Felix

Part 1- Worst Heckler Ever

"I met a man this weekend." Felix smiled, pseudo-coyly, and raised a wry eyebrow at the crowd. They obliged him with an 'ooooh' and someone at the back wolf-whistled. "Yeah, yeah: he's a bit old for me- nine hundred and twenty seven-" There were a couple of chuckles from the audience, "-but he treats me right and that's what's important." Here Felix cast his gaze out over the crowd- he couldn't see much because of the lights; he didn't really know what he was looking for. He twisted the ring on his index finger, looked down at his shoe for a second, and then at the microphone, "A lot better than my last fella- he used to cheat at scrabble." Someone in the crowd gasped in mock-horror. "I know, can you believe it? What a crummy thing to do. He'd grab vowels when I wasn't looking and shove them in his underwear. And when I found them later, he'd say 'Oh no!'," Here Felix deepened his voice and put on a broad northern accent in order to portray his former lover, "'You discovered my love of pant-Es!'" The audience laughed a little, nowhere near what Felix was hoping for. That joke took a long time to write. But he couldn't focus on that, or else he wouldn't get through the set; just let it go, that was the ticket- there was always the next line. "But it's fine- this new bloke's great. He's honest and funny and athletic: he runs everywhere. He's like a bloody bath toy. You know, he has one speed and I only ever need him when I'm naked." This got more laughs. Felix smiled and took a deep breath. He was doing okay. "And, best of all, he's got a job! Yes! Even better, to make my mother happy, he's a doctor..."

Felix slammed the door to the walk-in freezer shut and scuttled quickly up the steps from the pantry. Miranda waited at the top, her face awash with panic. She opened her mouth to ask a question but Felix shut her down with a shake of his head, "Empty."

"Completely?" Miranda asked, her voice raising several octaves at once.

Felix nodded. "It's like a mormon wedding down there."

Miranda looked like she might have a fit, "Did you check-"

"I looked everywhere, Miranda, even in the bloody freezer. There's no booze, we're bone dry."

Miranda made a noise somewhere between a squeak and a gasp, "There'll be a riot! They'll cut off our heads! They'll flay us alive! They'll leave before my set!"

Felix glanced at his watch- there was still thirty minutes before Miranda was due to go onstage, and forty five before his slot. He grimaced. "Maybe we can hold off until nine; how many WKDs do you have in your handbag?" He asked.

She went to protest her innocence, but Felix tilted his head to one side and she acquiesced. "Four." Felix raised an eyebrow. "Six."

"And there's the gin in your locker."

"How do you-"

"Everyone knows about it." He glanced at his watch again, "We might just be able to keep them at bay until my set."

"And then they'll all storm the stage at the prospect of listening to you sober." She smiled at him and chuckled at her own joke.

"Yeah, real funny," He walked past her up the stairs and then turned back, "but you're going to have go on without a drink."

Her laughter stopped immediately.

At seven thirty, Felix stepped out for some fresh air. He was finding the club oddly claustrophobic, despite the decided lack of patrons. He smelled something sharp on the air and turned to see Miranda, half-hidden in the bushes, sucking on a cigarette like it was her last meal.

"Oh look, there's a chimney growing among the roses." Felix deadpanned.

"Look, no one knows." She replied, taking another drag.