“It’s a poor performer who blames their audience,” Lisette chided.
“That applies in the bedroom, too, Mark,” Paul added.
“Alright, alright.” Mark waved his hand wearily.
“Excuse me, I’m a tough New York critic,” I replied. “You guys better be good because my standards are extremely high.”
“We’re not afraid,” Paul replied. “Bring on your judgment, Moriarity.” He grinned again as the next song began, and I felt my stomach drop.
Oh, no, I thought to myself.I like him, and I’m about to watch him do improv. At least my crush will die a quick death.
I was probably more nervous than anyone else in the room as Lachlan ended his set. Paul got up, hopped on stage, clapped his hands together, and thanked Lachlan for making everyone cry, which got a few chuckles from the room. He quickly introduced their group of three as Lisette bounded onstage and Mark stomped after her. Then Paul asked for stories from the audience.
“Can someone tell us how you met your best friend?” Paul began.
“Middle school,” someone shouted.
“We were in jail together,” somebody else said.
Paul paused. “What was your crime?”
“Drunk driving.”
“Hmm, what else?”
“We worked together,” someone cried.
“Where’d you work?” Paul asked the last person.
“Tim Horton’s.”
“Tim Horton’s,” Paul said. He glanced at the group. “We’re doing it. Okay, and now we need a movie genre.”
“Action!”
“Romantic comedy.”
“Science fiction.”
“Heist,” I called out.
Paul smiled at me. “Heist movie. I met my best friend at Tim Hortons, the heist movie.”
Lisette jumped onto stage and began to act out that she was making fries.
“We need more fries,” she began, calling out behind her. “We’re running low, and the lunch rush is coming.”
Mark walked onto stage. “There are no fries,” he said. “We’re out.”
It would be impossible to sum up the freeform ridiculousness of the next few minutes: how Lisette and Mark planned a heisttogether to steal potatoes from the local supermarket, how Paul stepped in as the detective on their trail, complete with some 1940s-style film noir narration, how Lisette imitated a scene fromMission Impossiblein her theft, arms swinging out wildly as she leaned her whole body over a stool, how at the end, in jail, Mark and Lisette agreed that they were now best friends. They might be in prison forever, but the important thing was the journey. Even the audience member who had met their best friend in jail got a little callback.
I had been worried that I would be embarrassed the whole time, but I wasn’t, because it turned out that Lisette is very, very funny. Watching her up there, I thought about how she’d spent ten years living with an abusive guy, suppressing everything about herself, and now she was being completely silly, open, willing to commit to everything with absolute dedication. It was impossible to be embarrassed for someone with that level of commitment. Everyone was laughing when she pulled her Tom-Cruise-on-a-wire impersonation, or when she tried to sweet-talk the detective by offering him free poutine for life. Paul was also funny, but in a more cerebral way, with the eye of a storyteller shaping the direction of the tale. He was the one who threw in movie references, literary jokes, committed reactions to whatever Lisette was doing. And Mark was the deadpan pessimist, ready to go dark whenever required.
After about twenty-five minutes and three sketches, they came back to the table and sat down. Paul caught my eye as he took a seat. He could tell I was impressed, so I tried to look grumpy but couldn’t quite manage it.
“So what’s the New York critic say?” he asked.
“You’ll know when I write about it in theTimestomorrow.”
