It started, like all terrible ideas, with a text from Devin.
> [Devin]: bro u should totally tell ur life story at Toasted Moth this wknd. viral energy + sad guy energy = unstoppable
Danny stared at it, chewing on a cold meatball from a Tupperware he couldn't remember putting in the fridge.
> [Danny]: What's Toasted Moth?
> [Devin]: live storytelling night @ Salt Lick & Lantern. all vibes, no scripts. 5 min stories. prize is $100 & a vintage lava lamp.
> [Devin]: ur built for this.
Danny put the meatball down. "Am I?" he said aloud to no one.
The Salt Lick & Lantern was a converted firehouse turned kombucha bar turned aggressively indie performance space. Inside: reclaimed wood everything, Edison bulbs, and a chalkboard sign that read:
> "Tonight: THE TOASTED MOTH – Speak Your Truth, But Funny"
The audience was mostly hip twenty-somethings who looked like they knew what a microdose was. Danny sat in the back, sweaty and reconsidering every decision he'd made since 2017.
Mrs. Beverly had insisted on coming.
"You're gonna bomb," she'd said on the drive over. "But in a lovable way."
She now sat in the front row, recording with an iPad the size of a laptop screen.
Danny's name was called third.
He walked on stage, blinking under a string of mismatched fairy lights, gripping the mic like it might try to escape.
He cleared his throat.
"Hi. I'm Danny. I'm not a storyteller. I'm more of a... person who things happen to."
A chuckle from the crowd. Good start.
He took a breath.
"So this one time, I got fired for improper burrito handling."
Laughter. Loud. Real.
"And I'd like to say that was the low point—but no. That came later. When I fell off a scooter and got peed on by a chihuahua in front of a child who now probably thinks gravity is fatal."
More laughter.
Danny relaxed. The story poured out—about Mrs. Beverly's TikTok stardom, cat yoga, Chairman Meow's bone broth, and accidentally becoming a meme. He didn't try to be profound. Just honest.
By the end, people were howling. Even the guy in the corner with the ironic mustache wiped a tear.
Danny paused, looked out, and ended with:
"I still don't know what I'm doing. But apparently people like watching me do it badly. So... thanks, I guess?"
Applause. Not polite. Real. Electric.
He stepped offstage dazed. Someone handed him a free kombucha. Another person clapped him on the back.
"You killed, man."
He smiled, dazed. "Thanks. I almost passed out."
"I could tell."
The host announced the winner. It wasn't Danny. Some guy told a wild story about shrooming in a Whataburger bathroom with a minor Texas celebrity. Fair.
But the host stopped him near the exit.
"You should come back," she said. "That was hilarious. You ever think about doing a podcast? Or stand-up?"
Danny blinked. "I've barely done standing."
She laughed. Handed him a card.
> SANDY K – CREATIVE PRODUCER, LOCAL YOUTUBE – 'Offbeat Austin'
"Seriously. Hit me up."
Back outside, Danny and Mrs. Beverly walked to her car.
She elbowed him. "You were better than the guy with the Whataburger trauma."
"You just like me because I gave you slow-motion editing skills."
"That, and you didn't pass out."
He looked up at the stars. Austin's sky was never quite dark, but it still felt big.
He smiled.
"I think I might actually be good at this," he said.
Mrs. Beverly shrugged. "Don't let it go to your head. You're still bad at taxes."