Insecurities

It was a Friday night at open mic and Nicky was about to take the stage. He had a 7 min slot and enough jokes to last an hour and the last comic blew the roof off the place. By this time, his nerves had kicked in, he knew his topic was about insecurities in men, and hoped the audience would take to his racy comments and explicit content. He says a prayer as the announcer takes the microphone from the last act. “The next comic taking the stage, by way of Brooklyn, New York, give a warm welcome for Nicky Russo.”

Nicky takes the stage, “How is everybody doing tonight?” The crowd response with a welcoming cheer letting Nicky know they had been having a good night. “I see some beautiful ladies in the crowd tonight. That is good, I usually see ugly women at my shows,” crowd laughs. “I don’t know why its like I attract ugly women it seems, or big ole’ fat girls. My baby momma fat if you don’t believe me, she so big she can never get on top while we were having sex.” Crowd laughs some more. “I’m serious all I get is missionary,” he hears a woman giggle, “she knows what I’m taking bout” Nicky says pointing to the heavy-set women in the crowd. “I think I ended up with her because of my insecurities as a man. You see you got to understand where I come from to know why I have these insecurities, because usually I’m a pretty confident person. Seeing how I can get on stage in front of complete strangers and make an ass of myself. I come from a large family on both sides. I have 6 brothers, 4 sisters, and I am from an interracial family. My mother is black and my dad is Italian. My insecurities derive deep in my family heritages. On my mom side we had to work for what we have, so she always expected me to go above and beyond on what ever I was doing. On my dad’s side he always spoke of how he had people work for him.” Crowd laughs.

“Another insecurity I had was being black and or Italian with a small dick.” Crowd laughs.” I have never told anybody until now, but its true. I used to always wish for a big dick, until I thought to myself how gay that sounds.” Crowd erupts. “I mean seriously that’s something a 16-year-old virgin girl ask for. So, I changed it, now I just wish my dick was bigger.” The crowd burst into laughter and applauses. “That fixed that mistake.” Nicky laughs himself. “I watch a lot of porn too, so I know my dick is small, anytime I see a guy with a dick around my size I think to myself, I don’t want to watch this shit. Which might be gay too, but I don’t care.” Crowd is hysterical. “You see I watch it so much; I broke down penises into sizes.” Ladies says woohoo in the audiences “Oh you have too huh?” talking to the lady as crowd erupts “You see you have your “Mandingo” which is that 10 to 12 inches or bigger and can’t even fit in the girls mouth type, then it goes down to the “Cock” which is smaller than the “mandingo” girth wise but is still pretty big, then you have the “dicks” which are 7 to 10 inches. Girls like these ones the most. Then there are the 6 inch one, that’s just a “penis.” Crowd is cracking up by now. “Then you have my category the “ding-a-ling.”

More laughter, “that’s when you know it don’t get bigger than 6 inches unless you laying down on your back. I wouldn’t know for sure, but I think a lot of men are in this category. How do I know, I can just tell, we have what I call little dick nigga tendencies. If they sit down on the toilet and don’t wipe their ass, that means he just took a piss sitting down, that’s a little dick nigga. If you see someone at a stale in the bathroom and they use the urinal that comes to the waste Instead of the one that goes all the way down to the ground, that’s a little dick nigga. If your man is barely competing with the Statue of David when he is flaccid, he’s a little dick nigga. That is all I have to say. My last girlfriend had the nerve to ask me. “Are you sure you Italian?” like being black wasn’t enough. I had to tell her “Bitch yes, I’m sure, you don’t feel that breeze in here. Check if the window open.” The audience claps. “They be giving me a hard time I tell you.

I think the first time someone pointed out things that made me seem like I lack confidence or have insecurities was during my very first job with the Italian Mafia,” the crowd ohs,” Yup you heard right, I swear to god my first job was for the mob. I was 14 and one of my dad’s friends ask me would I like to make some money. Of course, my first year in high school I wanted to have a car by 16, so I said yea how much, he said don’t worry about how much. It would be enough. So, he gave me this little black book filled with names and addresses. He said, I need you to take this bag, don’t look it in, don’t open it, don’t lose it, but take this bag to the first address in the book. When you get there give the person whose name is on the page the bag and they will give you another one. You take that one to the second address and when you drop it with the next person, they will give you another bag, and so on and so forth. When you get to the last house, he will give you your money. I looked through the book there was only 3 pages filled out with 10 names I said in my head, boom easy money.” Nicky can tell the crowd is enjoying his stand up by now and he laughed a little as well. In an Italian accent; “He said don’t however give the bag to anyone at an address unless they are the name in this black book, you got it? One last thing, you look a man in the eye when he talking to you son, keep your head up. Fucking moolie! he said, Roger he didn’t get any good genes from you. Roger is my dad’s name.

“But anyways, I take the bag to the first guy. I’ll never forget it. I ride my bike 12 blocks to his house, knock on the door and this Italian man answers. I look in the black book and asked if he was Mike Roberts. He said “who wants to know?” Nicky uses an Italian accent that brings in more laughs and applause. He seemed to recognize the book I got and asked is the bag for him. I said its for Mike Roberts. If he isn’t here, I’ll take it back. “He said yea I’m Mike and when they let a moolignano make runs for us. (crowd laughs a bit) I said I’m Roger’s son. He said, Roger son is black? Hey babe! yelling to his wife, Roger’s son is a moolie. And closed the door. Now I’m shitting bricks because I gave him the bag and didn’t receive one to take to the next address. My bloods pumping after being called a moolie. Which if you didn’t know a moolignano is what pure breed Italians call half black Italians. I didn’t want to knock on his door again but I couldn’t leave without the bag, so I knocked. Almost immediately, he answers the door with another bag in his hand this time bigger. He said take this to Pauly and chop-chop. He goes to work in about an hour and lives on 63rd. I was on 3rd street people.” I had 60 minutes to go 60 blocks with a big ole bag - I didn’t know what was in it, it could have been drugs for all I know. But I didn’t care, I was getting paid. So here I am got to average a block a minute on a bike. Anyway, I get to the second building, sweat pouring down my shirt and he’s walking out as soon as I got to his door. He recognized the black book, sees I have a bag, says “Damn kid, you gonna make me late,” takes the bag, comes out, gives me a backpack. He signals me to walk with him and I’m following him pushing the bike. Now, I’m a shy kid; I’m looking down not thinking about how I might look to this guy. He says, (in a different Italian accent) now they already told you the rules, I don’t need to repeat them?” I said, “yes sir” he goes “who the hell you talking to I’m up here. You moolies supposed to have more confidence than this. He asked me “You Italian?” I looked up, looked him in the eye like the first guy told me to and said “Yes sir.” He said, (Nicky in an accent) “then always keep your head up. A man with his head down is showing signs of weakness, us Italians we ain’t weak. Still to this day the best advice I was ever given and he goes (Nicky in an Italian accent) “Now get to your next house before I break your legs” and he drove off.”

“So, anyway, I get to delivering these packages and it gets dark and I remember the guy before my last delivery gave me a suitcase to take to person number 10. I arrive at this big fancy building in Manhattan, go up to the suite, knock on the door. The person answers. Asks, “who are you looking for?” I say the last name on the list. He opens the door all the way, signals me in, takes the suitcase, opens it up on the counter and boom it was filled with money. There had to be at least one million dollars in the suitcase and in my mind I’m like “Nigga.” Crowd erupts again. “If I knew what was in it I would have skipped town or something. Here I am 14, carrying a million dollars around downtown New York city on bike. I could’ve gotten robbed, stabbed, shot, been getting watched by the police, jumped, any of that. But by the grace of God, I got him his money. When I finished it was 8 o’clock I know I missed dinner and my mom and dad where probably looking for me and everything, but I didn’t care I was like I’m getting paid” He pulled out two stacks from the suitcase. Tossed them to me and said, “this is for you. Show up here Monday, if its alright with your father.” It was 20,000 dollars, most money I’ve ever touched at one time, still to this day.” Crowd laughs. I didn’t even tell my mom and dad I had it. Bought my first car with it when I seen this ad in the paper. Got me a 1967 Shelby GT500 and pulled all the fat bitches in it” Crowd erupts in cheers and laugher “I’m Nicky Russo you guys have been great thanks for having me.” Cheers were heard throughout the place as Nicky returned to the dressing room.