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The anatomy of a lame story
As a case study, let’s examine an oft-told yawner from my archives: “The Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup." One day my sixth-grade classmate Brian Killen stole a guy’s Reese’s cup during lunch at the cafeteria. When confronted, Killen hurriedly tossed it down the table. It soared 10 feet down the table and landed perfectly in the hands of an oblivious Matt Abshire, who was sitting with his hands semi-clasped in front of his face, as if in prayer. Abshire’s face was priceless — the look of a man who’d implored the heavens for a miracle and got his wish. This story never works. These are the telltale signs that my story is a dud: The Denial: A failed anecdote begins with poor selection. No matter how hilarious the Reese’s scene is in my memory, it will never, ever be funny when retold, regardless of context. But I’m simply incapable of discarding this story into the pile of happy-but-unshareable memories where it belongs. The Shoehorn: If you have to explain how your story relates to your current conversation, you’ve already bombed. The Reese’s story makes a cameo when the discussion turns to miracles, cafeteria food or even pranks, and will always begin with an apologetic, mumbled preface: “Yeah, so there was this one time — sorry, your story about hiding your friend’s backpack reminded me — once my friend had a Reese’s...” The Speed Bumps: Like most grandparents, I am unable to proceed with a story until I’ve got all my facts properly remembered, regardless of relevance. “So Michael Wood grabbed the Reese’s cup — hold it, Michael wasn’t there, it couldn’t have been him. Who was it again? Was it Greg?” The Misfire: A good audience can sense when a story is going nowhere. Their eyes stay engaged, watching intently, but beneath that plastic gaze they’re silently unholstering their polite laughs and cocking the hammer, ready to bale you out at a moment’s notice. This means they’re often a little too ready for the punchline and laugh early. “So then Patrick totally swiped the Reese’s out of his lunchbag —” “Ha, that’s wild, man!” “No wait, it gets better!” The Damage Control: It’s an awful moment when storyteller and audience alike realize: “That was it?” In case the listeners are unsure how they should react to the hilarious Reese’s occurrence, I’ll give them a little nudge: “It was crazy!” or “It was hilarious!” At this point, I’d be wise to follow the advice of my sister Amy — a hit-and-miss storyteller herself — who likes to keep an emergency story ending at the ready for when a story gets away from her: “And then I found 20 dollars!” |
