Chestnut's Roasting

The audience waited in silent anticipation, knowing the lights would come up at any moment, revealing this year’s panel and the beloved host, Chestnut.

“Action in five, four, three…” The “two” and “one” were displayed on silent fingers as the director brought the stage to life. The APPLAUSE sign lit up, Chestnut strolled onto center-stage, between all of his guests, and the crowd rose to their feet and went absolutely nuts!

“CHEST-NUT, CHEST-NUT, CHEST-NUT!” they screamed, hopelessly enthralled by Chestnut and his immense celebrity status.

Chestnut allowed the applause to last a minute. Then, knowing he had work to do, he quieted the crowd in his own special way.

“Enough, enough already. What are ya, a bunch of Crackerjacks?”

The crowd hooted with laughter. The guests onstage with Chestnut sat silently in apprehension. Before turning his attention to them, however, Chestnut had a bit more for the crowd.

“You guys are crackin’ me up. Ya got me walkin’ on shells up ‘ere. Peanut shells!”

More hoots and guffaws came from the crowd. They never grew tired of Chestnut’s punny nut jokes.

“I was hanging out with my girlfriend the other day, things started getting a little crazy, and she said, ‘Show me your nuts.’ So, I put socks on my hands and ate soup with a fork!”

Eruption!

Chestnut waited for the audience to calm down just a bit, and then he said what they had all really been waiting for.

“Alright, let’s roast some nuts!”

Wild applause materialized. The others on stage all shrank a bit within themselves. Chestnut walked slowly betwixt them, debating where to start. Finally, he made up his mind, rounding on Peanut, and he let the real fun begin.

“It must be hard bein’ a peanut. People hear yer name, and both syllables make ‘em think of a dude’s genitals! At least when people hear my name, they think of boobies! I guess bein’ a peanut’s not all it’s cracked up to be! I can’t imagine the self-esteem issues you must have. Glad I don’t have to take my clothes off to get people to like me!”

The crowd was dying with laughter. Some of the other nuts on stage were giggling too at poor Peanut, who did indeed appear to have some self-esteem concerns at the moment. One of the gigglers was Walnut, and Chestnut caught his mirth and turned his attention that way.

“What’re you laughin’ at, Walnut? Ya got the same issue, only you like playin’ hard to get! You do realize everybody here hates you, right? I mean, you’re responsible for the worst Christmas musical ever! The Nutcracker?! Really?! If you were more skanky like Peanut, none of us would have to endure that torture every year. Thanks for all the nightmares, dude!”

Walnut shut up, sufficiently humbled.

“Who’s next, who’s next?” Chestnut continued. “How ‘bout a nut no one gives a crap about? Where you at Pecan?”

Pecan tried to hide inside his chair. It wasn't working.

“The only one who likes you is Key Lime. You know why? Cuz, thanks to you, Pecan, there is a flavor of pie even more disgusting than his!”

Hoots and bellows rang forth.

“Ya know why they call you Peekin? Cuz you're a prevert!”

Pecan shriveled up. Chestnut latched onto his next target.

“Speakin’ of preverts, what’s up Almond? Been milked lately, you sick bastard? Where does that almond milk even come from? No wait, don’t answer; I don’t need that visual haunting my dreams! Everyone knows I’m the only nut that should be milked, ya know, cuz I gots a chest!”

A woman in the front row passed out from hyperventilation, unable to catch her breath from all the laughter. Chestnut looked at her, then rounded back on Peanut.

“Is that lady dyin’ cuz a you, Peanut? Did you just anaphylaxis that broad?”

Two more people dropped from their seats, clutching their bellies in uncontrollable merriment.

“Get these folks some EpiPens, am I right?” Chestnut shouted at the stage crew.

“Who’s next, who’s next?” Chestnut turned toward Pistachio. “Are you even a nut? Seriously, what in hell are ya supposed to be? I can’t tell if you’re sick over there or just green with jealousy over my awesome taunts.”

“Um, I don’t think I belong here,” Pistachio replied. “Pretty sure I’m a seed.”

“Well, I dunno about that, but I do know you look like something I’d be likely to find in my poop, so you could be!”

“You’re not very nice,” Pistachio replied.

“No crap, dummy!” Chestnut shot back. “Why don’t you shut up and pi-stach my nuts in your mouth!”

Pistachio backed off, not willing to fight a losing battle.

“Who’s next, who’s next? Cashew?”

Cashew looked at Chestnut confidently, unafraid.

“Oh, we got a brave one, eh? Cashew, you’re the only nut so gross that people say “Ew” every time they mention you! You're so terrible, people describe you as ‘bein’ like Peanut only not as good!’ Your name is so dumb that when people say it, I say ‘gesundheit!’”

Cashew joined his stage mates in humility.

“Who’s next, who’s next? Coconut? Hey, Coconut, why don’t you taste like chocolate? That’s friggin’ disappointing! What’s it like having your greatest accomplishment bein’ that ya got to cover Moana’s mosquito bites?”

In case you were wondering, the crowd was still very entertained.

“You know how I know you taste like crap, Coconut? People on Survivor complain about you every episode! One guy even ate worms instead! Tom Hanks chose a volleyball over you as a best friend! You suck!”

Coconut began to sob white tears. Chestnut turned to his last victim, Brazil Nut.

“There’s only one thing to say about you, Brazil Nut, but you’re so filthy it’s unfit to say in front of this lovely audience. So, I’ll say it in a language only you can understand. Sua única qualidade redentora é que as mulheres te procuram quando seus pelos pubianos ficam muito compridos! Take that, ya sick cookie!”

Brazil Nut was shook, the crowd was oversatiated, and Chestnut was done for another year.

“Thanks, folks! And don’t forget to give the gift of deez nuts this year!”