“’Ello ’ello, ev’ryone! I’m Muu, one of the Couple of Corpses, an’ I’ve been dead fer longer ’n I was ever alive!”
“And I’m Rosalie—just had my two hundredth deathiversary the other day, over here! I’ve gotta say, though, I’m taking a nice, close look at all of you out in the audience, and…”
And what? This is a pretty long pause.
“…aren’t you all a little too lively out there?”
“Nah, we’re just too deathly up ’ere!”
Muu gave Rosalie a comically exaggerated slap upside the head.
Okay, I think I see what sort of act this is going to be… I can’t let myself miss a moment of my family’s performances, though, so I’d better pay attention!
“So y’know, earlier today, a ghost friend of mine came to ask for some advice.”
“Oh? What about? I’ve been dead fer a right age, eh? I’ll have that problem worked out ’n no time flat!”
“Apparently, their family’s started feuding over their inheritance, and they want to find a peaceful, legal resolution. They asked if I could introduce them to a good lawyer ghost.”
“I can’t help wiv that! That’s a specialist problem for a specialist ghost to solve, innit?!”
All of a sudden, it feels like I’m watching a really boilerplate pair comedy sketch from back in Japan…
“Anyway, it sounds like they need to get things settled quick, before it all gets even worse.”
“Sure, but why? Not like your ghost friend put a curse on ’em, right? Why the big ’assle?”
“Well, the problem’s that their family gathered up in a secluded manor to sort out the will, got snowed in, and now three of them have died under mysterious circumstances. All in one day.”
“That’s a bit bigger’n an inheritance dispute! And why’d they group up in a place that just screams ‘murder house,’ anyway? Who’d go to a secluded manor in a snowstorm?!”
“And now it sounds like they’re blaming the serial murders on a curse from a malevolent spirit.”
“Talk about jumpin’ to conclusions! I bet the actual spirit watchin’ over ’em’s mad as ’ell! Whenever a crime like that crops up, it’s always ’cause some nut with a pulse is makin’ it look like a ghost curse! It’s never actually a real spirit!”
“Right, and that’s why my ghost friend wants to resolve the inheritance dispute as soon as possible.”
“’Ate to say it, but if three of ’em already died, your friend’s got bigger problems! They’re playin’ a diff’rent game now! Murder in an isolated manor means if ya get out alive, ya win!”
“Well, at the rate things are going, everyone who could inherit my friend’s estate will be dead before it even gets split up. How do you think they can resolve the issue peacefully?”
“That ship’s sailed! Sailed an’ sunk!”
“It’d be a shame if this caused a permanent rift in the family, wouldn’t it?”
“This stopped bein’ a rift ages ago! Now they’d better be workin’ together if they wanna live!”
“So who do you think the killer is?”
“This conversation’s gone off the rails!”
How to put this…? It sure feels like I’ve seen this act somewhere before!
I hadn’t, to be clear—this was definitely the first time I’d heard their material—but it just felt so weirdly safe and familiar, I almost could’ve sworn I’d heard it a million times already.
In any case, A Couple of Corpses carried on in much the same manner, and ended their set without incident.
Hmm… They put on a solid, stable performance all around, but I don’t think that’s going to be good enough to win them first place.
Pecora was asked to give a comment on behalf of the judges, and said, “It really is tough being up first, isn’t it?” That struck me as a tactful way of saying the act hadn’t ranked highly in her book, and the look on her face supported that conclusion.
I guess playing it safe and staying by the book means you’re doomed to run up against a wall eventually. I wonder how this is going to turn out…? Also, I wonder who’s up next?
Just then, the announcer’s voice rang out again. “Next up, we have a solo performer: Fighsly!”
Another familiar face!
Fighsly strode confidently into view. She looked the part, anyway—something about the way she was carrying herself really made her seem like a proper stand-up comedian.
“Hey, everyone! I’m Fighsly…,” Fighsly said as she walked to the center of the stage. “And these are my graceful, extra-toned muscles!” she added as she struck a bizarre pose.
“Now then—today, I’d like to sing to you a song I think you all know very well: ‘The Ode to Muscles!’”
Can’t say I’ve ever heard of it.
“Muscles never let you down, muscles are your friend! Muscles and money never let you down, muscles and money are your friends! Money never lets you down, money is your friend! ”
More like the “Ode to Money,” at this point!
“People always let you down, people disappoint! People are selfish misers who’ll backstab you for a buck! ”
Now that’s a wild turn for this song to take!
“But money never lets you down, money is your friend! If people let you down for money, the money’s not to blame! ”
This song is the worst! Talk about depressing!
“Muscles are the best! Now, I’m not the sort of martial artist who’s all about bulking up, when all’s said and done, but that’s why I know that even people with no muscles at all can learn to fight with the best of ’em! If you want in on that, Fighsly’s training gym is always looking for new students! Thanks, and see you there!”
With that, Fighsly—who, by the way, had kept striking weird body-builder poses all throughout her money-glorifying song—stepped off the stage.
Was that act okay on a basic level…?
It certainly didn’t seem like the sort of performance the owner of a training gym would want to put on. She did get a modest but respectful number of laughs in the end, though, so what do I know, I guess… Or so I thought, until the announcer returned to the stage.
“Pardon me—just to clarify, that was an advertisement, not an act! No need to include it in your evaluations.”
So even the ads are comedy sketches?! I have a feeling this is going to be one chaotic event…
The next few groups were made up of demons I’d never heard of before. Some of them did skits and sketches, while others put on what I could only describe as street performances. The contest operated off an anything-goes principle, apparently, though I didn’t get the sense that the street performers got very high scores. The reason for that was obvious: Street performances were all about showing off your skills, not getting people to laugh.
Eventually, Sandra actually ended up nodding off for a moment, jolting awake, and letting out a big yawn. “Staying focused on all these performances is so tiring,” she grumbled.
It looked like we were reaching the limits of her ability to focus—no surprise, considering she was still a kid. It really did seem like acts that would engage the audience and get us to laugh had a distinct advantage, in that respect. Even I could feel my ability to concentrate slipping away from me, little by little. As best as I could tell, we were somewhere around the middle or the latter half of the contest, and part of me wished I could get up and wash my face with cold water just to make sure I stayed awake.
I sat bolt upright and was wide awake in a second, however, when I heard the announcer say, “Next up, we have a pair called the Slimes!”
Falfa and Shalsha stepped onto the stage. They seemed really confident, somehow, and for a moment I saw them as a pair of performers who’d won their way into the finals, rather than as the daughters I was so proud of.
No time for commentary now, though! I have to give them my full attention!
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