Twelve weeks of writing.... Twelve weeks of pain.
Twelve weeks of tweaking one line again... and again...
I wrote. I rewrote. I surgically trimmed fat.
I carved setups so sharp they gave me papercuts back.
 
I edited in my sleep. I restructured in the shower.
I whispered punchlines to forks, as every moment was writing power.
 
Each day I rose like a caffeinated phoenix,
Keyboard smoking, mind on the brink —
In a room grinding out punchlines with surgical flair,
Until even my wife asked me, “Legends, Are you okay in there?”
 
I bled setups. I sweat callbacks.
I dreamed in Rule of Three.
I cut out every filler like it owed me money,
and operated every joke like a surgical spree.
 
Soapstone was the proving ground,
Where avatars cheered and silence could kill.
Where one missed beat can bomb —
But one perfect punchline can give you chills.
 
Everyone danced, Chewy smiled,
And the crowd went wild from my comic flair.
I stood in a spotlight that wasn’t real,
But somehow, every laugh was there.
 
Then came the final fight — Nine comics enter the light,
One set. No backup. Just me and the mic,
I built momentum like a train fueled by fear,
Then landed the closer so clean — even the mic had tears.
 
So here I stand, slightly richer, forever changed, Living Proof that hard work and laughter does pay...
 
So if you're out there and wanna take a shot
Bring jokes, not cliche, then show everyone what you got!
It just takes twelve weeks, and tweaking your jokes a thousand times
So grab a pen, hit the spotlight... now it's YOUR time to shine.