I Am Overpowered And A Comedian In Another World-Chapter 80: I Am Not Okay. And That’s a Problem for You.

Dead.

They were dead.

Their voices and laughs still echoed in my ears and I can’t believe I won’t be able to hear them again.

They died just in front of me.

I couldn’t do anything to save them.

No emotions erupted in my heart and no tears came in my eyes.

The shock is sudden, it’s one of those things that hits when you are alone.

"Brotherr!!"

Sophia cried out loud.

"Why didn’t you save him? You said you would save him! Why didn’t you save my brother, Hero king!?"

Her screams cut deep, deeper than any blade.

And her questions? They hit right where it hurts.

The people who were joking were silent now. The Alien King died. The strongest Hero died.

And not just normal death, their heads were popped by Malthus. As if he was opening a Can.

I wasn’t angry.

But I was feeling something else entirely.

It’s something I haven’t felt in a while.

I only felt it on Earth after my grandma had died.

I chose comedy to fulfil my grandma’s dream but that wasn’t the only reason.

I chose comedy to fill a gap in my heart.

Loneliness.

This is one bitch, I tell you.

And combine it with the desire to be loved, you have yourself an atomic bomb.

When my grandma was alive, I was fully focused on becoming a comedian.

But later, that fire diminished.

Because I found out my grandma had cancer.

Stage four.

She worked too hard to afford for me, neglecting her own health.

In a corner of my heart, I find myself at fault for her impending death.

And the thought of her dying washed over me a wave of sorrow.

If she died, I would be lonely. The only woman who ever loved me would be no more.

These thoughts chomped on my heart and all I could do was cry. My mind was nowhere near comedy at all. How could I think about comedy when the only person who ever loved me was going to die?

But one night, I found something. I found what comedy could do.

With this grief, one night, I was sitting on the side of a road alongside a beggar.

I was still in college at that time and the beggar was a graduate from the same college. So I wasn’t seeing that much of a hope from education.

We were sitting side by side, until he asked me:

"Who are you? What are you doing here? This is my area. And you are not allowed to beg in jeans."

I was sad so I had just replied to him, "My grandma has cancer. She doesn’t have that much time."

"Oh." The beggar went silent and then placed his hand on my shoulder. "I missed the part where that’s my problem."

I jerked his hand away.

"My grandmother is dying and you don’t see a problem? Do you have no humanity?"

"I have humanity. That’s why I don’t beg from children."

I turned my head at him. "Why didn’t you beg from me then? Do you think I am a child?"

"I also don’t beg from virgins."

I clenched my jaw. "You heartless monster, I am out here for some peace and you keep saying shit. My grandma has cancer! She is the only family I have. She is going to die. I will be all alone if she goes away. Can’t you see I am sad? Can’t you see I am on the verge of breaking down in tears? Have some shame and stay shut."

The beggar stared at me and his gaze softened.

He sighed. "She is in which stage?"

"Stage four."

"Damn. And here I thought cancer was hard to beat. She is already on stage four."

"What the fuck, man?"

I jolted up.

"I am just joking. Calm down."

"How can you joke? I am serious!"

"You are serious? I thought your grandma was serious."

I blinked. "We are talking about death here. Why are you making everything funny? This is cancer."

"Of course I know this is cancer. And I am working to eliminate all cancers from the world."

My brows shot up. "You are?"

"Yes. Then I’ll move onto Capricorns."

"Motherfuc— you know what? It’s my fault. A beggar like you would never understand what cancer is. I wasted my time on you."

At that time, a gust of wind howled on us and from the pocket of the long coat of the beggar, a white paper flew off.

I was standing beside him so it fell on my feet.

I picked it up and when I read it... my tongue dried up.

I shot my head at the beggar.

"This... this.."

The beggar smiled.

"Yes."

My mouth went agape. "You have cancer too?!"

"Yep."

I sat back down.

I saw the beggar with a new Outlook now.

I returned the medical report back to him and sat beside him once more, this time with less frustration and more pity.

He wasn’t even that old. He was a young middle aged man.

"Is this curable?" I asked.

"Nope. I have only a few days too."

"When did you get to know about this?"

"Ah, well, one day I felt nauseous so I went to a doctor. He did some tests and an hour later, he said, ’The good news is it’s all in your head.’ Then he added, ’The bad news is it’s brain cancer.’"

The beggar then laughed out loud and I could only look at him.

"H-how.. can.. how can you act like this? You have cancer. You are about to die. How can you joke and be so chill?"

"I am not chill at all, mate. Let me tell you something.."

He wrapped his hand around my neck, like a friend.

"All these jokes, comments, these are nothing but defense mechanisms. It’s my way to cope up with this shit called life. Comedy is powerful. Say everything in a joke and you will get rid of all your embarrassment, fear and if you get better at it, you might make a fortune out of it. I am terrified of dying but if I kick the bucket with a few laughs, I am sure I will be remembered, at least, by you."

The beggar patted my back and I could only stare at him.

He had the smile of the fittest man alive, he cracked jokes like snoop dogg of comedians and yet, he was near death’s door.

That night I learned one thing from him..

"Hey," He said. "Did you know that every zodiac sign has different hair?"

I frowned.

Then, he added:

"Well, besides cancer."

We looked at each other and for the first time since I met him, I laughed.

That night I learned one thing from him—Comedy Kills Sadness.

But this time, after seeing Erect’s and Sexis’ death.

I don’t think this sadness will be killed by comedy.

This time, I will forget the beggar for a second and remember only Malthus.

Because now...

I want revenge.

"Whoever eats another’s heart wins, was it?"

I let go of my swords and peered right in Malthus’ soul.

"Well, set a table for me."

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