The sign outside the "Lagos Laugh club" was flickering. Inside, the air conditioner an old one, that sounded like a generator was working overtime to cool an empty room. Chidi stood behind the curtain, in the club adjusting his tie for the tenth time. He could hear the muffled sound of the traffic on Ikorodu Road, even at night and the distant shout of a gala seller, but he couldn’t hear the murmur of a crowd. "Guy, make we just call am a day(Lets just call it a day/night)," Tunde, the club manager, said, leaning against the brick wall. He checked his watch. "It’s 11:15 PM. Chidi looked at the stack of flyers on the stool. He had spent three months’ salary on this "One Man Special." He’d rehearsed his jokes in front of his bathroom mirror time and time again "Check the gate again, Tunde. Just once more." Tunde sighed, walked to the front, and returned a minute later, looking baffled. "Omo, someone actually bought a ticket online. And he’s sitting in the front row." "Only One person?" Chidi whispered. "Just one. A man in a brown suit. He looks like he’s waiting for a court sitting, not a comedy show." Chidi pundered. He had a choice, refund the 5,000 Naira and go home to eat cold jollof rice in shame, or perform for a single human being. He thought about the greats. He thought about the motivational speeches he’d heard from all the comedy greats, about how they all started with similar experiences and he got the ginger he needed. The lights dimmed. A singular light hit the stage and dropped on chidi alone There, in the center of sixty empty chairs, sat an elderly man. He was as still as a statue, his hands folded He didn't clap. He just watched. "Good evening, Lagos!" Chidi shouted into the microphone. The man didn't crack a smile. Chidi plunged into his set. He told jokes upon jokes For twenty minutes, it was silence. Suddenly, a sound broke. The man in the suit was shaking with a chesty roar of laughter. "Heh! Chidi!" the man shouted, wiping his eyes. "The Danfo part of the joke, it’s true! That is exactly how they stole my left shoe in 1984!" The weight of the empty room vanished. The failed ticket sales didn't matter. Chidi performed for another twenty minutes, specifically tailoring his jokes to "the old days" of Lagos. It was the best set of his life. When it was over, the man took a very bourgeois bow and left. Tunde came out , looking uncharacteristically quiet. "That was... something else, Chidi." "Yeah," Chidi said, wiping his brow with his tie. "It was a sold-out show, Tunde. The only person who mattered showed up."
PS- THE IMAGES ARE A.I