Death by Sarcasm - By Dani Amore Page 0,25

big red hair, thick black glasses and sagging skin.

Mary went over to her. “Excuse me,” Mary said.

“Head shot with credits. Leave it on the table,” the woman said. Her voice raspy and bored.

“Thanks for your obvious interest,” Mary said. “But I’m not looking to get hired.”

“Then go away. You’re interrupting Mr. Jenkins’ hilarious take on airline food,” the woman said, referring to the disheveled comic on stage. “Turns out, the food’s not very good. Imagine that.”

Mary pulled out a chair and sat down next to the woman. “Thanks for the invite,” she said. “Get you another martini or will that affect your lovely personality?”

“Sure,” the woman said. “I’ll take another martini and while I’m drinking it, you can place your lips directly on my buttocks. How’s that?”

“Mmmm, yum, very tempting,” Mary said. “Very tempting.” She waved to the waitress and gestured for a refill on the old lady’s drink.

“My name’s Mary Cooper,” she said. “And I’m looking for a female comic, wears leather pants all the time.”

“What are you, a fur trader?”

Jesus, Mary thought. What was the deal with these old people? Do you just get nastier as you get older? Figured you’d taken all the shit you’d have to take in life?

“Absolutely,” Mary said. “Never met a woman I didn’t like. Until now.”

“I’m Janet Markowitz and you’re a smart ass. I like that. Now go to hell.” She reached for the fresh martini with greed in her eyes. “And thanks for the drink. Now why don’t you go find some lesbian and decide who’s the husband and who’s the wife?”

The old woman took a long, loud slurp from her martini.

“Gosh,” Mary said. “You’re not only kind and charming, you’re also homophobic. You just could not be any more likeable.”

“True,” the woman said. “Bye bye now. Go away.”

“The guy behind the bar said you know everyone in these clubs,” Mary said, ignoring her last directive. “And I’m sick and tired of going into these shitholes meeting the dregs of society. Yourself included. So do you know who the woman comic in the leather pants is? Or are you just going to sit there and drink the booze I bought you and be as absolutely nasty as you can be?”

“Hmm. Are those my only two choices?”

Mary paused to think about it. “Actually, no there is a third choice. But I’m not sure you want to know what that is.” Mary leaned in, let her coat open a little bit. Strong arming an old woman didn’t rank real high on her list of personal achievements. But sometimes, the ends justifies the means, no matter how distasteful it can get.

The old lady’s tired and bleary eyes took in the gun, then came back up to Mary’s face. “Tell you what, Beretta,” the old woman said. “One more of these and I’ll tell you who she is. She’s very attractive. You’d love to get her in the sack, I’m sure,” she said.

“My prayers have been answered,” Mary said and waved to the waitress. Moments later, another martini appeared in front of Ms. Markowitz.

“Her name is Claudine. Claudine Leering. It almost rhymes. She’s cute, but not funny. Not funny at all. Her material is stuff Rita Rudner did ten, fifteen years ago. And did it better.”

“Any idea where she might be tonight?”

“What, am I the goddamned Comedy Club Flyer?”

“You’ve been so helpful, Janet-”

“Actually, I just saw her over at Schticky Fingers,” the woman said. “The club on 14th and Wyoming. Don’t know why I’m telling you. Maybe I just want you to get laid tonight. Improve your personality a little bit. Or maybe I’m hoping that you’ll go away.”

“I could only hope to be the kind, giving person you so clearly are,” Mary said. “Does the Welcome Wagon know about you? Because you’re giving them a run for their money.”

“Welcome Wagon, that’s good,” the old lady said. “Maybe you should quit your job and go into comedy. Lord knows the world doesn’t need another dumbass janitor. That’s what you are, right?” The old woman leaned toward Mary and whispered, “Your clothes give it away, dear.”

“Goodbye Janet,” Mary said, getting up. “It’s been a real pleasure.”

“Don’t forget to mop up before you leave!”

Schticky Fingers was sticky all over. Sticky floor. Sticky air. Sticky walls. Sticky people. Mary felt like she was part of a joke: Lady walks into a bar says, hey, I’m looking for a woman in leather pants.

Luckily, Mary didn’t have to ask anyone about Claudine Leering. Mary spotted her right off. She was