(no subject)
I have bumped my head twice today and I think if I get a third one I am automatically considered TKO'd.
Customers at my work are starting to call me by name... I blame the name tag. There is a kid that comes in and rubs his face all over the glass case. Both sides of his face. The entire length of the glass case. Then there is a weird guy that comes in every time at closing time and buys .21 lbs. of broccoli and .15lbs. of some chicken-type thing. Every time that I have seen him. 10 p.m. weird. The guitar guy from The Hates comes in every so often. His little lady is nice.
I also decided that I am going to open a nightclub and call it The Gutting Club. This place will more than likely have flames somewhere outside the entrance. Possibly a tunnel of flame that you have to walk through to get inside. Kinda like those walk-through aquariums, but, instead of squiggly wiggly fish and floopa-doo sharks, you will just be surrounded by flames.
Inside there will be blood splatters all over the walls and drains on the floor with coagulated goo in them. On the walls will be glass cases with old surgery tools displayed in them. Those crrrazy type tools with little or no chance of actually saving a life. They would be all rusty and such with ample amounts of DNA collected on the blades. On the walls would be medical diagrams as well. They would have scrawled notes written by certified psychotics on how to best un-utilize someone's body parts.
Drinks will be cheap.
There will also be little privacy booths that will have little speakers hidden in them so that, while you are talking to your friends and what-not, you will hear little whisperings around your ears saying how much you want to put a pointy object in your friend's throat... just faint enough to be dismissed... just loud enough to make the various pointy things around you look appealing.
Yeah, this club is going to be the damn best.
I am now taking applications for D.J.s and wait staff.
Customers at my work are starting to call me by name... I blame the name tag. There is a kid that comes in and rubs his face all over the glass case. Both sides of his face. The entire length of the glass case. Then there is a weird guy that comes in every time at closing time and buys .21 lbs. of broccoli and .15lbs. of some chicken-type thing. Every time that I have seen him. 10 p.m. weird. The guitar guy from The Hates comes in every so often. His little lady is nice.
I also decided that I am going to open a nightclub and call it The Gutting Club. This place will more than likely have flames somewhere outside the entrance. Possibly a tunnel of flame that you have to walk through to get inside. Kinda like those walk-through aquariums, but, instead of squiggly wiggly fish and floopa-doo sharks, you will just be surrounded by flames.
Inside there will be blood splatters all over the walls and drains on the floor with coagulated goo in them. On the walls will be glass cases with old surgery tools displayed in them. Those crrrazy type tools with little or no chance of actually saving a life. They would be all rusty and such with ample amounts of DNA collected on the blades. On the walls would be medical diagrams as well. They would have scrawled notes written by certified psychotics on how to best un-utilize someone's body parts.
Drinks will be cheap.
There will also be little privacy booths that will have little speakers hidden in them so that, while you are talking to your friends and what-not, you will hear little whisperings around your ears saying how much you want to put a pointy object in your friend's throat... just faint enough to be dismissed... just loud enough to make the various pointy things around you look appealing.
Yeah, this club is going to be the damn best.
I am now taking applications for D.J.s and wait staff.