"I'm calling her."
It was Saturday night at Hyena's in Fort Worth, and Sean Kent, the comic, had commandeered the cell phone of a middle-aged woman who made the mistake of answering her daughter's call during his show. After a string of text messages detailing Kat's conception (one incarnation involved rape, because rape jokes are apparently mandatory now, and another involved a gay man), the phone rang. Kat, the daughter, was calling back.
Kent didn't answer, but then he called back. As the phone rang on speaker, Kent held the mic to the iPhone.
Kat answered. She shouldn't have. Kent told her, in his best middle-aged female voice, she was conceived by a midget gang rape. "I don't know who your father is. I just assumed all the midget sperm combined to make a normal-sized baby," he said. All we could hear was undecipherable screaming. "Take that dick outta your mouth right now, young lady!" Kat hung up. The audience lost it.
Kent appeals to all ages, but he's not afraid to rip on 'em on stage -- he jumps from young people who don't know their phones can make calls, to old, racist people who need to die already. Clearly he doesn't give a shit. He makes this clear when he says onstage, "I don't give a shit."
Throughout the night, I heard Oh my God! several times, screamed into the dimly lit club, followed by crazy laughter. "This has been a weird show," he said toward the end of his act.
After the show, Kent stood at the back of the club with a makeshift merch counter, selling T-shirts, CDs of his latest show, Waiting for the Rapture, and bumper stickers. One T-shirt featured the Sean Kent evolution of man -- from monkey to Star Wars-fat shopper in a Walmart scooter, whom he will cow-tip one day. That's a promise.
The bumper stickers were especially popular.
HONK IF YOU LOVE JESUS
Text While Driving If You Want To Meet Him
He gave Kat's mom some free bumper stickers.
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