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6:35 a.m. - 2004-04-20

TERROR CHILD MEETS HIS MATCH

Wowsa!

You guys kicked some unholy vampire ass with the bar promo suggestions yesterday!

Thanks to each and every one of you who gave me your two cents. There were some excellent ideas given that should get me through the first few months before I have to ask again.


Apparently the contract was signed yesterday and the job is now a reality.

Go me!

As it turns out, I'm over five different clubs.

Now the bad part...

They're on the two military bases we have here in town.

As anybody in the bar business will tell you ... you need two elements for a successful bar ... whiskey and women.

As anybody with half a brain will tell you ... women are scarce on a military base.

I went to talk to the manager of one of the clubs yesterday and she said that out of the last class of troops that came through the base, there were 450 people.

Fifty were women.

One woman for every eight men.

Ouch.

And her club is only open on Thursdays and Fridays.

She's decided to close down on Saturdays because last week she only made $85 in the bar.

Double ouch.

My job is to find someone who can entertain the crowd on those two nights.

As they put it, any dweeb can get up there and play music.

They want an entertainer with personality as well.

Triple ouch.

Y'see ... the guys that I am planning to hire for the jobs work with me at the telemarketing gig.

They both have great voices and are great guys.

But they've never deejayed in their lives.

The reasons I've decided to go with them are simple. They're hungry. They need the work and the money. And I'm giving them a chance to learn a new trade that's fun and (sometimes) exciting while working for a cool boss (me) in a small bar where there's not much pressure to be a good DJ, just a good entertainer.

I just hope they can project some personality and aren't too shy behind the microphone.

We'll see.


The little kid that lives next door to us is an asshole.

I guess I could call him a brat, but he's far beyond a brat.

He's just a mean little bastard.

I've kept my eye on this (now) five year-old ever since they moved in.

He's two years older than Andrew and about 100 times more rotten.

He's got this little John Deere truck that runs on a real battery so he's constantly driving it around the cul-de-sac which is fine.

But anytime any other kid goes outside, he tries to run them over.

He has terrorized the little four year-old girl across the street. If she dares to come outside while he's in his truck, he barrels toward her at full speed, making her scream and run.

He had never tried this with Andrew.

Until last night.

Andrew was scuttling across the cul-de-sac to go play with the afore-mentioned little girl in her yard.

Here comes Terror Child in his truck.

Andrew wasn't really paying him any attention as the kid came flying at my son.

I yelled the monster's name out and told him to stop.

He stopped and just stared at me as Andrew stopped and stared at him.

The kid didn't take his eyes off me as I walked out there to him.

"Terror Child," I said. "You should know better than to try and run the other kids down."

"It's fun," he said. "And I don't really hit them."

"Well one of these days your foot could slip and you could really hit them and they'd have to go to the hospital and maybe die and then you'd have to go to prison and big men named Butch would bust your butt cherry repeatedly with a broomstick," I reminded him.

(Excluding the whole "dying and prison" part)

Terror Child just stared at me like he thought I was some kind of collossal dumbass.

I'm going to have a problem with that kid.


Later, he grabbed his plastic sword and started waving it at Andrew.

Andrew doesn't watch any violent cartoons, while Terror Child is obsessed with the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

What Terror Child didn't know was that Andrew had his own sword.

A motion-detected sword with about 20 different sound effects.

Basically, the coolest sword on the face of the earth.

But I had hidden it in my closet and intended it to be one of Andrew's "potty" gifts, given to him the first time he took a crap on the potty.

Plans were changed.

I wanted Andrew to have the cool sword NOW.

So I went inside and retrieved the sword and handed it to Andrew who just beamed.

Meanwhile, Terror Child was all "I wanna play with ANDREW'S sword! I wanna play with ANDREW'S sword!"

Sorry Terror Child.

You shouldn't have been so goddamned mean to my son. Now Andrew has a much cooler sword than you and your puny little sword sucks and if Andrew wanted, he could decapitate your raggedy ass. But he will spare you this time, young obnoxious warrior.

...This time.

So Andrew, who's never held a sword in his life, danced up and down the driveway holding his sword completely wrong and bouncing it on the driveway to make it talk.

While Terror Child watched glumly.

Ha ha, Terror Child.

Eat shit and die, you bastard.

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