Opening Act
Alicia stood just behind the curtain, adjusting her flannel. Shaking any last jitters out as the DJ lowered the volume of the music. The old treated wood under her feet bent with each adjustment. She let out one last long breath and started to lightly jog in place.
“Alrighty beautiful people of Des Moines, put your hands together for Alicia Wright!”
She jogged out onto stage; it felt homey. The venue fit around two thousand people, it felt intimate. The main stage felt more firm under her feet as the wax reflected the light from the rafters. The applause was uproarious. Alicia thought that it was a bit much for someone at her level. As she got more center stage, the light blinded her, and she leaned against the provided stool to steady herself. The microphone stand was just beside it.
“Good Evening!” She said into the microphone, and the noise died down. “Now, I know no one is here to see me. I’m just the opener to make you crave the headline more.” There were a couple of claps. “Well, good news, I only have one story. Woah!” She took the mic off the stand. Thankful this one was wireless, she had almost tripped herself at the last stop. “No multiple segments; this rewards people who are paying attention. Alright!” The crowd roared back.
“Okay, this tour has been life-changing. It’s been great going from city to city. This country is beautiful, and Des Moines at sunset is something else.” The crowd cheered. “Gorgeous place, everywhere. And the people are generally nice. Downside, I’m in the middle of a divorce.” The crowd booed. “And as you could tell from my backwards baseball cap and flannel... yes, it’s a woman. Shanice. Sha-neece with the nice ass.” She whistled and held one hand out in front in a cupping motion. “First thing I noticed. Studs are also dogs,” she cupped her hands around the mic and barked a few times deeply. “Okay, let me stop… unlike that ass!” Alicia mimed smacking ass as she thrust her hips forward.
“I think that might be the worst part of getting divorced. Being blindsided.” She paused. “It’s some bullshit.” She rolled her lips over the start of the word. “Here we are, a fucking house, two cars, and a $5,000 pure-bred ugly-ass bull terrier. Blue fur because every other coat is u-guh-ly. According to her, of course.” She could see that damn dog, face more wrinkles than dog. “I would be happy with a free bitch from the pound.” They laughed and clapped. “Thank you, because why would I spend 5 bands on a dog that’s gonna need a rhinoplasty? Fucking dog sounding like one of the planet people from that fat show on TLC. The one where they bully them to lose weight, and they break the shower.” She walked across the stage and paused with her hand on her hip. “Really, it's like they haven’t used that bitch before. Fucking pulling the curtains down,” she mimicked pulling on something, “and falling into the tub crying.” She fell to her knees. “Oh, no. This is my first time doing this!” She fake-cries before she chuckles and stands up. “My favorite part is the Indian Man, their doctor. His whole job is to look at them with disappointment. 600 lbs life, that’s the show!” She snapped her fingers. “Love it! Love delusional people, because bitch you did not gain all that weight drinking water and eating salads.” She sighed, “Fucking shame.”
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