This is funny

The crowd stood about three deep. They were held back by police tape and the cops themselves, some of whom didn’t have any other job but to stand inside the police tape and look at the crowd. There had been a killing done. A strange and brutal one. A woman had choked to death, but plenty of people had seen it. It was murder. A man had come out fo a fruitstand, they said. This was not too busy for a sidewalk in this city, this time of day. The woman had on business casual clothes, a skirt - for certain, and the man was dressed all in a very dark blue. He pulled on a mask suddenly, before he assaulted the woman. People had seen his face but no one could remember now. Funny trick he had there.

Anyway, this is what people were saying. Al had asked a few joes who’d gotten there before him. Al was inveterate rubbernecker. He had done it for years. When there was a crowd, he’d be there, looking. Trying to see something. Trying to get some sort of funny story out of it because Al was a stand up comic, and material is material.

Al was a big, vaguely handsome guy. Early thirties. Football player shoulders and well over six feet tall. Not your typical Lenny Bruce sized comic, this one. He was your cornfed midwest boy. A roustabout.

He hovered around the scene, tried to imagine how a woman could be murdered by choking and then decided he couldn’t imagine it. Didn’t want a mental picture. The day was a little chilly. Al, for himself, had on new blue jeans, a textured blue sweater and a big brown overcoat. He felt a small hand lightly touch his arm.

“Hi there, I’m Sylvi.” A woman said to him. She was the one with the small hand. Sylvi was very small, very mousy, with not very good skin and an awkward smile. A big smile but very awkward. “What’s… what’s your name.” Sylvi had to look almost all the way up to see Al’s big face over his shoulders.

“Al,” he told her.

“Hi, Al, what do you do?” she asked.

“Umm, right now I’m trying to figure out this here murder. I’m watching. A woman’s been killed here.”

“That’s what they say,” she still smiled that awkward smile. She was a hippieish little nightmare to Al. She had on glasses so big that no thoughtful US Forest Ranger would let her in a park with any brush at all. She wore a big, heavy violet dress with a long sleeved off white t-shirt on under it. It looked like the tee shirt said something about yoga. Who cared, right? The dress had little mirrors sewn into it to make it sparkle. “What do you do for a living, Al?”

“I’m a comic. A stand up comic.”

Sylvi put her little hand on her chest as if to say ‘Bless me!’ “That’s so interesting! Wow! A real comic. Do you perform around here?”

“All the time.” Al’s feet still pointed in at the murder. He’d turned his head and shoulders to Sylvi, but he hadn’t moved his whole body. In other words, his attention on her was temporary. His face had a slight sneer.

“Maybe, maybe when you’re done here, if you don’t have to rehearse or anything… maybe we could get, you know, coffee?”

Al looked her up and down. She had tiny little breasts and no hips that he could see. She was terrified, but her Tarot cards must have told her to seize any impulse toward love, or some shit. That’s what he thought. He couldn’t stand it.

He said,

“You know, I came over here to check this out. This murder, you know. Woman’s been killed not ten feet away about about a half-hour ago. Came over cuz I’m a comic. Thought it might be funny. But this shit, Sylvi, this shit with you is funny.”