LostSole
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The comedy clubs in town had long been Jason Martin’s domain. For years, his name on the marquee guaranteed a packed house, his routines a staple of Friday nights and local lore. At six feet tall, with a shock of dark hair that never seemed to cooperate and a grin that could charm anyone into a laugh, Jason had worked tirelessly to become the funniest man in town. His observational humor and razor-sharp wit left audiences roaring, earning him a reputation as the king of comedy.
But then he showed up.
Liam Rivers. The name was everywhere almost overnight. It started with whispers:
"Did you see that new guy at the LOL Lounge?"
"You have to check out this clip, he’s hilarious!"
Within weeks, Liam’s star had risen faster than anyone on the local scene had ever seen. He was younger, fresher, with a modern, relatable style that resonated with a new wave of comedy fans. Clubs that had once been Jason’s stomping grounds now clamored to book Liam. Crowds that used to cheer Jason’s name were now lining up to see the new golden boy.
Jason’s bookings dwindled. His once-loyal audience seemed to forget he existed. And Jason? He seethed. For the first time in years, he wasn’t the funniest guy in the room. His anger simmered, fed by jealousy and wounded pride. He told himself it was just a phase, that the novelty of Liam would wear off. But it didn’t. Week after week, Liam’s star only burned brighter, while Jason felt himself fading into the background.
And then, one night, Jason snapped.
The plan was simple, in theory. Jason would confront Liam, make him understand the consequences of stealing his spotlight. Maybe even scare him enough to make him think twice about setting foot on Jason’s stages again. The how didn’t matter; what mattered was regaining control of his kingdom.
Jason watched Liam carefully for days, learning his routines, waiting for the perfect opportunity. It came after one of Liam’s late-night sets at the LOL Lounge, where Jason had once headlined every Saturday. Liam left through the back alley, his bag slung over one shoulder, whistling to himself in the dim glow of the streetlights.
Jason was waiting.
“Nice show tonight,” Jason said, stepping out of the shadows. His voice was calm, almost conversational.
Liam turned, startled but smiling when he saw Jason. “Oh, hey! Thanks, man. That means a lot coming from you.”
Jason’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah. You’ve been doing pretty well for yourself, haven’t you?”
“Uh, I guess so.” Liam’s laugh was nervous now, sensing something off in Jason’s tone. “Hey, if this is about me booking The Laugh Stand Comedy Club next week—”
Before Liam could finish, Jason struck. A quick jab of a needle into Liam’s arm, and the younger comedian staggered, his bag falling to the ground. He tried to speak, but his words slurred as his knees buckled. Jason caught him before he hit the pavement, dragging Liam’s unconscious form toward his car.
The dim light flickered overhead, casting long, wavering shadows across the room. The faint scent of old wood and cleaning chemicals lingered in the air. As his senses returned, Liam blinked groggily, his head lolling forward. Something was wrong. Very wrong. He tried to move but found his arms pinned behind him, wrists bound tightly to the back of a wooden chair. His ankles were tied to the chair legs, restricting even the slightest movement.
"Finally awake, huh?" came a voice from somewhere behind him, sharp and dripping with sarcasm. The sound was unmistakable: Jason Martin, the king of local comedy clubs. Until now, that is.
Liam craned his neck, groaning as the motion sent a dull throb through his temples. "Jason?" he rasped. "What the hell is going on? Is this—" He coughed. "Is this some kind of joke?"
Jason stepped into view, his silhouette cutting a dramatic figure in the dim light. He wore his signature leather jacket and a smug grin, but there was something wild in his eyes, a glint of desperation that hadn’t been there before. He folded his arms, leaning casually against the table in front of Liam.
"A joke?" Jason chuckled, shaking his head. "No, Liam. This is what we call comedic justice. And trust me, it’s going to leave you in stitches."
Liam blinked, his brain still foggy but starting to catch up. "You... kidnapped me?" His voice cracked with disbelief. "Are you out of your mind?"
Jason smirked, "Kidnapped? That’s such an ugly word. I prefer ‘borrowed.’ I borrowed you for a little... conversation."
"Conversation?" Liam rattled his bindings, his voice rising. "You tied me to a chair, man! This is nuts! What are you even—"
Jason raised a hand, cutting him off. "You waltzed into this town, took over every stage, stole every crowd—and what did you leave me with? Scraps! Empty bookings! People canceling gigs because, and I quote, ‘Liam’s in town, and we’re all booked up.’ Do you have any idea what that does to a guy’s reputation? To his pride?"
Liam stared at him, incredulous. "You’re joking. This is because of gigs? Jason, you’re a legend here! People love you!"
"They loved me," Jason snapped, his voice sharp as a whip. He leaned in close, his face inches from Liam’s. "Then you showed up, Mr. Hotshot. Funny this, funny that. Suddenly, I’m old news. People don’t care about the classics anymore. They want your flashy new act. Your—your viral jokes and your stupid TikToks."
Liam couldn’t help it—he laughed, a breathless sound that only made Jason’s scowl deepen. "You’re jealous? That’s what this is about? Look, man, we’re comedians, not mafia bosses. It’s not a zero-sum game. There’s room for both of us. You didn’t need to go all... supervillain on me."
Jason straightened, smoothing his jacket with exaggerated care. "Oh, there’s plenty of room in this town," he said, his voice calm again. "But only for one king of comedy. And I think it’s time you learned a lesson about what it means to be funny."
Liam’s laughter faltered as Jason stepped closer, pulling a feather from his pocket. He held it up with a theatrical flourish, letting the light catch its soft, sinister barbs. "You think you’re the funniest guy in town, huh? Let’s see how funny you are when you’re the punchline."
Jason knelt by Liam’s feet, pulling off his shoes and socks with the flair of a magician revealing his final trick. Liam squirmed in the chair, his voice rising in pitch. "Jason! Come on, man! This isn’t funny!"
"Isn’t it?" Jason teased, wiggling the feather between his fingers. He leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Because I think the audience is going to love this part."
The feather’s first stroke along Liam’s arch was enough to send him into hysterics. He jerked against the ropes, his laughter spilling out in helpless bursts. "HAHAHA! NOHOHO! YOU CAHAHAHAN’T BE SEHEHERIOUS!"
Jason’s grin only widened. "Serious? Me? Never. I’m a comedian, remember? Now laugh it up, rookie.”
“HAHAHA! STAHAHAHAP!” Liam’s laughter teetered between frantic disbelief and helpless desperation, every burst sharper and more uncontrollable than the last. “HAHAHA! THIHIS IS INSANE!” he howled, his head thrashing wildly from side to side as Jason’s feather glided along his bare soles, unrelenting and maddeningly precise.
Jason tilted his head, a mock-thoughtful expression plastered across his face as he halted the feather’s torturous path. “Insane?” he repeated, pretending to be wounded. “Coming from you, that’s harsh. I thought you’d appreciate the effort; this bit even has a title! I call it, ‘The Undisputed King of Comedy Takes the Stage.’ Catchy, right?”
Liam gasped for air, twisting in his chair. “Sounds more like… a bad Netflix special!” he shot back, his voice breaking into hysterics as Jason resumed the tickling with newfound vigor.
Jason smirked, shaking his head casually, the feather gliding effortlessly along Liam’s soles. “Wow. A Netflix burn. How original,” he said, as though the hysterical cackling next to him wasn’t happening. “You’re just upset because my set is getting bigger laughs than yours right now.”
Liam wheezed through his laughter. “HAHAHA! Yeah—HAHA—you’ve got a real captive audience!” he shot back, jerking against the ropes. “AHAHAHA! Literally! HAHA! Now untie MEHEHEHE before you embarr—AHAHASS yourself—HAHA—any further!”
Jason paused the tickling, holding the feather mid-air as he snorted, shaking his head. “Embarrass myself? Oh, no, no, no. You’re the one tied up, barefoot, and laughing like a hyena on helium. If anyone’s embarrassing themselves, it’s the guy who thought he could dethrone me.”
“I didn’t… ‘dethrone’ you… Jason!” Liam shot back, his words punctuated by gasps for air. “Audiences just… prefer my humor… over your... whatever that… hacky dad-joke routine… is supposed to be.”
Jason froze, narrowing his eyes. “Hacky? I’ll show you hacky!” Jason’s smile turned wicked as he tossed the feather aside and wiggled his fingers ominously above Liam’s soles before attacking.
“NOHOHO! WAIT! I TAHAHAKE IT BAHACK!” Liam shrieked as Jason’s fingers danced mercilessly over his arches, his laughter exploding once again. “HAHAHA! OKAY, OKAHAHAY! YOU’RE NOT HAHAHAHACKY!”
Jason grinned, not letting up for a second. “See? That’s more like it. Now, say it louder so the whole town knows.”
“HAHAHA! YOU’RE NAHAHAT HACKY!” Liam howled, tears streaming down his face. “YOU’RE—HAHAHA—JUST OUTDATED!”
Jason gasped dramatically, clutching his chest with one hand. “Outdated? Oh, Liam, you’re really pushing your luck now.”
“YOU STAHAHARTED IHIHIT!” Liam wheezed, trying and failing to twist his feet away from Jason’s relentless fingers. “HAHAHA! YOU’RE THEHEHE ONE WHO—HAHA—STAGED THIS WHOHOHOLE THIHIHING!”
Jason paused, wiping a mock tear from his eye. “Ah, you’re right. I did start it. But I intend to finish it, too. And when I do, you’ll be begging me to go back to my ‘hacky dad jokes.’”
Liam sucked in deep breaths, his laughter subsiding as Jason stood and began circling the chair, his movements deliberate, like a predator stalking its prey. Beads of sweat glistened on Liam’s brow, a testament to the relentless tickling.
“What now, huh?” Liam quipped, his voice hoarse but laced with defiance. “Gonna roast me… until I cry? Or is this the part… where you break out… the rubber chickens?”
Jason smirked. “Cry? No, no. Tears are a given. But if you think you’re walking out of here without admitting that I’m the funniest guy in town, you’re in for a long night.”
Liam rolled his eyes, still panting. “Fine… you’re the funniest guy… in town. Can I go now?”
Jason tapped his finger against his chin, pretending to think. “Hmm. Tempting. But no. I want you to mean it.”
“I do mean it!” Liam insisted, his voice cracking with mock sincerity. “You’re the funniest guy in town! Better than me! Better than anyone! Happy?”
Jason’s grin widened as he knelt, leaning in close. “Not quite. Say it with laughter, Liam.”
“No! Wait—” Liam’s protest dissolved into fresh hysterics as Jason struck again, this time targeting his ribs with swift, practiced pokes. “HAHAHAHA! STAHAHAHAP! THIS ISN’T HOHOHOW YOU WIHIHIHIN!”
Jason’s laugh joined Liam’s, low and triumphant. “Who said anything about winning? This is about legacy, Liam. And mine is unshakable.”
Liam’s voice climbed several octaves as Jason’s hands worked their way up to his underarms. “HAHAHA! FIHIHINE! FINE! YOU’RE THEHEHE GREAHAHAHTEST! THE KIHIHIHING! HAHAHA! PLEASE STAHAHAHAP!”
Jason paused, his fingers hovering over Liam’s torso as he raised an eyebrow. “The king, huh? Now that has a nice ring to it.”
“YEAH!” Liam gasped, his chest heaving. “The king! Long may… he reign! Now untie me… before you hurt yourself… trying to think of another pun.”
Jason chuckled as he stood up. “Oh, Liam, you’re not just funny—you’re almost adorable. But no one out-jokes the king.”
“You mean the jester,” Liam muttered under his breath, earning a sharp poke to the ribs that reignited his laughter. “What was that?” Jason asked, his grin devilish. “You’ve got jokes now, huh? Let’s see how well you deliver punchlines when you’re laughing too hard to breathe.” He lunged, this time digging his fingers mercilessly into Liam’s sides.
“HAHAHA! NOHOHO!” Liam screamed, twisting in his seat as much as the ropes allowed. “HAHAHA THIHIHIS IS A CRIHIHIHIME!”
Jason paused, his fingers hovering. “A crime? You’re calling this a crime? Let me tell you what’s a real crime, Liam—your closer last night. ‘Why did the avocado break up with the toast?’” Jason made a face of mock disgust. “Really? That’s your big finale? What kind of lazy setup was that?”
Liam shot him a glare. “The punchline was solid!”
“Oh yeah?” Jason said, crossing his arms. “Let me guess. ‘Because it wanted to spread its wings?’ Or maybe, ‘It couldn’t handle the pressure?’”
“No,” Liam said, a grin creeping onto his face despite the situation. “Because it realized it was in a jam.”
Jason froze for a beat, staring at him with a mix of horror and disgust. “A jam? Really?”
“It’s wordplay!” Liam said defensively.
Jason sighed, rubbing his temples. “It’s wordplay the way burnt toast is breakfast. Technically, it counts, but no one’s asking for seconds.”
“Oh yeah? Well, you’re one cargo-short purchase away from being a walking Dad Joke.” Liam shot back, grinning.
Jason stepped closer, leaning down until his face was inches from Liam’s. “Oh, you’re really asking for it now.”
"Really?" Liam grinned, raising an eyebrow. "What are you gonna do, tickle me to death like some kind of rejected Muppet villain? That’s not comedy—it’s a fetish!"
Jason froze for a moment, his eyes narrowing. “Fetish? Oh, no, no. This is performance art, my dear Liam. You’re just too uncultured to appreciate it.”
“Performance art?” Liam wheezed, laughing despite himself. “You kidnapped me and tied me to a chair! This isn’t performance art—it’s the plot of a Dateline episode!”
Jason chuckled darkly. “Dateline? Please. They couldn’t afford me. Now, enough chit-chat. Time to finish the show.”
Before Liam could respond, Jason retrieved two feathers and launched a flurry of ticklish attacks, this time using the quill ends on Liam’s bare feet. The younger comedian erupted into hysterical laughter, his head snapping back as he thrashed helplessly against the ropes.
“HAHAHA! OH MY GOD! STAHAHAHAP! YOU’RE CRAHAHAHAZY!” Liam shrieked, tears streaming down his face.
Jason’s grin was maniacal now. “Crazy? No, Liam. Crazy is trying to follow my act at The Laugh Stand Comedy Club with avocado toast jokes! THIS is justifiable revenge!”
“HAHAHA! PLEAHEHEHESE! I’LL GIVE YOU WHAHAHATEVER YOU WAHAHAHANT!” Liam howled, his voice cracking. “JUST STAHAHAHAP!”
Jason paused, his smirk fading into a thoughtful expression as he studied Liam’s tear-streaked face and heaving chest. Without a word, he stepped back and began pacing the room, rubbing his chin as if lost in deep thought. Liam, still bound to the chair and gasping for breath, watched him with wary eyes. The tension hung thick in the air, broken only by the occasional creak of the wooden chair as Liam shifted uneasily.
“Alright,” Jason said finally, snapping his fingers like he’d had an epiphany. “Let’s settle this once and for all.”
Liam groaned. “What now, Jason? You already turned me into a human laugh track.”
Jason ignored him, “If you’re going to stay in my comedy town, you’re going to prove you belong here.”
“I thought I already did that,” Liam muttered, testing the ropes. “You know, with the sold-out shows and standing ovations?”
Jason turned sharply, “Wrong. True comedy is earned. We’re about to have a Joke-Off.”
Liam raised an eyebrow. “A what?”
“You heard me. We go joke for joke. No props, no audience, just raw material. Whoever gets the most laughs stays the king.”
Liam blinked at him, incredulous. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”
Jason leaned in, grinning. “What’s the matter? Scared you’ll lose?”
“No,” Liam shot back, his eyes narrowing. “I’m scared I’ll laugh at how bad your jokes are and give you the win by accident.”
Jason chuckled, dragging a stool in front of Liam and sitting down. “Big talk for a guy who’s still tied to a chair. Alright, let’s see what you’ve got.”
Liam sighed dramatically. “Fine. What do you call a factory that makes okay products?”
Jason tilted his head, suspicious. “What?”
“A satisfactory,” Liam deadpanned.
Jason rolled his eyes. “Weak start. Watch and learn.” He cleared his throat. “What do you call a snowman with a six-pack?”
Liam raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know. What?”
“An ab-dominable snowman!” Jason declared, beaming.
Liam groaned. “That’s so bad it physically hurt me.”
Jason smirked. “Oh, we’re just getting started.”
“I think you’ve already peaked,” Liam quipped. “But fine, here’s one. Why don’t skeletons fight each other?”
Jason sighed, playing along. “Why?”
“They don’t have the guts.”
Jason stared at him for a long moment, then gave a slow, sarcastic clap. “Wow. Let me guess, next you’ll tell me a ghost walks into a bar and orders a ‘boo-rbon.’”
“That’s actually not bad,” Liam admitted, tilting his head slightly. “Too bad you didn’t think of it during your set last night.”
Jason’s smirk faltered for a brief moment before snapping back into place. “Alright, rookie, why did the scarecrow win an award?”
“Because he was outstanding in his field,” Liam replied flatly, not missing a beat. “Everyone knows that one. You might as well ask why the chicken crossed the road.”
Jason’s smirk grew into a sly grin as he leaned in with mock seriousness. “Alright, wise guy. Why did the chicken cross the road?”
Liam sighed, already bracing himself. “I don’t know. Why?”
“To get away from your Avocado Jam bit.”
Liam’s jaw dropped. “Oh, that’s low.”
“Low?” Jason shot back, his grin spreading. “No, your punchlines are low. My jokes are timeless.”
Liam leaned forward slightly, narrowing his eyes. “Why did the toilet paper roll down the hill?”
Jason shrugged, playing along. “To get to the bottom?”
“No,” Liam quipped, his earlier grin returning. “To escape your endless crap jokes!”
Jason raised an eyebrow, his smirk unfaltering. “Cute,” he said, brushing it off before firing back. “Why did the hipster burn his tongue?”
Liam sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t know. Why?”
“Because he drank his coffee before it was cool.”
The room went silent for a moment, both men locking eyes. Then, as if on cue, Liam burst into laughter, struggling to catch his breath. Jason folded his arms smugly, watching with satisfaction as Liam doubled over, trying to compose himself.
“Fine!” Liam wheezed. “You win this round. But you didn’t earn it.”
Jason chuckled, leaning back on his stool. “A win’s a win, rookie. And don’t you forget it.”
Liam smirked. “You know, if you spent this much energy on your act, you might actually get booked again.”
Jason pointed an accusatory finger at him. “You’re walking on thin ice, rookie.”
“Thin ice?” Liam grinned. “That’s funny, because it feels like you’re the one slipping.”
Jason let out a frustrated laugh, shaking his head. “You think you’re so clever.”
“I know I’m clever,” Liam shot back. “You, on the other hand, are one bad Yelp review away from doing birthday parties.”
Jason glared at him. “You’re lucky I’m a reasonable man.”
“Reasonable?” Liam laughed, “You kidnapped me and tickled me half to death! You’re about as reasonable as a drunk raccoon. Next time maybe just send a strongly worded email instead of going full Bond villain.”
Jason raised an eyebrow, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. “A drunk raccoon? Really?” He chuckled despite himself, shaking his head as he gestured toward Liam. “Alright, but before I do let you go, there’s one last thing—”
Liam rolled his eyes. “Let me guess—you want me to applaud you for being the most unhinged person I’ve ever met?”
Jason shook his head, feigning offense. “Unhinged? No. I’m committed. There’s a difference.”
“Right, because nothing screams ‘commitment to comedy’ like kidnapping someone,” Liam deadpanned.
Jason ignored him, folding his arms with mock grandeur. “When I walk into a room, people think, ‘There he is, the King of Comedy.’ When you walk into a room, they think, ‘Hey, who ordered the open mic guy?’”
Liam scoffed. “Open mic guy? You’re one to talk. Your last set bombed so hard FEMA showed up to assess the damage.”
Jason froze, narrowing his eyes. “Oh, that’s rich coming from the guy whose idea of a closer is asking if eggs feel bad about being scrambled. What was that punchline again? ‘They crack under pressure’? Genius.”
“It’s relatable,” Liam shot back. “You wouldn’t understand. Your jokes are so outdated they probably had a MySpace page.”
“MySpace?!” Jason gasped, clutching his chest in mock offense. “At least my humor doesn’t rely on whatever TikTok trend is hot this week.”
“Oh, sure,” Liam retorted. “Because ‘What’s the deal with airline food?’ is cutting-edge social commentary.”
Jason huffed. “Alright, fine! Let’s talk about your act, Mr. Modern. You’ve got all these clever, trendy jokes, but where’s the heart, Liam? Where’s the storytelling?”
“Oh, you want stories?” Liam said, tilting his head. “How about the one where a washed-up comic kidnaps the new guy because he’s insecure about his declining popularity?”
Jason groaned, throwing his hands up. “Kidnaps? It’s not kidnapping! It’s a creative intervention.”
“A creative intervention?” Liam raised an eyebrow. “You tied me to a chair with actual rope, Jason. This isn’t an intervention—it’s the opening scene of a Lifetime movie.”
“Lifetime? Please,” Jason scoffed. “If anything, this is HBO material. Dark comedy. Award-winning stuff.”
Liam couldn’t help but laugh. “Sure. ‘Jason Martin: The Comic Who Tickled His Way to Infamy.’ Sounds like an Emmy winner.”
Jason leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Tickled his way? You’re underestimating me, kid. When I’m done, people won’t just laugh—they’ll cry.”
“That’s... not the compliment you think it is,” Liam said, pulling at his ropes. “If anything, that sounds like the tagline for a horror movie.”
Jason leaned back, clapping his hands together like he’d just solved a puzzle. “You’re right! Comedy is horror! They’re practically the same thing. Both make people uncomfortable, both involve a lot of screaming, and in the end, someone’s always scarred for life.”
“Wow,” Liam said, blinking. “You really missed your calling as a motivational speaker.”
Jason smirked. “Oh, I motivate people all the time. Just last week, I motivated a heckler to leave the room by making him laugh so hard he spilled his beer.”
“Or,” Liam countered, “he left because he couldn’t take another minute of your Crocs material.”
Jason pointed at Liam again, his grin sharp. “You’ve got jokes, kid, but let’s see if you’re laughing after this.”
Jason lunged forward, his fingers digging mercilessly into Liam’s ribs, poking and prodding with precision. The younger comedian burst into uncontrollable laughter, his body jerking wildly against the restraints.
“HAHAHA! OKAY! OKAHAHAY! STAHAHAHAP!” Liam gasped, tears streaming down his face. “THIHIHIS ISN’T EVEHEHEN CLEVER!”
Jason grinned. “Oh, it’s very clever. It’s called physical comedy. You wouldn’t know—you’re too busy being meta.”
“HAHAHA! YOU’RE JUST MAD—HAHAHA—THAT PEOPLE LIHIHIKE MY ACT MOHOHORE! AHAHA! AND NOHOHOW YOU’RE GETTHIHIING—HAHA—FEWER BOOKINGS THAHAHAN A MIHIHIME AT —AHAHAHA—A KARAOKE BAR!” Liam shouted through his laughter.
Jason paused, “Like your act more? Liam, people like easy laughs. It doesn’t mean they respect you.”
“Easy laughs?” Liam gasped, his chest heaving. “You’ve been… milking a Crocs bit… for five years. At this point… they owe you royalties.”
Jason let out a dramatic sigh, “You know, I thought this would be fun. Two comedians, duking it out with words and wit. But you’re just exhausting.”
“Yeah,” Liam panted, grinning weakly. “Imagine how I feel… listening to your set.”
Jason glared at him for a beat, then shook his head. “You’re lucky I don’t have time to break you properly. I’ve got a set tomorrow.”
“Oh, good,” Liam said, smirking. “Maybe you’ll use it to finally retire that Crocs joke.”
Jason chuckled, grabbing a pair of scissors. “You’re funny, Liam. Annoying, but funny. Let’s see if the crowd agrees tomorrow night.”
“Count on it,” Liam said as Jason cut the last rope. “And don’t worry, I’ll save you a seat in the audience.”
He rose slowly, his movements unsteady as he flexed his wrists. Jason leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a faint smirk playing at his lips. The room hung in tense silence, broken only by Liam’s shaky laugh.
“You know,” Liam said, wiping a tear from his cheek, “I’ve done some wild gigs before, but this? This is a career highlight. Being kidnapped and tickled by the ‘King of Comedy.’ Really adds to the résumé.”
Jason’s smirk twitched, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of guilt. “You’ll thank me one day,” he said, his voice quieter now. “A lesson in humility. Every comedian needs one.”
Liam scoffed. “Humility? You tied me to a chair and went full Bond villain because your ego couldn’t handle the competition.”
Jason stepped forward, his grin fading. “It’s not just about competition, Liam. It’s about legacy. About everything I built. You think it’s easy, watching someone new come in and erase you like you never mattered?”
Liam tilted his head, his voice softening. “No, I don’t think it’s easy. But that’s not on me, Jason. Your legacy isn’t about what I do—it’s about what you leave behind. And right now? You’re leaving a mess.”
Jason froze, the words cutting deeper than he’d expected. For the first time, he didn’t have a retort, no quick-witted comeback to deflect the weight of Liam’s words. He glanced at the feather still lying on the table and let out a hollow laugh.
“Maybe you’re right,” Jason muttered. “Maybe I went too far.”
“Maybe?” Liam raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been auditioning for an insanity plea all night.”
Jason smirked despite himself. “You’re lucky you’re funny, rookie.”
“And you’re lucky I don’t press charges,” Liam shot back. “Seriously, Jason, you’ve still got something to give. Stop wasting it trying to take me down.”
Jason nodded slowly, the fight draining from his posture. “Guess it’s time to put the work in again. Earn the laughs.”
Liam stepped toward the door, pausing with his hand on the knob. “You want to stay in the game? Start writing better material. Stop relying on feathers and grudges.”
Jason chuckled softly. “Noted.”
Liam glanced back one last time, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “See you on stage, Jason.”
Jason watched him leave, the door swinging shut with a soft click. He stood there for a moment, staring at the empty space Liam had occupied. Then, with a deep breath, he grabbed a notebook from the table and sat down, pen in hand.
The notebook’s blank page stared back at him, a daunting challenge—but also an opportunity. Jason smiled faintly, the first real smile in weeks, and wrote three words across the top:
The Comeback King.
THE END
But then he showed up.
Liam Rivers. The name was everywhere almost overnight. It started with whispers:
"Did you see that new guy at the LOL Lounge?"
"You have to check out this clip, he’s hilarious!"
Within weeks, Liam’s star had risen faster than anyone on the local scene had ever seen. He was younger, fresher, with a modern, relatable style that resonated with a new wave of comedy fans. Clubs that had once been Jason’s stomping grounds now clamored to book Liam. Crowds that used to cheer Jason’s name were now lining up to see the new golden boy.
Jason’s bookings dwindled. His once-loyal audience seemed to forget he existed. And Jason? He seethed. For the first time in years, he wasn’t the funniest guy in the room. His anger simmered, fed by jealousy and wounded pride. He told himself it was just a phase, that the novelty of Liam would wear off. But it didn’t. Week after week, Liam’s star only burned brighter, while Jason felt himself fading into the background.
And then, one night, Jason snapped.
The plan was simple, in theory. Jason would confront Liam, make him understand the consequences of stealing his spotlight. Maybe even scare him enough to make him think twice about setting foot on Jason’s stages again. The how didn’t matter; what mattered was regaining control of his kingdom.
Jason watched Liam carefully for days, learning his routines, waiting for the perfect opportunity. It came after one of Liam’s late-night sets at the LOL Lounge, where Jason had once headlined every Saturday. Liam left through the back alley, his bag slung over one shoulder, whistling to himself in the dim glow of the streetlights.
Jason was waiting.
“Nice show tonight,” Jason said, stepping out of the shadows. His voice was calm, almost conversational.
Liam turned, startled but smiling when he saw Jason. “Oh, hey! Thanks, man. That means a lot coming from you.”
Jason’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah. You’ve been doing pretty well for yourself, haven’t you?”
“Uh, I guess so.” Liam’s laugh was nervous now, sensing something off in Jason’s tone. “Hey, if this is about me booking The Laugh Stand Comedy Club next week—”
Before Liam could finish, Jason struck. A quick jab of a needle into Liam’s arm, and the younger comedian staggered, his bag falling to the ground. He tried to speak, but his words slurred as his knees buckled. Jason caught him before he hit the pavement, dragging Liam’s unconscious form toward his car.
The dim light flickered overhead, casting long, wavering shadows across the room. The faint scent of old wood and cleaning chemicals lingered in the air. As his senses returned, Liam blinked groggily, his head lolling forward. Something was wrong. Very wrong. He tried to move but found his arms pinned behind him, wrists bound tightly to the back of a wooden chair. His ankles were tied to the chair legs, restricting even the slightest movement.
"Finally awake, huh?" came a voice from somewhere behind him, sharp and dripping with sarcasm. The sound was unmistakable: Jason Martin, the king of local comedy clubs. Until now, that is.
Liam craned his neck, groaning as the motion sent a dull throb through his temples. "Jason?" he rasped. "What the hell is going on? Is this—" He coughed. "Is this some kind of joke?"
Jason stepped into view, his silhouette cutting a dramatic figure in the dim light. He wore his signature leather jacket and a smug grin, but there was something wild in his eyes, a glint of desperation that hadn’t been there before. He folded his arms, leaning casually against the table in front of Liam.
"A joke?" Jason chuckled, shaking his head. "No, Liam. This is what we call comedic justice. And trust me, it’s going to leave you in stitches."
Liam blinked, his brain still foggy but starting to catch up. "You... kidnapped me?" His voice cracked with disbelief. "Are you out of your mind?"
Jason smirked, "Kidnapped? That’s such an ugly word. I prefer ‘borrowed.’ I borrowed you for a little... conversation."
"Conversation?" Liam rattled his bindings, his voice rising. "You tied me to a chair, man! This is nuts! What are you even—"
Jason raised a hand, cutting him off. "You waltzed into this town, took over every stage, stole every crowd—and what did you leave me with? Scraps! Empty bookings! People canceling gigs because, and I quote, ‘Liam’s in town, and we’re all booked up.’ Do you have any idea what that does to a guy’s reputation? To his pride?"
Liam stared at him, incredulous. "You’re joking. This is because of gigs? Jason, you’re a legend here! People love you!"
"They loved me," Jason snapped, his voice sharp as a whip. He leaned in close, his face inches from Liam’s. "Then you showed up, Mr. Hotshot. Funny this, funny that. Suddenly, I’m old news. People don’t care about the classics anymore. They want your flashy new act. Your—your viral jokes and your stupid TikToks."
Liam couldn’t help it—he laughed, a breathless sound that only made Jason’s scowl deepen. "You’re jealous? That’s what this is about? Look, man, we’re comedians, not mafia bosses. It’s not a zero-sum game. There’s room for both of us. You didn’t need to go all... supervillain on me."
Jason straightened, smoothing his jacket with exaggerated care. "Oh, there’s plenty of room in this town," he said, his voice calm again. "But only for one king of comedy. And I think it’s time you learned a lesson about what it means to be funny."
Liam’s laughter faltered as Jason stepped closer, pulling a feather from his pocket. He held it up with a theatrical flourish, letting the light catch its soft, sinister barbs. "You think you’re the funniest guy in town, huh? Let’s see how funny you are when you’re the punchline."
Jason knelt by Liam’s feet, pulling off his shoes and socks with the flair of a magician revealing his final trick. Liam squirmed in the chair, his voice rising in pitch. "Jason! Come on, man! This isn’t funny!"
"Isn’t it?" Jason teased, wiggling the feather between his fingers. He leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Because I think the audience is going to love this part."
The feather’s first stroke along Liam’s arch was enough to send him into hysterics. He jerked against the ropes, his laughter spilling out in helpless bursts. "HAHAHA! NOHOHO! YOU CAHAHAHAN’T BE SEHEHERIOUS!"
Jason’s grin only widened. "Serious? Me? Never. I’m a comedian, remember? Now laugh it up, rookie.”
“HAHAHA! STAHAHAHAP!” Liam’s laughter teetered between frantic disbelief and helpless desperation, every burst sharper and more uncontrollable than the last. “HAHAHA! THIHIS IS INSANE!” he howled, his head thrashing wildly from side to side as Jason’s feather glided along his bare soles, unrelenting and maddeningly precise.
Jason tilted his head, a mock-thoughtful expression plastered across his face as he halted the feather’s torturous path. “Insane?” he repeated, pretending to be wounded. “Coming from you, that’s harsh. I thought you’d appreciate the effort; this bit even has a title! I call it, ‘The Undisputed King of Comedy Takes the Stage.’ Catchy, right?”
Liam gasped for air, twisting in his chair. “Sounds more like… a bad Netflix special!” he shot back, his voice breaking into hysterics as Jason resumed the tickling with newfound vigor.
Jason smirked, shaking his head casually, the feather gliding effortlessly along Liam’s soles. “Wow. A Netflix burn. How original,” he said, as though the hysterical cackling next to him wasn’t happening. “You’re just upset because my set is getting bigger laughs than yours right now.”
Liam wheezed through his laughter. “HAHAHA! Yeah—HAHA—you’ve got a real captive audience!” he shot back, jerking against the ropes. “AHAHAHA! Literally! HAHA! Now untie MEHEHEHE before you embarr—AHAHASS yourself—HAHA—any further!”
Jason paused the tickling, holding the feather mid-air as he snorted, shaking his head. “Embarrass myself? Oh, no, no, no. You’re the one tied up, barefoot, and laughing like a hyena on helium. If anyone’s embarrassing themselves, it’s the guy who thought he could dethrone me.”
“I didn’t… ‘dethrone’ you… Jason!” Liam shot back, his words punctuated by gasps for air. “Audiences just… prefer my humor… over your... whatever that… hacky dad-joke routine… is supposed to be.”
Jason froze, narrowing his eyes. “Hacky? I’ll show you hacky!” Jason’s smile turned wicked as he tossed the feather aside and wiggled his fingers ominously above Liam’s soles before attacking.
“NOHOHO! WAIT! I TAHAHAKE IT BAHACK!” Liam shrieked as Jason’s fingers danced mercilessly over his arches, his laughter exploding once again. “HAHAHA! OKAY, OKAHAHAY! YOU’RE NOT HAHAHAHACKY!”
Jason grinned, not letting up for a second. “See? That’s more like it. Now, say it louder so the whole town knows.”
“HAHAHA! YOU’RE NAHAHAT HACKY!” Liam howled, tears streaming down his face. “YOU’RE—HAHAHA—JUST OUTDATED!”
Jason gasped dramatically, clutching his chest with one hand. “Outdated? Oh, Liam, you’re really pushing your luck now.”
“YOU STAHAHARTED IHIHIT!” Liam wheezed, trying and failing to twist his feet away from Jason’s relentless fingers. “HAHAHA! YOU’RE THEHEHE ONE WHO—HAHA—STAGED THIS WHOHOHOLE THIHIHING!”
Jason paused, wiping a mock tear from his eye. “Ah, you’re right. I did start it. But I intend to finish it, too. And when I do, you’ll be begging me to go back to my ‘hacky dad jokes.’”
Liam sucked in deep breaths, his laughter subsiding as Jason stood and began circling the chair, his movements deliberate, like a predator stalking its prey. Beads of sweat glistened on Liam’s brow, a testament to the relentless tickling.
“What now, huh?” Liam quipped, his voice hoarse but laced with defiance. “Gonna roast me… until I cry? Or is this the part… where you break out… the rubber chickens?”
Jason smirked. “Cry? No, no. Tears are a given. But if you think you’re walking out of here without admitting that I’m the funniest guy in town, you’re in for a long night.”
Liam rolled his eyes, still panting. “Fine… you’re the funniest guy… in town. Can I go now?”
Jason tapped his finger against his chin, pretending to think. “Hmm. Tempting. But no. I want you to mean it.”
“I do mean it!” Liam insisted, his voice cracking with mock sincerity. “You’re the funniest guy in town! Better than me! Better than anyone! Happy?”
Jason’s grin widened as he knelt, leaning in close. “Not quite. Say it with laughter, Liam.”
“No! Wait—” Liam’s protest dissolved into fresh hysterics as Jason struck again, this time targeting his ribs with swift, practiced pokes. “HAHAHAHA! STAHAHAHAP! THIS ISN’T HOHOHOW YOU WIHIHIHIN!”
Jason’s laugh joined Liam’s, low and triumphant. “Who said anything about winning? This is about legacy, Liam. And mine is unshakable.”
Liam’s voice climbed several octaves as Jason’s hands worked their way up to his underarms. “HAHAHA! FIHIHINE! FINE! YOU’RE THEHEHE GREAHAHAHTEST! THE KIHIHIHING! HAHAHA! PLEASE STAHAHAHAP!”
Jason paused, his fingers hovering over Liam’s torso as he raised an eyebrow. “The king, huh? Now that has a nice ring to it.”
“YEAH!” Liam gasped, his chest heaving. “The king! Long may… he reign! Now untie me… before you hurt yourself… trying to think of another pun.”
Jason chuckled as he stood up. “Oh, Liam, you’re not just funny—you’re almost adorable. But no one out-jokes the king.”
“You mean the jester,” Liam muttered under his breath, earning a sharp poke to the ribs that reignited his laughter. “What was that?” Jason asked, his grin devilish. “You’ve got jokes now, huh? Let’s see how well you deliver punchlines when you’re laughing too hard to breathe.” He lunged, this time digging his fingers mercilessly into Liam’s sides.
“HAHAHA! NOHOHO!” Liam screamed, twisting in his seat as much as the ropes allowed. “HAHAHA THIHIHIS IS A CRIHIHIHIME!”
Jason paused, his fingers hovering. “A crime? You’re calling this a crime? Let me tell you what’s a real crime, Liam—your closer last night. ‘Why did the avocado break up with the toast?’” Jason made a face of mock disgust. “Really? That’s your big finale? What kind of lazy setup was that?”
Liam shot him a glare. “The punchline was solid!”
“Oh yeah?” Jason said, crossing his arms. “Let me guess. ‘Because it wanted to spread its wings?’ Or maybe, ‘It couldn’t handle the pressure?’”
“No,” Liam said, a grin creeping onto his face despite the situation. “Because it realized it was in a jam.”
Jason froze for a beat, staring at him with a mix of horror and disgust. “A jam? Really?”
“It’s wordplay!” Liam said defensively.
Jason sighed, rubbing his temples. “It’s wordplay the way burnt toast is breakfast. Technically, it counts, but no one’s asking for seconds.”
“Oh yeah? Well, you’re one cargo-short purchase away from being a walking Dad Joke.” Liam shot back, grinning.
Jason stepped closer, leaning down until his face was inches from Liam’s. “Oh, you’re really asking for it now.”
"Really?" Liam grinned, raising an eyebrow. "What are you gonna do, tickle me to death like some kind of rejected Muppet villain? That’s not comedy—it’s a fetish!"
Jason froze for a moment, his eyes narrowing. “Fetish? Oh, no, no. This is performance art, my dear Liam. You’re just too uncultured to appreciate it.”
“Performance art?” Liam wheezed, laughing despite himself. “You kidnapped me and tied me to a chair! This isn’t performance art—it’s the plot of a Dateline episode!”
Jason chuckled darkly. “Dateline? Please. They couldn’t afford me. Now, enough chit-chat. Time to finish the show.”
Before Liam could respond, Jason retrieved two feathers and launched a flurry of ticklish attacks, this time using the quill ends on Liam’s bare feet. The younger comedian erupted into hysterical laughter, his head snapping back as he thrashed helplessly against the ropes.
“HAHAHA! OH MY GOD! STAHAHAHAP! YOU’RE CRAHAHAHAZY!” Liam shrieked, tears streaming down his face.
Jason’s grin was maniacal now. “Crazy? No, Liam. Crazy is trying to follow my act at The Laugh Stand Comedy Club with avocado toast jokes! THIS is justifiable revenge!”
“HAHAHA! PLEAHEHEHESE! I’LL GIVE YOU WHAHAHATEVER YOU WAHAHAHANT!” Liam howled, his voice cracking. “JUST STAHAHAHAP!”
Jason paused, his smirk fading into a thoughtful expression as he studied Liam’s tear-streaked face and heaving chest. Without a word, he stepped back and began pacing the room, rubbing his chin as if lost in deep thought. Liam, still bound to the chair and gasping for breath, watched him with wary eyes. The tension hung thick in the air, broken only by the occasional creak of the wooden chair as Liam shifted uneasily.
“Alright,” Jason said finally, snapping his fingers like he’d had an epiphany. “Let’s settle this once and for all.”
Liam groaned. “What now, Jason? You already turned me into a human laugh track.”
Jason ignored him, “If you’re going to stay in my comedy town, you’re going to prove you belong here.”
“I thought I already did that,” Liam muttered, testing the ropes. “You know, with the sold-out shows and standing ovations?”
Jason turned sharply, “Wrong. True comedy is earned. We’re about to have a Joke-Off.”
Liam raised an eyebrow. “A what?”
“You heard me. We go joke for joke. No props, no audience, just raw material. Whoever gets the most laughs stays the king.”
Liam blinked at him, incredulous. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”
Jason leaned in, grinning. “What’s the matter? Scared you’ll lose?”
“No,” Liam shot back, his eyes narrowing. “I’m scared I’ll laugh at how bad your jokes are and give you the win by accident.”
Jason chuckled, dragging a stool in front of Liam and sitting down. “Big talk for a guy who’s still tied to a chair. Alright, let’s see what you’ve got.”
Liam sighed dramatically. “Fine. What do you call a factory that makes okay products?”
Jason tilted his head, suspicious. “What?”
“A satisfactory,” Liam deadpanned.
Jason rolled his eyes. “Weak start. Watch and learn.” He cleared his throat. “What do you call a snowman with a six-pack?”
Liam raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know. What?”
“An ab-dominable snowman!” Jason declared, beaming.
Liam groaned. “That’s so bad it physically hurt me.”
Jason smirked. “Oh, we’re just getting started.”
“I think you’ve already peaked,” Liam quipped. “But fine, here’s one. Why don’t skeletons fight each other?”
Jason sighed, playing along. “Why?”
“They don’t have the guts.”
Jason stared at him for a long moment, then gave a slow, sarcastic clap. “Wow. Let me guess, next you’ll tell me a ghost walks into a bar and orders a ‘boo-rbon.’”
“That’s actually not bad,” Liam admitted, tilting his head slightly. “Too bad you didn’t think of it during your set last night.”
Jason’s smirk faltered for a brief moment before snapping back into place. “Alright, rookie, why did the scarecrow win an award?”
“Because he was outstanding in his field,” Liam replied flatly, not missing a beat. “Everyone knows that one. You might as well ask why the chicken crossed the road.”
Jason’s smirk grew into a sly grin as he leaned in with mock seriousness. “Alright, wise guy. Why did the chicken cross the road?”
Liam sighed, already bracing himself. “I don’t know. Why?”
“To get away from your Avocado Jam bit.”
Liam’s jaw dropped. “Oh, that’s low.”
“Low?” Jason shot back, his grin spreading. “No, your punchlines are low. My jokes are timeless.”
Liam leaned forward slightly, narrowing his eyes. “Why did the toilet paper roll down the hill?”
Jason shrugged, playing along. “To get to the bottom?”
“No,” Liam quipped, his earlier grin returning. “To escape your endless crap jokes!”
Jason raised an eyebrow, his smirk unfaltering. “Cute,” he said, brushing it off before firing back. “Why did the hipster burn his tongue?”
Liam sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t know. Why?”
“Because he drank his coffee before it was cool.”
The room went silent for a moment, both men locking eyes. Then, as if on cue, Liam burst into laughter, struggling to catch his breath. Jason folded his arms smugly, watching with satisfaction as Liam doubled over, trying to compose himself.
“Fine!” Liam wheezed. “You win this round. But you didn’t earn it.”
Jason chuckled, leaning back on his stool. “A win’s a win, rookie. And don’t you forget it.”
Liam smirked. “You know, if you spent this much energy on your act, you might actually get booked again.”
Jason pointed an accusatory finger at him. “You’re walking on thin ice, rookie.”
“Thin ice?” Liam grinned. “That’s funny, because it feels like you’re the one slipping.”
Jason let out a frustrated laugh, shaking his head. “You think you’re so clever.”
“I know I’m clever,” Liam shot back. “You, on the other hand, are one bad Yelp review away from doing birthday parties.”
Jason glared at him. “You’re lucky I’m a reasonable man.”
“Reasonable?” Liam laughed, “You kidnapped me and tickled me half to death! You’re about as reasonable as a drunk raccoon. Next time maybe just send a strongly worded email instead of going full Bond villain.”
Jason raised an eyebrow, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. “A drunk raccoon? Really?” He chuckled despite himself, shaking his head as he gestured toward Liam. “Alright, but before I do let you go, there’s one last thing—”
Liam rolled his eyes. “Let me guess—you want me to applaud you for being the most unhinged person I’ve ever met?”
Jason shook his head, feigning offense. “Unhinged? No. I’m committed. There’s a difference.”
“Right, because nothing screams ‘commitment to comedy’ like kidnapping someone,” Liam deadpanned.
Jason ignored him, folding his arms with mock grandeur. “When I walk into a room, people think, ‘There he is, the King of Comedy.’ When you walk into a room, they think, ‘Hey, who ordered the open mic guy?’”
Liam scoffed. “Open mic guy? You’re one to talk. Your last set bombed so hard FEMA showed up to assess the damage.”
Jason froze, narrowing his eyes. “Oh, that’s rich coming from the guy whose idea of a closer is asking if eggs feel bad about being scrambled. What was that punchline again? ‘They crack under pressure’? Genius.”
“It’s relatable,” Liam shot back. “You wouldn’t understand. Your jokes are so outdated they probably had a MySpace page.”
“MySpace?!” Jason gasped, clutching his chest in mock offense. “At least my humor doesn’t rely on whatever TikTok trend is hot this week.”
“Oh, sure,” Liam retorted. “Because ‘What’s the deal with airline food?’ is cutting-edge social commentary.”
Jason huffed. “Alright, fine! Let’s talk about your act, Mr. Modern. You’ve got all these clever, trendy jokes, but where’s the heart, Liam? Where’s the storytelling?”
“Oh, you want stories?” Liam said, tilting his head. “How about the one where a washed-up comic kidnaps the new guy because he’s insecure about his declining popularity?”
Jason groaned, throwing his hands up. “Kidnaps? It’s not kidnapping! It’s a creative intervention.”
“A creative intervention?” Liam raised an eyebrow. “You tied me to a chair with actual rope, Jason. This isn’t an intervention—it’s the opening scene of a Lifetime movie.”
“Lifetime? Please,” Jason scoffed. “If anything, this is HBO material. Dark comedy. Award-winning stuff.”
Liam couldn’t help but laugh. “Sure. ‘Jason Martin: The Comic Who Tickled His Way to Infamy.’ Sounds like an Emmy winner.”
Jason leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Tickled his way? You’re underestimating me, kid. When I’m done, people won’t just laugh—they’ll cry.”
“That’s... not the compliment you think it is,” Liam said, pulling at his ropes. “If anything, that sounds like the tagline for a horror movie.”
Jason leaned back, clapping his hands together like he’d just solved a puzzle. “You’re right! Comedy is horror! They’re practically the same thing. Both make people uncomfortable, both involve a lot of screaming, and in the end, someone’s always scarred for life.”
“Wow,” Liam said, blinking. “You really missed your calling as a motivational speaker.”
Jason smirked. “Oh, I motivate people all the time. Just last week, I motivated a heckler to leave the room by making him laugh so hard he spilled his beer.”
“Or,” Liam countered, “he left because he couldn’t take another minute of your Crocs material.”
Jason pointed at Liam again, his grin sharp. “You’ve got jokes, kid, but let’s see if you’re laughing after this.”
Jason lunged forward, his fingers digging mercilessly into Liam’s ribs, poking and prodding with precision. The younger comedian burst into uncontrollable laughter, his body jerking wildly against the restraints.
“HAHAHA! OKAY! OKAHAHAY! STAHAHAHAP!” Liam gasped, tears streaming down his face. “THIHIHIS ISN’T EVEHEHEN CLEVER!”
Jason grinned. “Oh, it’s very clever. It’s called physical comedy. You wouldn’t know—you’re too busy being meta.”
“HAHAHA! YOU’RE JUST MAD—HAHAHA—THAT PEOPLE LIHIHIKE MY ACT MOHOHORE! AHAHA! AND NOHOHOW YOU’RE GETTHIHIING—HAHA—FEWER BOOKINGS THAHAHAN A MIHIHIME AT —AHAHAHA—A KARAOKE BAR!” Liam shouted through his laughter.
Jason paused, “Like your act more? Liam, people like easy laughs. It doesn’t mean they respect you.”
“Easy laughs?” Liam gasped, his chest heaving. “You’ve been… milking a Crocs bit… for five years. At this point… they owe you royalties.”
Jason let out a dramatic sigh, “You know, I thought this would be fun. Two comedians, duking it out with words and wit. But you’re just exhausting.”
“Yeah,” Liam panted, grinning weakly. “Imagine how I feel… listening to your set.”
Jason glared at him for a beat, then shook his head. “You’re lucky I don’t have time to break you properly. I’ve got a set tomorrow.”
“Oh, good,” Liam said, smirking. “Maybe you’ll use it to finally retire that Crocs joke.”
Jason chuckled, grabbing a pair of scissors. “You’re funny, Liam. Annoying, but funny. Let’s see if the crowd agrees tomorrow night.”
“Count on it,” Liam said as Jason cut the last rope. “And don’t worry, I’ll save you a seat in the audience.”
He rose slowly, his movements unsteady as he flexed his wrists. Jason leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a faint smirk playing at his lips. The room hung in tense silence, broken only by Liam’s shaky laugh.
“You know,” Liam said, wiping a tear from his cheek, “I’ve done some wild gigs before, but this? This is a career highlight. Being kidnapped and tickled by the ‘King of Comedy.’ Really adds to the résumé.”
Jason’s smirk twitched, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of guilt. “You’ll thank me one day,” he said, his voice quieter now. “A lesson in humility. Every comedian needs one.”
Liam scoffed. “Humility? You tied me to a chair and went full Bond villain because your ego couldn’t handle the competition.”
Jason stepped forward, his grin fading. “It’s not just about competition, Liam. It’s about legacy. About everything I built. You think it’s easy, watching someone new come in and erase you like you never mattered?”
Liam tilted his head, his voice softening. “No, I don’t think it’s easy. But that’s not on me, Jason. Your legacy isn’t about what I do—it’s about what you leave behind. And right now? You’re leaving a mess.”
Jason froze, the words cutting deeper than he’d expected. For the first time, he didn’t have a retort, no quick-witted comeback to deflect the weight of Liam’s words. He glanced at the feather still lying on the table and let out a hollow laugh.
“Maybe you’re right,” Jason muttered. “Maybe I went too far.”
“Maybe?” Liam raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been auditioning for an insanity plea all night.”
Jason smirked despite himself. “You’re lucky you’re funny, rookie.”
“And you’re lucky I don’t press charges,” Liam shot back. “Seriously, Jason, you’ve still got something to give. Stop wasting it trying to take me down.”
Jason nodded slowly, the fight draining from his posture. “Guess it’s time to put the work in again. Earn the laughs.”
Liam stepped toward the door, pausing with his hand on the knob. “You want to stay in the game? Start writing better material. Stop relying on feathers and grudges.”
Jason chuckled softly. “Noted.”
Liam glanced back one last time, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “See you on stage, Jason.”
Jason watched him leave, the door swinging shut with a soft click. He stood there for a moment, staring at the empty space Liam had occupied. Then, with a deep breath, he grabbed a notebook from the table and sat down, pen in hand.
The notebook’s blank page stared back at him, a daunting challenge—but also an opportunity. Jason smiled faintly, the first real smile in weeks, and wrote three words across the top:
The Comeback King.
THE END
