Yes, I’m a Bouncer. No, I’m Not Bouncy.

You’ve seen me. I’m the big, sturdy man in front of your favorite club.

I exist to keep said club safe from dangerous people, the seedy underworld. I maintain an excellent physique and my mind is laser focused on spotting any scum that dare step foot in my castle. You see, the dance floor is the tower keep. I am the moat. I am the alligator. Chomp, chomp, bro.

I can deadlift 450 pounds on a bad day and I can freeze a puppy’s blood with my cold, dead stare.

In fourth grade, I ate a pigeon on a dare. I’m tough like a barnacle superglued to a submarine. Put simply, I’ll squeeze you like a lemon.

I’m not a bouncer. I’m the bouncer.

… And that DOESN’T mean I’m bouncy.

Okay?

So, yeah, stop asking me if I’m a bouncy boy. It’s not funny.

Last week, I slammed a man so hard into a truck, three insurance companies had to sort out the damages.

So you know what, bro? Stop poking my tummy. I’m not a big bouncy boing-boing bubby. You really need to stop calling me that. That’s not even a tummy. It’s abs. Ever heard of them?

Also, I’m not even a bubby. And don’t you dare say anything about my bubby.

I killed a man with a spork at a PTA fundraiser. I didn’t even have a student at the school. These arm nuggets are extra tender from the oven I call a Bowflex Home Gymnasium.

So, yeah, if you call me “Scrubba Dub Tubbles Bouncy Boy Bubbles,” we’re gonna have some problems.

You really want to get on my bad side? I add Mentos to my Diet Coke just to sip. The doctor says I’m only allowed to kill six people a night otherwise my neck vein could explode.

So I’m going to give you one more minute to think about your next move. Because if you ask me again about whether me and the other bouncers play Oopsies after work and go boing against each other, I’m going to loose my fists of fury all over you chrome dome.

Nobody even plays Oopsies because that’s a game you made up. Why don’t you play it? I looked it up and it’s not even real. You think I’m going to fall for that? I wasn’t born yesterday. I was forged in a Himalayan volcano the size of two Mt. Everests. I was hardened into the sparkplug stud you see before you. I’m ancient. I’m immovable. I’m unstoppable.

I don’t bounce. 

Wait. I do bounce. That’s my job. Don’t get me distracted.

What I meant to say, weirdo, is I’m not bouncy!

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