Prehistoric Comedy

I was at the gym across the street from the Chelsea, the New York Sports Club.  The locker room was almost empty, which was odd, but I suppose that’s because it was early on a Sunday morning.  A fit and trim, rather bulked-up young man strolled past me into the shower room, half yelling, half singing at the top of his lungs: “La la la, banana peels and cream pies, the ancient times of comedy, prehistoric comedy, slipping on banana peels and pies in the face.”  He kept it up while he was in the shower.  I could hear him singing the whole time I was getting dressed.

            Finally, somebody else called out, “Would you mind being quiet?  I’m trying to shower in peace.”

            “I’m like this because I was shy when I was a child,” the loud guy yelled.  “I was late talking, not until I was two years old.  Even after that I never used to say anything, and my parents were worried there was something wrong with me.”

            “They oughta be worried that there’s something wrong with you now,” the other guy said. (Ed Hamilton)