(Hello faithful readers and folks looking for naked penis pictures! This is kc with another short story, in three parts. The next two parts are on their way. Enjoy! And tell your friends!)
"You ever stab anybody?" ET asks me, craning his long neck, staring at me with his wide eyes.
"Um, no."
"You ever been stabbed?"
"I've accidentally cut myself a few times chopping up vegetables."
I'd recently taken a job as a bouncer in a club with a reputation for violence. I'd worked in other bars, but this place was nothing like the chill "shot and beer" places. I used to be able to count all my brawls in my past 24 years on both hands. Within a few short weeks, I'd already lost track of how many fights I'd been in.
ET took me under his wing. He'd known me the longest, since he trained me in Brazilian Jiu Jitsu. Apparently, there were things he couldn't teach in the dojo. Or he kept the best secrets to his door staff.
Mickey, the only bouncer smaller than me but infinitely tougher, listened to our conversation. I'm 5'10" and Mickey couldn't be more than 5'5", but his demeanor demanded respect. The way Mickey carried himself gave an aura that he knew what he did at all times. In fact, even though smaller, a rowdy patron generally backed down immediately if he showed up. Me? They stomped right towards me. Maybe it was his cauliflower ears. Maybe it was just my innate wussyness.
"Look, it might scare you at first. But just treat the knife like a banana," ET laughed.
"A, a banana?"
"Yeah. You won't be afraid of somebody's blade if it's a banana. But don't lose the fear. That knife could cut the shit out of you. And remember to control the banana. If you can't, this is what happens." ET pulled up his shirtsleeve revealing his forearm and what looked like a dot-and-line cave drawing on his black skin. "Some motherfucker pulled a fucking switchblade on me back in Philly. Also, remember, better to get stabbed on your arm than your hands. And it's a hell of a lot better to get stabbed in your arm than your face. Then you'd look like Injun Jim."
"That's why his face is fucked up?"
"Nah, he just had a fire on his face and put it out with an icepick."
"Oh, okay. That seems stupid though."
"What? Seriously? You're in grad school?" Mickey said. "That's the oldest joke in the book."
"Oh. I get it. He's ugly."
"Yo. KC. Don't call a man ugly. Unless you want to fight him. Do you want to fight Injun Jim?" Mickey scoffed.
"Um, no. I just…"
Mickey put his hand up. "Don't listen to this shit about a banana. Treat it like another guy's dick. You definitely don't want that thing touching you. Keep your distance. If he gets too close, distract him, then control that knife. Then take it."
"So you're saying you would touch another dude's dick?" ET laughed. "Anything else you want to tell us?"
"Fuck you. Go back to your spaceship you alien-looking buttplug."
Holy shit, I thought. I'd never talk to either of these psychopaths like this.
"Just remember, KC, it's just a banana. Don't let it scare you, but don't lose your fear."
"And don't fucking touch it."
"It's a fucking banana. Also, we need to give you a nickname. KC just isn't cutting it."
"How about Dick Banana?"