Victor and Albert meet.
Victor Wilde made his way to a seat. Settling in, he waited for the vaudeville acts to commence. Apropos of nothing, he turned to left side neighbor and introduced himself.
“Good evening, my name is Victor Wilde,” he said, holding out his hand to be shaken.
“Albert Hugo, charmed I’m sure,” the dandy next to him said as he shook the offered hand.
“Do you come to see vaudeville often?”
“This is my first time,” Victor admitted.
“You’re going to love it! I have a fondness for the comedians!” Albert replied.
Just then, the curtains rose and the show began. Victor heard his neighbor guffawing, giggling and roaring with laughter. When the interval came, Albert asked Victor to join him in refreshments. With a nod, he agreed.
While they sipped their beer, Albert said:
“I didn’t hear you laughing. Something wrong?”
“I don’t think it’s funny, any of it!”
“Not funny? You must a real sourpuss. Where’s your sense of humor?”
“Oh, I have one, it’s just more sophisticated than that low-brow stuff on the stage.”
“Low-brow? Are you insulting me?” Albert said hotly.
Before Victor could deny insult, Albert slapped him with a glove.
“Pistols at dawn tomorrow,” he gritted.
They both left in a huff.
The next morning, Albert showed up with matched pistols. Victor chose one first. They paced off, and their seconds said in unison:
“Ready? Aim. Fire!”
The two men shot at the same time. A flag printed with the word ‘Bang’ came out of the muzzle of each pistol. Albert began to laugh, holding his stomach in his mirth.
Victor incensed, stalked over to him. He glared at his opponent for long seconds. Then his face split with a grin.
“Now, that’s funny!” he admitted with a chuckle.