Ross grabbed the open stubbie of beer and took a long drink. The nerves were starting to creep up on him and the only thing he could think of to ease the knots in his stomach was to ply himself with as much alcohol as possible. He placed the half-empty bottle back on the table beside him and looked into the mirror.

          His ruffled dark hair looked a mess and it didn't matter how many times his ran his fingers through its short spikes it still looked like he'd just got out of bed. The wrinkled shirt and faded jeans that covered his slight body didn't help to make him look more professional either, but he concluded his attire shouldn't draw the audience away from his performance.

          Ross leaned forward and ran his index finger over a couple of laugh lines that were appearing in the pale skin around his eyes. There were models worldwide that would die if such a skin flaw should appear but with Ross, it was just part of the job. He pulled the skin under his eyes to reveal the redness that surrounded his tired hazel eyes. "You've gotta give up the drink man," he breathed as he reached for his beer again. He downed some more of its amber contents and licked his thin lips. His palms had started to sweat and he wiped them on top of his jeans. A quick check of his watch revealed he only had a few minutes left.

          He tore his eyes from his disheveled appearance in the mirror and leaned back against the table. It was unnerving at the best of times to talk in front of a crowd of strangers, it was even more terrifying when you had to stand in front of those strangers and make them laugh.

          Ross knew he was funny it had been apparent for a long time from the witty one liners he had laid on his friends to the improvised banter with others and his ability to turn a usually boring anecdote into a memorable party moment. Still, when he'd fronted up at an amateur night over a year ago he hadn't expected his inane perspectives of the world to have people literally rolling in the aisles.

          Ross's thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the dressing room door. "Come in," he called. The door opened and his spirits lifted as Gina, his small, blonde haired girlfriend appeared.
          "You're on in less than five minutes and you look like you'd been slapped with a wet fish," she remarked as she walked across the room to join him.
          "What? No, I'm just edgy," Ross replied as Gina wrapped his arms around his waist, her body pressing against his.
          "What have you got to be edgy about? The people out there love you," Gina soothed, her rosebud lips parting to smile.
          "I don't know, what if all my jokes fall flat? Or I forget the punch line or my pants split?"
          "Either way the audience will still laugh, especially if you split your pants," Gina giggled, her deep blue eyes twinkling.
          "Gee thanks honey," Ross jeered before he brushed his lips against hers.
          "Ross, you nearly ready?" a voice announced from the other side of the door. Ross let out a nervous breath.
          "Almost," he called back and reached for his beer again.
          "Are you going to come home drunk again?" Gina asked, standing back and crossing her arms.
          "Yes, if I can help it," Ross replied with a coy smile. "Oh come on, it's only once a week," he added giving her doe eyes.
          Gina rolled her eyes, "You're lucky I love you."
          "Nah, you just want me for my body," Ross smirked and finished his beer. "Wish me luck then."
          "Good luck," Gina nodded.
          "How heartfelt," Ross jeered, before she stepped forward and wrapped him in a hug.
          "Ross!" the voice on the other side of the door called a little more impatiently. "You were supposed to be on two minutes ago," scowled an annoyed comedy club worker as the crowd started to chant Ross's name.
          "I'm being fashionably late," Ross countered with a wry smile and bounded out onto the small stage.