Work Text:
Hey—
(taps mic)
This thing on?
(leans in, smirks)
Cool. Just checking. Wouldn’t wanna trauma-dump into a broken mic.
So… nice to be in—
(looks around, squints at the crowd)
Uh… Omaha?
(someone yells “Tennessee!”)
Tennessee?
…Okay, cool, that explains a lot.
On the way here I almost ran over three guys in white robes with pointy hoods.
(beat)
Didn’t realize hate groups had a dress code.
I mean, at least pick something less flamabal, right? You’re already evil and carryin tiki-torches — no Need to also destroy your mom’s good sheets.
Honestly though, most of the time I have no idea where I am.
Not a single clue.
Because let me tell you, every highway, every interstate?
They all look the same in every state.
Same gas stations. Same crappy diners. Same guy named Earl who’s been “just passing through” since 1987.
The only two states I haven’t been to are Hawaii and Alaska.
(waits for reaction)
Yeah.
And all of that happened after my dad got out of the military.
(lets that sink in, then laughs)
Yeah. Turns out when you leave the Marines, you don’t actually stop moving—
you just stop getting paid for it.
(laughs, shakes head)
I grew up on the road, which is cool—
because it means I never stayed in one high school long enough to worry about reunions.
No “Where are they now?”
No “Most likely to succeed.”
I already know—half of them are selling insurance and the other half Drives mini-Vans.
But it also means my answer to “Where are you from?” is always,
“Uh… right now, or originally?”
(pause for laughs)
People don’t like that answer.
They just slowly back away like I’m about to ask for money.
Im basically living in the car i grew up in.
And honestly?
It’s not that different from all of you still living in your childhood bedrooms.
(beat)
Except my car has seen more action than your bedroom ever will.
(waits for laughter, smug grin)
And unlike you guys, I don’t have to sneak girls out after.
Because my mom’s been dead since Reagan was in office.
(mixed laugh / groan)
Yeah…
Half of you just checked Wikipedia.
The other half just realized they’re older than my first big childhood trauma.
And my dad?
(shrugs and smirks)
No idea where he is.
He’s been missing for a while, but I’m sure he’s fine.
He’s probably sitting somewhere dramatically, staring at his wedding ring.
(beat)
Men do that instead of therapy.
(pause for reactions)
I tried therapy once.
Didn’t stick.
Guy asked me how I felt, I said “hungry,” and that was kind of the end of it.
My little brother just went off to Stanford.
(waits for reaction)
Yeah, I know.
Which is wild—
because I helped him with his homework.
And I didn’t even finish high school.
(audience reaction)
Oh don’t worry, yeah don’t worry though.
I may live in my car and quit in 12th grade, but I’m living the dream.
Like a little kid who just got handed a credit card.
No rules.
No supervision.
(smug grin)
What?
Pickles and tomatoes on burgers count as vegetables.
I eat balanced.
Sometimes the beer’s in the other hand.
And yeah—
I flirt.
A lot.
With women.
All kinds of women.
Young.
Older.
Some of them old enough to be your Mothers.
(laughs)
Tell your moms I said hi.
(dirty smirk)
Look, I respect women.
I just also respect a good neckline and poor life choices.
So if you’re wondering why I’m doing comedy—
this is the only place I can talk about my life
and people clap
instead of calling a social worker.
My name’s Dean.
You’ve been a great crowd.
Drive safe—
and if you see my dad, tell him to call.
Goodnight.