The Bouncer’s Way -The Seething Anger

Viewing 10 posts - 1 through 10 (of 10 total)
  • Author
  • #8930

    This tale was first posted upon the Wreck Shop board many moons ago, but never here because there was no appropriate venue for it.
    Now that we doth have one, I's would like to initiciate with this story.
    The Pimp NeonBlack

    * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

    The Bouncer’s Way:
    The Feel of Seething Anger
    A stream of consciousness

      You could feel it.
      Filling the air.
    Filtering between the people.
    Infecting them slowly.
    Just a feeling.
    A feeling not quite right. You can’t put your finger on it. But ya know it ain’t right.
    Anger drifted on the air all right. A thick hate. So thick ya could almost see it, but no. If ya spent too long in the business, ya could smell it on the air though. A foul metallic tang. Like blood and stale beer. Like you’d been sniffing too many metal shavin’s. The air had bite. It had teeth.
    Christ it was hot!
    Too bloody hot.
    These bloody nightclubs!
    These bloody people too!
    Fuck, I wanna go home.
    Home ain’t here though. Home’s far away. Too fucking far away. A tiny fucking island too far fucking north of here. Not this big fucking Island where I am now. Don’t get me wrong, mind. I like being here and I like the Australians. Bunch of fun lovin’ bastards they are, but tonight ain’t right and I feel alone.
    Not alone.
    It’s just me and the Anger tonight.
    Together alone. Amongst all these fucking people.
    You had to be careful on nights like these. Heat and anger don’t mix.  Specially with some many people abouts. It infects them -the Anger. It’s spreads between them on the air, turning every little quibble into a full blown brawl if you don’t keep your eye out.
    It was a fucking disease!
    And the only way to deal with a disease was to cut out the cause. Rip the fucker out and burn the cunt away before it has a chance to infect again.
    Mum always said I should’ve been a doctor. Healin’ people and all that. Now what the fuck would’ve I’ve been a doctor for? A boy from the Shades of London don’t have no right to be a fucking doctor. Thinkin’ that would’ve gotten be beat-up as a kid, for havin’ big dreams and all.  Sides, ain’t cut out for that work. It’s not the blood and guts, mind you. I quite like to viddy the vino, givin’  arf chance. Just don’t have the brains for it. So, whadda do when you have big hands and no brains? Well, where’s I comes from you either  come a Thug or a Bouncer. Ain’t much differing where I come from, but me ma brought me up all moral like and shied me away from that blackened life. But still, a Bouncer’s better gravefiller -like all me mates have become.
    Though now I have purpose. A reason tonight. Somethin’ I must do before I sleep.
    Find the vector -the source of the anger- and gets rid of it.
    As I said: on night’s like this, you can sniff it out.
    Now, a Bouncer may do peoples more bruisin’ than healin’, but we know people better than any doctor would. Better than any headshrinker would either. We know peoples as a matter of course. If ya don’t know peoples and how’s to reads  em in this game, well, ya better buy a shovel and grave right now and start digging.
    The best bet is the avoid the little eddie of Anger -they’re just a distraction from the main show, ya know- and head right for the bloody wave itself. Before it washes every cunt here away with it. But ya gotta be a sailor in these matter, ya read the tides, ya see? Gotta know which way the currents going.Which way the winds blowing. How bigs the waves are getting and how fucking soon the lightnings gonna hit.  Cuase if you’re just sitting with ya sails hanging all hanging loose when that fucking storm hit, well, you’re one drowned cunt. Express lane to Davy Jones’ and Naptune waving all the way. Dad was a sailor in his day -I owe him least that much.
    But the Vector? Who was it? By the feeling in the air, it weren’t gonna be some big job, all mouth and like. Nah. Gonna be some quite cunt. Sitting still in a fucking pool of panic. They probably don’t know they’re giving off the Vibe, ya savvy? They’re just gonna be the brooding bastard just sittin’ there whilst all around them goes to shit. Fists and fucking teeth fucking flying! And this cunt thinking he’s the fuckin’ victim. Fuck! This place’ll be a ragin’ soon if I don’ts find this cunt right fast.
    Push through the fuckin’ crowd, quick smart. Fucking bopper cunts everywhere. Not the Aussies I like. Not the piss drinkin’, cricket watching, laidback, make a joke soon as look at ya bastards. Nah. These were the fucking trendo fucking kiddies. Hate  em all. But I ain’t getting paid to like the cunts. Just tolerate them for a night at a time. What I do with myself the rest of the time is my fuckin’ business, savvy? You watch ya fuckin’ eyes, cunt! Back to ya drink, cunt! Don’t look at the lady like that or make it ya won’t be seein’ for a while, ya hear?. Fuckin’ right you do. Back to the fucking dance floor, boy! Mind ya manners and I’ll mind mine. Good. Got that all fucking sorted. None of the other boys here could. Not a one amongst them worth his fucking salt as a true Bouncer. None no the Way. More bollocks than brains they are. And them shrunken bollocks on account of all them  roids and rot. Fucking cowards. Even the girl at the door tougher than the lot of them. With training, she could be amongst the best, but that ain’t now. Now it’s back to the problem at hand.
    Where the fuck am I now? Ah, yes. Just off Dance Floor, lower bar. Fulla brash young cunts. Kings of the fucking World in their own fucking Nighttime.
    Ah, there’s the cunt!
    Long hair and jacket by the bar. Fuckin’ rough curls and fucking leather -who the fuck wears a leather jacket on a night like this? Too fucking hot for shit like that. But I was right about the bloke though. Little cunt this is. Thick set but little. Be a flea’s dick, but an angry bastard to be sure. The little ones are always angry bastards. But he’s the one, alright. All on his lonesome, as said. Ain’t talkin’. Just drinkin’. But lookin, ya know? Watchin’ the sport around. Lookin’ for the right time to vent. The right cunt to hit. The right glass to smash. The fucking fight to pick. Not on my fuckin’ watch, boy!
    Alright. Gotta be good now. Just sidle up really mousy, savvy? Real quiet like. Not here to make trouble but stop trouble. Right. All calm all quiet. No need to step in yet. Just a quiet word. A mind you, like.
    A young buck at the bar. Kinda lad that don’t know he’s P’s & Q’s, let alone minds them like. Fuck here’s we go. The bump. The stand the words. All the stand moves in this game. Oh! Here comes that storm -the first winds a-blowin’.
    Fuckin’ haymaker from the right. Your basic opening move in these situations. Easily sorted. Easily dealt with.
    Step in smooth and hook their elbow with your’s real quick like. Slide it in and do likewise with your other and grab that cunt by the back of his head. Give  em one of Nelson’s, ya know? Ain’t much they can do when ya gotta  em like this, savvy? Good. Barry’s got the young buck and showing him the door. Now, get this cunt outta here before we gets the real trouble going. Don’t want a right fucking Horror Show to start up now, do we? Boss’ll have my head, tough ol’ cunt.
    Right, lad, off with ya. Bit of a struggle. Arms like fuckin’ ropes these. Muscle like cord. Gotta be quick or it’ll look bad. Fuckin’ strong one, but I ain’t been bested yet.
    Fuckin’ what?! This is a new trick. Fuckin’ cunt’s only gone flipped me over his head. Gotta be fast  ere. Land on feet, like. Give that cunt  is own medicine. Flip  im likewise and give  im a fuckin’ smack in the chops. Oh, what’s this? Gettin’ a bit checky ain’t we, son? A bit fuckin’ lively? Wanna bit of tit for tat, eh? Bit of the ol’ back and forth? Well, bring it, my ol’ son, bring it. See who’s the right fuckin’ Charlie now, lad?
    Fuck me! That was a ringer! Tapped me a good one. The peeper’s a bit wrong, but I can still see ya good, lad. Gotta be quick now. Don’t want this spill over or nuttin’. Other boys all tied up with other problems right now and the girlie’s at the door, can’t call her in. Alright. Time to get this situation all Pacific like -as in calm as.
    Alright, me ol’ son, grab the collar and see this for lovely. How  bout a knee to the head. Nah. Gonna block it. Just as I thought ya would. Well, here’s it goes. All or nuttin’.
    Well fuck me!
    I took the swing for the ol’ jewels and sceptre but I ain’t grabbed the larder. I grabbed fucking air. A hand up of pants, pattin’ a mound.
    Fuck me! This ain’t know bloke!
    A smooth forehead to my chin cancels all doubt, as I get a snooterful of purfumed hair for my trouble.
    “Going to buy me dinner for that?” is all I hears here say, as he batters my conk again. Pity, it was a sweet voice. With a pretty face to match. Nice eyes, if not for the murder in  em. Good face. Cute nose. All that I likes in a woman. Pity she wants to spell my vino, like, and give me a kickin’ the likes of which I’ve probably never seen before. Yeah, this was it. Was I up for it? Did I care. I’m consummate in my job. Don’t like giving’ up. But then me legs go all Linford on me and buckle like a belt, but I still gots hold of  er and ain’t letting go.
    A quick spin and a quick shove and she goes flying over me as I fall. She hits as hard as I do, but she’s up faster.
    Man, she was angry before, now she’s pissed. Now she’s fuckin’ Raging! Everyone one  round us got the Fever too. Got the Bloodlust. This ain’t what I wanted. It’s what I tried to stop. Fuck me! Now everyoen near ragin’ and I still got this last to deal with. And she ain’t like the other girls in hear. She ain’t gonna go down for a pretty word or a charmin’ smile. Not like I’ve got either, ya know. Fuck me. Got a crowd  round us know. All eyes watching. The fuckin’ unce-unce-unce of the music throbbing in my head, in my swellin’ eye. Fuckin’ heads gone shaky too. Legs aren’t holdn’t up too well neither. But at least she ain’t on her game either. Anger’s the only thing holdin’  er up right now. But she’s got a lot of it.
    So, right. All or nothin’. Here we go. Just you and me, girly. No friends, no weapons. Like God wanted men to fight. Fist on fist. Flesh on flesh. Have at ye and all that.
    We move but, I swear, she must have knocked me nonce a harder then I though, ‘cause all this black swirls around me and it all goes dark like. The noise of the nightclub fades out, replaced by the soft swishing of water. Lapping. Lapping against a dock or somethin’. First, I thought I was dream, like. Back on with me dad on the wharf, fish’n’chips to share. But it all was a dream. No wharf. No dad. No fish’n’chips. Pity, ‘cause I could really go a bevy and bag of fried right now.
    A cold ache turning burning pain stabbed me back into the World. An icepack against me swollen eyes. Held my throbbing knuckles. No pain I hadn’t felt before -all part of the job- part the location was new.
    I was right. It was the wharf. A stumble away from the Club. But how did  ow get  ere? Couldn’t  ave been under me own power. I was barely sittin’ up, no way I could’a walked down  ere. So how?
    “Here ya go,” I heard someone say, as a cold bottle was pressed into empty hand. “Best I can find at this time. Can get back into that Club of your’s, so we’ll have to me do.”
    I turn and fuck me if it ain’t the same girly I’d just been brawling with. She’d stripped her leather jacket off. Held it one hand, an open beer in the other. She wore a red singlet. Arms ripped and lined with muscle -thick as Elephant’s leg. Bigger than mine at any rate. She had thick pecs too, pushing her tits up, making her singlet tight enough to see her cuts abs through. Her face was pretty too. Quiet soft in features now she was out of the nightclub and minus the few nicks I had given her around her mouth -the dry blood still clinging to her thick lips.
    I saw she was starin’ at me,  cause I was starin’ at her, so I stared at my hand with my good hand. A beer, the same as her’s lay there, it was open so I took a sip. The metallic tang of the beer washed with the metallic tang of my blood. Chirst! Aussies’ don’t know how to make a decent tasting beer. Give me an English Ale anyday, but this shite would have to do for now.
    “You had some good moves back there,” she said, between sips of beer. “Where’d ya learn to fight like that?”
    Was a wrestler back in England -the professional stuff. Show grounds and that. But that was some time ago. Mainly just know brawlin’ stuff. A few Bouncers’ tricks. Nuttin’ special.
    “Ya been a Bouncer long?” she asked.
    A nod.
    “How ya know I was wanting to make trouble?” she asked, as she sat down next to me. I could smell the sweet sweat on her skin as it plied with her perfumed hair, which she had knocked into my nose sometime before. “I saw you in the mirror behind the bar when you were coming towards me. Waiting for me to do something. You just knew? How?”
    A shrug. A good Bouncer just know. It’s the Bouncer’s Way. I explained all  bout the anger and all. Don’t know if she believed me or not. Didn’t matter either way. I was just happy to have a beer in my hand and to be out of the Club. How did I get here though?
    “Oh, I brought you,” she replied. “After the fight. Kinda need the space and wanted to apologise.”
    But who one the fight?
    “No one did,” she replied.
    Then what happened?
    “Well, we were facing off against each other remember? After you threw me to the ground the second time.”
    A nod and a sip of beer. The pain in my hand spiking as I lifted it.
    “Well,” she muttered slowly, like she was trying to remember the events clearly. “I remember you lunged for me and threw a punch and I tried to duck it. And then you kinda past out midway and fell. I thought you were out cold so I tried to take a swing, but you somehow grabbed me and locked me up. When all ya mates finally turned up, you refused to let me go. Said you’d get rid of me yourself. I thought you were going call the cops on me or worse, drag me out back and kick the shit out of me. Lord knows that’s what I would’ve done. But you just let me go, so I asked if you wanted a drink and some ice as a kind of apology.”
    I shrugged again and took another pull on the bottle. The bitter dregs filtering, slipping around me jagged tongue. The bottle empty, so I chucked it with a pleasing swoosh-plonk into the ocean before me. She ask me a few questions about why I let her go. Questions I couldn’t answer. Maybe I let her go because I respected her talent and her ability. Maybe I let her go because I felt so sorry for her for being so angry. Maybe I just wanted to fuck her -she was hot enough. Who the fuck knows these things? Not me. Not now.
    She talked on. Just random stuff. Wasn’t really paying attention. Caught most of it in snatch and grabs. Said she was so angry tonight because she had lost her job, because she drank too much and just didn’t give a fuck anymore.
    “But thanks anyway,” she said.
    For what?
    “Knocking some sense into me,” she replied, with a smile. The bloody corners of her lips hammpering the effort, twitching her mouth in and our of shape.
    I laughed to myself, wishing for another beer to be in my hand.
    What work did you used to do?
    Now she laughed and said: “I was a bouncer like you. Lost my job last week, so I gave into all the things I couldn’t do when I worked. Drank. Picked fights. Tried to fuck everything that moved. You ever feel like doing those things when you worked?”
    Yeah. All the time. Every night. Tonight. Who knows any more? All nights bleed into one. All joy goes from the work. If they was any joy to begin with. But you couldn’t do it. There are Rules, ya savvy? Those written. Those unwritten. But the Rules remain. It’s the Bouncer’s Way, again. Follow the Rules. Be strong, be moral, be right. Don’t give it to petty stuff or it could cost you more then your job. Don’t over step the line. For whatever reason. It ain’t worth it. Ya either a Bouncer or a Thug. Can’t be both. But you can just as easily be neither. Just another fuckin’ gravefiller. That’s all you’ll be.
    She seemed to nod in agreement. Maybe that was why I let her go, because she was a kindred spirit of some kind. Nah. I don’t believe in all that shite. Fucking fairy stuff. Maybe I let her go because I knew she was like me. The same ol’ anger. The same ol’ fear. The Bouncers’ Way. With that behind ya, ya can spot another Bouncer a mile off. Somethin’ in the stance. In the bearin’. In the gut. Ya can just feel it. All Zen-like and stuff. Maybe it was longing for someone like me to have  round. A true Bouncer. One of the ol’ school. Like the boss. Like me dad. Like the boys back home.
    Wanna job?
    “For real?” she eyed me for a moment but said: “Yeah. OK. Just one thing I gotta know first.”
    “What’s ya name? You still haven’t told me,” she said this as she pried my thick legs apart with knees. Straddling my leg with her’s.
    “A pretty name,” she muttered, brushing me hair back off my face. “For a pretty girl.”
    And with those words, she raised my tall head and kissed my own lips. Mixing the tang of our blood together.




    Amazon Lover

    Ahh, good to have this story again.  A very good one.  Any chance we'll see more of your old stories on this blog?


    Ahh, good to have this story again.  A very good one.  Any chance we'll see more of your old stories on this blog?

    Unofrtunately, dear Amazon Lover, that would sadly be impossible.
    All of my's original stories have either become lost or corrupted in version translation (from Apple to PC and so forth).
    The recent tales –A Most Helpful Student and Novus Machina– are already here, so it is unwarranted to post them twice.
    And you are still owed a tale, dear friend. It would have been finished an age if not other things stealing time away.
    It would be finished during my's next journey (to Iraq in the next few weeks) but the U.S. Authorities will not allow I the tranportation of my's laptop or other such devices into the country.
    Though, it shall be written, with other soon.
    The Pimp NeonBlack


    The dialectal elements heighten verisimilitude.


    I must say Black, good job.  :mrgreen:

    Amazon Lover

    Oh yeah… I forgot you owed me a story…!  No worries about keeping me waiting.  I'm an artist myself, and I know you can't rush these things.  We all look forward to your next tale of awesomeness!


    Oh yeah… I forgot you owed me a story…!  No worries about keeping me waiting.  I'm an artist myself, and I know you can't rush these things.  We all look forward to your next tale of awesomeness!

    Thank you, dear friend, on both accounts.
    The Pimp NeonBlack


    And is just as nice a read here.

    Love the twist ending of having the narrator be of simliar gender as the rowdy.

    Thank you for reposting this Noen.  😉


    And is just as nice a read here.

    Love the twist ending of having the narrator be of simliar gender as the rowdy.

    Thank you for reposting this Noen.  😉

    Ypu are most welcome, dear Cowprobe, but this tale was reposted a fair Age ago and was forgotten about.
    Though that matters not if you enjoyed it so.
    Thank you.

    The Pimp NeonBlack

Viewing 10 posts - 1 through 10 (of 10 total)
  • You must be logged in to reply to this topic.