Curly

I knew Curly because I remembered his driver's license with his photo suffering from pube-like growths hovering over his scalp, and because his friends were gracefully replenishingh him with shots and chasers, meaning it was an important night for Curly. Unfortuntely, Aldo had received complaints about Curly. He couldn't keep his hands to himself, and that was not good for business, particularly on a night that was bumpin' like this one was.


I made the call - toss Curly - but only for the first time in a long time did I want in on the experience.

The mystique about "bouncing" is that you kick ass every night, that whole Road House feel, which is what most other bouncers masturbate to once they leave work. Unlike those limp-dicks, I prefer to fall asleep with the tv on. But when you're frustrated, and a long day has been just that, a "long day," the idea is there, festering in your brain - - - I wish this muthafucka would pull something. That night, Curly pulled a knife on me and Aldo. Aldo pulled the knife out of his hands. I lifted Curly off of his feet. Frustration coupled with velocity bounced Curly off of the pavement in front of the club.

Philosophy and Physics are a dangerous combination.