Vivienne’s eyes flicked back and forth from the performer onstage to her grumpy complaining audience member. At the sound of being chewed out by not one but two women at this point – rather elegantly, Vivienne liked to think – the man appeared to be growing tenser by the second, his irritation showing through in his rapidly reddening face. Could that possibly even be …embarrassment? Vivienne wondered, not without glee.
“No, perhaps that doesn’t fit you, dear,” she said, looking at the man with the wide smile of a consummate performer soaking in the rapt attention of those watching, “What do yo think?” she called to the woman onstage with a smile. “Fuchsia might be quite lovely on this gentleman. don’t you think? It’s rather good for those who like being the center of attention, you see.”
As Vivienne sat back slightly, satisfied enough with herself to look around at her fellow audience members, it appeared to her that they might be warming up a little. No one looked bored in the least now, and a few were even smiling.
The heckler, though, appeared to be coming apart in front of everyone’s very eyes. Was that a bulging vein, even? “…Aww …!” he repeated, more growling than speaking, his hands clenching and un-clenching. “Aww …You–!” he finally burst out, turning and making his exit with deafening stomping noises as we went.
How delightful! Vivienne thought to herself, shooting a conspiratorial glance at the comedian. Nothing like a good public shaming to liven up the night, eh?
The poor idiot that had deigned to heckle Queenie was now reminiscent of an oversized tomato. The poor dears masculinity seemed rather fragile, as the women’s jabs about which lipstick color would suit his complexion and mustache best seemed to slowly push the poor bastard closer to detonating.
“Fuschia! Now that would be his color! Something bright and beautiful that attracts attention, no? Perfect for someone who thinks its a good idea to call out in the middle of a show to tell the comedienne that she isn’t funny. The color and the attitude just screams ‘make me the butt of your next joke! I’m begging you!’”
And finally, the ticking time bomb of the man’s ego finally exploded. She couldn’t help but laugh as the man sputtered, storming away. “Well, folks. I believe our lovely friend took up the rest of my time for the evening. Thank you so much for your time, and enjoy the rest of your night.”
As she walked off the stage, she waved to the bartender, gesturing to the woman who had helped her out. She held up two fingers, for two drinks, as she walked up to the bar.
