The exercise:
Write about: the bouncer.
I just got home from my shift about half an hour ago, so I'm feeling pretty wiped. It was a good group in the alley this evening - an owner of one of the local pubs was having a birthday party for his wife and they were very nice and surprisingly calm. Probably helped that it was the middle of the week and that the boss was there with most of his staff, but I was still very glad to have help called in to tend bar while I took care of the bowling side of things.
Plus, you know, keeping an eye on the gym until nine o'clock.
Anyway. Other than the late hour, it's been a good night. Max apparently was on his best behaviour for Kat, so I didn't feel guilty being at work well past when I usually finish.
Mine:
He is, one might say, built like a brick wall. Not much more mobile than one, I would expect. I will, however, allow someone else to test out that theory. Should he prove capable of reaching land speeds greater than that of an ambling cow, I would prefer not to have been the cause of it.
He seems nice enough. If one is able to surmount the intimidation of his appearance I am sure a friendly conversation would follow. Again, I will allow someone else to verify this claim.
The ladies certainly seem to enjoy his company. I wonder if it is genuine, however, or if they simply want to get inside the club a little faster. Especially on rainy or cold or windy evenings.
Worst of all, he must be haunted by the same doubts. Every single night.
2 comments:
That sounds like a full-on evening! Given that the party was for a pub owner you were probably best off not tending the bar :)
Heh, that's an intriguing description of your bouncer, and slightly melancholy too. I guess I'd never thought of it as a lonely job before!
The bouncer
Ouch, my... my... round thing, on top of my... broad things... hurts. Foot? No, foots go on the floor. Fleer. Foots go on the fleer. Head! That's it. What's it? What was I...?
Ouch. Head hurts. Hot muzzy sensation, I've felt it before... oh right, thinking. Thinking hurts. Why does thinking hurt?
Oh crap, a fist!
Huh, that was cool. Hand moved and caught fist, I don't know how I did that. Squeeze. Bend. Huh huh huh huh.
Ouch. Ow. Head hurts. Have to try stop thunking. Ah, stop thunking with head! Think with feets instead maybe? Foots. Foots on the fleer. Oh look, there's a head down there too. One little kick. Huh. Head go pop!
I hate this job. Sometimes. I thunk.
Greg - yeah, I was happy to be nowhere near the bar that night :P
Haha, that's a great opening line. Great follow ups as well, with an ending I wasn't expecting. It's all very well done, really, and I bet you had fun writing it :)
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