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    Comedy Is Easy, Love Is Hard
    Comedy Is Easy, Love Is Hard
    Comedy Is Easy, Love Is Hard

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    Ebook135 pages1 hour

    Comedy Is Easy, Love Is Hard

    By Riley Smith

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    About this ebook

    A pretentious dramatic actress goes head-to-head in a "life swap" style challenge with a devil-may-care rakish comedian in Los Angeles. They've challenged each other to land a role in each other's respective disciplines, comedy and drama. The bet starts small (a cup of coffee) but as they get to know each other, they raise the stakes more and more.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBryant Street Shorts
    Release dateJul 26, 2022
    ISBN9781094421629
    Author

    Riley Smith

    N/A

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      Book preview

      Comedy Is Easy, Love Is Hard - Riley Smith

      Prologue: Mina

      Twenty years ago...

      She stared at her face in the mirror, relishing the aggressive play of bright lights on her face. The arts department at her high school had only put in these dressing room mirrors this semester, but Miley was loving it.

      It made her feel like Mae West or Bette Davis, especially with her costume. Her ostrich-plume boa and black faux fur jacket contrasted wonderfully with the bright red lipstick her mother would never have allowed her to wear on any other day. But when you were in the theater about to go onstage, everything you dreamed of was allowed.

      It didn’t matter that the synthetic fur was scratchy and giving her a rash, or that the boa made her sneeze so much she’d had to take an antihistamine before the show. She gave none of that a second thought.

      Because she was about to go onstage and deliver her monologue. With her words, she would pull people from their humdrum daily life and throw them into something altogether wonderful. She would show them the heights of human emotion, the depths of despair, and together they would feel more than they ever had in their lives.

      She was as positive that this was going to happen as any fifteen-year-old is about anything. She’d spent hours watching dramatic performances so she could embody this role perfectly.

      Though fifteen, she was small for her age. Most people thought she looked twelve. Her tiny face was nearly covered by the fur boa.

      But that’s not what she saw. No, when Miley looked in the mirror, she saw only the next starlet in a long line of heroines. She was ready to take up their mantle.

      She was playing an evil, greedy older woman. She was the aunt of the play’s protagonist, but it didn’t bother her that she wasn’t technically the main character. She knew the best actresses played villainesses at some point, and figured it was good practice.

      It would be her first time in a non-chorus role. As a mere freshman, she felt she’d been entrusted with a great duty to her theater and her director, a glorious burden usually reserved for upperclassmen, or at least sophomores. The director hadn’t disabused her of the notion, although the truth was that the department had had eight people audition for eight roles, and if they didn’t put on some kind of show, their funding would probably be cut even more when the next budgetary review rolled around.

      Miley rolled her opening lines around, enjoying how enunciating made her red lips move in the mirror. She hesitated when she got to the middle of the monologue. Would she forget it when the time came?

      The nerves were shaking her enjoyment of the moment a bit when the door to the dressing room slammed open and Kyle, who was playing the male lead, bounced into the room.

      Kyle was cute. All the girls agreed, and Miley had a hard time disagreeing. She did, however, believe he was immensely annoying.

      He walked up and grabbed her boa. How can you stand to wear this thing? It smells rank.

      She yanked it out of his hands and smoothed down the feathers where he’d disturbed them. The audience can’t smell it. All that matters is how it looks.

      He shrugged. She couldn’t help but admit he looked charming in the vintage-style vest he was wearing, with white a button-down and a pocket watch to boot. His hair was slicked back, and he looked like he could be the teen hero of a western.

      She looked back to the mirror and tried to focus on her lines again. What was the middle part? How did it start?

      She tried saying her opening lines again to prompt herself. Kyle appeared in the mirror behind her.

      What part is that? Can you run lines with me?

      No, Kyle, I’m practicing my opening monologue. You and I don’t have any scenes together. I don’t have time to run lines with you.

      In the mirror, she saw him begin to rummage around in a closet behind them.

      What are you doing? she snapped.

      Bent over, with his skinny arms deep inside a box of props, he said, I’m bored. Everybody else is onstage. I’m going to see if they have anything cool in here.

      She turned in her chair. Don’t mess with any of that! she told him. There’s a very particular organizational system in place.

      She didn’t say that she’d designed and implemented said organizational system. Regardless, he didn’t seem to care; he ignored her and kept throwing things out of the box.

      She got up from her seat. Kyle! Stop it! Seriously! You’re messing everything up.

      She didn’t have time for this! Her debut was only minutes away.

      Kyle didn’t care. He laughed, and said, You’re taking this way too seriously.

      Too seriously? Was Vivien Leigh taking things too seriously when she won the Academy Award for Best Actress for Gone With the Wind? Of course not!

      Miley demanded, How did you even get this role anyway?

      Kyle shrugged. Not enough guys auditioned. Cara had to play the old guy doctor.

      Miley frowned. It’s just gender blind casting.

      He wasn’t listening. He picked up the box of props, turned it over, and dumped it out completely.

      Miley screamed. Kyle! Put it back!

      He looked at her in shock, surprised that she’d screeched at him. The door to the dressing room slammed open again but this time their director stood there.

      The theater teacher said sternly, Miley, you’re supposed to be in the wings waiting for your cue, not playing around in here distracting Kyle.

      But I…. Miley had learned at home that excuses only made things worse. I’m sorry. I’ll go there right now.

      With her head hung low, Miley followed her teacher and tried not to think about the havoc that Kyle had wrought in her carefully organized closet. Just offstage, she listened carefully to see where they were in the play.

      They were almost at her entrance! She said a quick prayer of thanks that the director had been paying attention and gotten Miley. Kyle’s nonsense had managed to distract her, but the mark of a professional was bouncing back when you lost focus.

      Her cue arrived. Miley made her entrance, trying to project a sense of classic foreboding and elegant villainy. She did this by widening her eyes, lifting her chin, and taking large, slow, steps across the stage.

      She began her monologue. It came out smoothly enough, although she stuttered a little at first; she made up for it by sticking her chin up even higher.

      The audience was silent. She assumed she was frightening them with her diabolical performance, although she would have liked to hear a gasp or two.

      She was thinking so much about the audience’s lack of reaction that when she arrived at the dreaded middle of her monologue… she froze.

      What were those lines? What were they? She’d been trying to practice them, but then Kyle had interrupted, and now the bright stage lights and the silhouetted forms of the audience were emptying her mind of everything but fear.

      She paused. For far too long, she didn’t say anything. The other actors onstage stared at her.

      One of the other actors said, probably thinking they were helping, Don’t you have more to say?

      She snapped, I’m thinking.

      Then the audience reacted. Her quick snap caused them to erupt into laughter.

      The laughs were uproarious. The formerly silent audience was enjoying a good guffaw, all at her expense.

      She’d expected to stun them with her performance. Instead, they were laughing at her. She remembered that somewhere in that laughing audience sat her mother and father, watching her carefully, waiting to see if she had the talent to justify paying for private lessons.

      Unable to hold back, her face screwed up into an angry frown. She stamped her feet and shouted, It’s not funny!

      But that only made it worse. The sight of her tiny form stomping and demanding things while wearing clothes much too big for her was too funny. The audience couldn’t stop.

      She felt tears brewing. She remembered her last line. She skipped ahead to it, delivered it in a rush, and ran offstage.

      She didn’t stop running until she was in a bathroom stall, locked away in privacy. Then she let the tears fall.

      Imagining she was screaming to the heavens, she sobbed, and under her breath made a solemn vow: No one would ever laugh at her again.

      1

      Nate

      Modern day...

      It wasn’t a particularly impressive party, but Nate was still having a good time. After all, he didn’t need much: just people to talk to and beer to drink. He wasn’t even picky about the beer, unlike many of his Los Angeles friends.

      One of the picky guys, holding a flask of whiskey he’d brought himself, wandered up to where Nate was waiting for his turn in the restroom. It was a house party in an apartment, so the girls were causing a crazy long line for the one bathroom. He thought about asking to cut in line, just for a quick pee, but knew from experience that never ended well for the guy who asked.

      His friend held out the flask and asked, You want some, man? I can’t drink that Bud Light shit. It tastes like carbonated piss.

      And whiskey tastes like old leather dipped in kerosene. No thanks, man.

      The guy squinted. Old leather dipped in kerosene? That’s a bitching image. You mind if I use that?

      Use it for what, Ryan?

      My microbrewery. I told you, me and Paul are putting one together.

      Yeah, man, you can use it. Just, you know, send me a royalty check once in a while. Five dollars will do it.

      Ryan smirked. He chuckled a bit. You’re pretty calm, man.

      Nate hopped a bit on one leg, watching the line to the

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