Yeah, I'm half-Chinese. What the fuck does that matter?
Fuck. I broke my own First Rule: I am only a Bouncer INSIDE the Strip Club. I deal with the Shit in MY Environment, and I get paid for it. Outside: walk on...
So I am walking back from the Seven-Eleven with my Red Bull and sunflower seeds when I see this White Van parked on a side street, and the driver is talking to a young girl. I realize I know that Van: I've bounced the Driver from the Club a couple of times. Acts like he's gonna be a Big Man, then is all "Okay Okay Okay" as I bum-rush him out the door. Once he's outside the door: NOT MY PROBLEM...
But I don't like how this looks -- I get that vibe that something Bad is going to go down. As a Bouncer, you develop antennae for that vibe, or you get blind-sided, quick...
I casually walk up beside them, and the girl starts to back away from him: I see her eyes, she's got The Fear. The Guy raises his hands -- an Okay Okay Okay gesture -- and says There's No Problem Here, he is just looking for his lost dog. Lost Dog? What do you think I am, a twelve-year-old girl...?
I suggest he should probably move on, and turn to ask the girl if she is alright. Fuck. I just broke my own Second Rule: Don't turn your back on ANYONE you don't trust. I see the girl's eyes widen, but it is too late: the fucker just stabbed me in the back, an in-and-up move. Filleted. Fuck Fuck Fuck....
I fall to the gutter as the Guy jumps into his Van: he doesn't speed off. No, he just eases away, like nothing happened. I try to believe that maybe I'm not hurt too bad, but I know better: I'm fucked....
I remember when Ronnie from the Club died -- DUI into a tree after a tequila binge; he was proud of that car. Midnight Blue, nice rims. After the Funeral the Club was closed to friends-only for the night, and everyone drank and cried and laughed, maybe some illicit drugs in the back. I hope they do the same for me: fuck -- I'd really like to be there, I bet it will be outrageous...
I'm finding myself wondering who is on stage right now? Who is still in the Normal World I am leaving? Tyla? April? I always like April. Nice girl, just hard times. I drove her home after her abortion. Maybe something could have happened between us, I don't know. That would be against Strip Club rules, but that shit don't seem to matter all that much now...
The poor girl is crying now and ghost-faced and saying "I'm sorry, Mister" and I can't help but think I am more worried about her than I am about dying. Seeing this kind of thing is only going to fuck her up as she gets older. Hell, she might get totally damaged and end up becoming a stripper: Ha Ha....
I try to tell her it will be alright, but I can't get the words to form. I am feeling very cold, when just minutes ago I was complaining with the Seven-Eleven guy about the summer heat. The sky above is so big, so beautifully big, I never noticed that enough...
I can't help but think of driving April home from her abortion. Was it just like this? Out of nowhere and -- Zip! -- the Universe is over? She was second-guessing, but I wanted to support her. I wanted to support her, even if I didn't really believe it was RIGHT. Maybe I could've directed her a different way, I don't know: it fucking haunts me: this is my end, now...
I feel my body shutting down, step by step, like banks of lights at the end of the business. The sun is shining like a diamond on the silver of the Red Bull can by my feet, pretty despite the pooling blood. Sunflower seeds are spilled from the bag onto the street: maybe birds will come and eat my sunflower seeds after I'm gone. I'd like that. Birds. Tired. I think I will follow my Third Rule: Don't Look Back, Always Look Forward...
Don't Look Back, Always Look Forward...
Don't Look Back, Always Look Forward...
Don't Look Back...
I am Laslo.
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