran into an elf friend of mine and he wanted to tell me about his trip to the market. He started the story at the dawn of the age of men and it took five hours for him to get to the part where he was born.”
There was a hearty chuckle from across the room and John and Andressa laughed. They’d basically had to drag an elven client out the door earlier that day who was being far too free with their time. He had a number of elven clients, and Andressa always had to schedule out hefty blocks of time for them and he did his best to keep them as caffeinated as possible so that they would get a move on.
“I made a lizardkin friend this week. Went over to his house to have a beer and spent thirty straight minutes talking to one of his shed skins.” She smiled as the laughter built again. “That wasn’t nearly so bad as watching him fold it up and eat it though.”
More laughter this time. John took a moment to look around the room and noticed the only people not laughing were the others from the support group. They were smiling politely for the most part, but seemed disappointed. In the past all of her jokes had basically been old material from Earth that they all really enjoyed.
“I was behind a dullahan at a restaurant the other day. He must’ve eaten four plates while I was there, and I just have to ask, where does it all go?” She paused, her smile vanishing and a look of mock concern on her face. “I’m serious, where does it all go? Nothing fell out of his neck. Is he just storing it in his cheeks like a chipmunk or what?”
Her five minutes did very well. The observations were a little basic, but considering that type of humor never fell out of favor on Earth no matter how hack it became, it made sense that it would do well in Avalon too.
After she was done, she went to the bar and John said a quick goodbye to Andressa before he went to congratulate Sarah and buy her a drink. He waited patiently for her to get some kudos from a gnome and an elf, and then a few of her friends had a short conversation and left her frowning down at her drink.
“I thought you were great,” said John as he slid onto the barstool next to her. “I liked your new material.”
She smiled lightly at him. “You have to say that; you’re my therapist.”
He laughed. “Believe it or not I try to be as honest as possible with my clients. How many times have I told you to try out some new stuff?”
She nodded. “I suppose that’s true.” She sighed. “I didn’t get a lot of laughs from the others though. They seemed disappointed.”
John nodded. “I noticed that. Did they say why?”
She shook her head. “No, they were polite about it.”
John nodded as he held up a finger to the gnomish bartender who started mixing a fresh drink for him.
“You provide them some comfort, I think,” said John. “Remind them of home.”
She sighed. “Maybe that’s what they need, maybe I should keep giving it to them.”
He took a sip of his drink. “I don’t know Sarah, is that really your responsibility? How did it feel to get some new laughs for a change?”
She looked to the side. “It felt good. It was nice flexing the muscles a bit up there.”
“You don’t worry about the others. They’re my responsibility, and they could use a little bit more of a kick out of their bubble anyway.”
She shook her head and held her glass up. “To the man with the hardest job in Avalon.”
John chuckled. “I think that would be the giant that holds the whole place up.” He held his own glass up to her. “To the bravest woman of the night.”
They clinked their glasses together and shared a drink.