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Its 9 p. m. as you walk up to Sexual Bicycle, the hottest bar in the city. It is a place to consider and be seen.
You saunter up to the front of the long line to get in, but youre not here for some consensual grind. No, you are here to work.
You are the bouncer, and it is your job to keep the people inside the bar safe and the people outside the bar orderly. You are the gatekeeper of a night of untold fun, and also the executioner of dreams.
You step up to the front door and cross your limbs so that the people dying to get drunk indoors know you mean business.
As bouncer, you are all-powerful. You can let in whomever you please. You can even try to bounce the perfect night, although legend has it that no one who has attempted to do so has survived.
You reach into your pocket to grab some sunglasses. What kind are they?
With your sunglasses on, you are in bouncer uniform and ready to go. Suddenly, the door to the club opens, and your sexually active older boss, Mr. Minchley, comes out.
All right, seem, lets make this a good night, okay? he says to you. No riffraff , no toughguys , no hardboys , no screwysams , no lurfdurns , no jammanyrits , no arvilnickannies , no parakeets , no trashmunchers , no gimblebranders , no messmakers , no Kevins, and good God , no shnoostlederulians. Capiche?
All right, Mr. Minchley tells. Now, Im trying to rebrand this club as Not The Place Where Three Preteens Died Last Week, and I need your help.
You nod.
Its up to you to make sure that we have the perfect ratio of men to women in this bar. As everyone knows, bars that can pack 80 percentage humen, 12 percentage women, and 8 percent cautious dogs are the most successful. Capiche?
Oh, and never, under any circumstances, come into the bar, Mr. Minchley adds as he turns to head back inside. I am definitely not working on cloning myself so I can increase my already substantial sexual output.
Mr. Minchley begins to walk back into the bar.
The three women walk in, and a man steps up next.
Hello, the man tells. Im just looking for a nice place to feed this croissant. Can I come into your bar?
No, the man says.
The preteens walk away, alive and in a huff.
The next two people approach.
Hello, we are hiking the Appalachian Trail, and it passes right through your bar. Well simply be hiking through.
The man floats ghoulishly into the bar.
Next! you say. A man steps in front of you.
Hey, Im Jesse, the man tells. You probably acknowledge me. Im kind of a local celebrity around these parts.
Really? Jesse asks. I have an up-and-coming YouTube channel, Im known for freestyle rapping in various venues around town, and sometimes I go on the local news to review movies in a segment called Jesses Picks.
Ah, damn, Jesse tells with a great world-weariness. I guess Im not the local celebrity I thought I was.
Yeah? Thanks. Thats really nice to hear. Do you want to come hang out at my house?
Cool! Jesse tells. Lets get in my vehicle!
You get in Jesses car, and he begins driving really fast.
Check out how fast I can drive! Well is currently under my house in no time! Jesse yells.
Welcome to my house, or as I call it, the Local Celebrity Hangout! tells Jesse. It took us all night of driving promptly, but we induced it. Im so excited for you to see all its cool parts.
This is my fish tank, Jesse explains. It was given to me by a local restaurateur when I feed at his eatery and virtually choked on a fish skeleton. My fish are both named Jesse, but not after me. Now, arrive check out my bedroom!
This is a poster from Along Came Polly . They shot a few scenes here in town, and I got to be a featured extra. They gave me this poster after I choked on a fish skeleton at the craft services table. Im kind of known for that around these components. I reviewed the movie on my weekly movie review demonstrate called Jesses Picks and dedicated it zero stars.
This is my sink. It was given to me by a local barber after I choked on a fish skeleton at his shop. Im so happy that you are in my home. Having a friend is so cool!
The preteens walk away, sadly and alive.
Mr. Minchley tears out of the bar.
Hey, you big complete idiot, what are you trying to do? Mr. Minchley screams at you. I can scarcely scratch two asses together in there. You start letting people in the bar or I will fire you. You better not be trying to bounce the perfect night!
I like those ricochet instincts, Mr. Minchley tells. Now let me in so I can impress women with my tight pants and blindingly white hair.
This is outrageous! Mr. Minchley roars. This bar has been in the Minchley family ever since we stole this real estate from Native Americans in late 2004. Let me in at once or youre fired.
Youre fired! Mr. Minchley screams at you. Ill simply “re going to have to” bounce instead. Now you cant come in!
Yes, you preserved your Bouncers Purity by not letting anyone in, but at what expense? Now you have no undertaking and cant get into Sexual Bicycle. What is the point of living?
Try again!
You take a deep breath and unhook the velvet rope to begin letting people into Sexual Bicycle. Youve been kind of blowing it as of late, so its time to have a good ricochet shift.
Hi, Im Lieutenant Fist-Corn, and I have a warrant for the arrest of Demi Moore Minchley, proprietor of this here bar.
But we promised Michael that we would do the entire road, the man tells. All of it. We have to keep that promise.
We do not want to upset Michael. He is more powerful than all of us combined. Even you are not safe from Michael, explains the woman.
Shoulders slumped, Jesse skulks away into the night, totally alone.
Mr. Minchley bursts out of the bar, fuming.
You insane idiot! Mr. Minchley screams at you. That was Jesse, a local celebrity round these components! He may have mentioned Sexual Bicycle on his up-and-coming YouTube channel had you let him in!
You are on thin ice, Mr. Minchley tells. You so much as inhale the wrong way and Ill have your sunglasses.
Then he turns and walks inside.
The next guy steps up.
Hey, I gotta get into because my friend Brian is already in there, he says.
Im not lying, the man tells. I have Brians diabetes drug. If he doesnt get onto, hell succumb. Look.
He shows you some insulin.
Here, look at my phone. This is a picture of Brian going into diabetic shock, holding todays newspaper right next to the Sexual Bicycle sign in your bar.
An ambulance pulls up and a squad of paramedics get out.
We have a call that a Brian is in diabetic shock in this bar, one of the paramedics tells. Let us in or hell succumb!
A hearse pulls up the block and a mortician gets out.
Hello, the mortician says to you. I just got word that a Brian just died of diabetic shock in this bar. I need to see the body.
The emergency crew, the mortician, and Brians friend rush into the bar. Minutes afterwards, Mr. Minchley comes out.
You imbecile! he hollers at you. You simply fell for the oldest trick in the book! Those fake EMTs and phony mortician are tearing my precious bar apart! Youre fired!
The two hikers amble into the bar, and a woman in a red dress steps up next.
Hello, I am a beautiful and unhinged girl with a crossbow, she tells. Can I come into your bar?
Mr. Minchley wheels around on one foot and heads back inside.
You hear a cigarette lighter click and look to your left. A shadowy figure is smoking.
Trying to ricochet a perfect night, eh? he tells. Youve got some ego on you.
Lenny Haslet, 1999, the figure tells. Tried to ricochet the perfect night and damn near did it before the line turned on him. No ones tried it since. Every day, I run put blooms on Lennys grave and make love to Lennys widow on that same grave.
So fly.
You shouldnt, they both answer in unison. Hiking is our thing.
Oh, Jesse tells. That doesnt hurt my feelings.
You can tell it hurts Jesses feelings.
Without turning back, you run outside and hotwire Jesses car, peeling out with a loud whine. You induce the 12 -hour trip back to the bar and arrive just as the sun is setting.
The line is still there right where you left it, and nobody seem to be notice your day-long absence.
The group scatters, and Mr. Minchley walks out of the bar and up to you.
Im really proud of the style you handled yourself in that situation, Mr. Minchley tells while readjusting his penis from one side of his pants to the other. You keep this up, and you simply may make it through the night. Now, Im going to go back inside and continue not cloning myself.
Mr. Minchley turns and heads back inside.
You will have to face the wrath of Michael. We all will, tells the man as they walk away. A beautiful girl in a red dress steps up next.
Hello, I am a beautiful and unhinged girl with a crossbow, she tells. Can I come into your bar?
You gotta get back to ricochetting like I gotta pump some seed into Haslets widow: urgently, the figure tells. Remember what I told you about ricochetting the perfect night.
The mysterious figure fades as if into thin air. You turn your attention back to the line to get in the bar.
Hi there, the blond girl tells sultrily. My scantily clad friends and I want to go into your bar to drink too much and get sweaty on the dance floor.
We want to coat your entire bar in a thick, viscous layer of sweat, tells the brunette.
And just when you think were done sweating, well start sweating some more, tells the woman with the darkest hair. And faster than before.
Sweat will be pouring out of our mouths too, adds the blond girl. It may look like saliva, but thats merely because youre used to seeing saliva come out of the mouth. Medically speaking, it will be sweat pouring from our mouths.
Okay. That is fantastic news, the man tells, and he strolls inside.
The next party steps up.
Hey, were a group of preteens, their leader tells. We heard this is a great place for us to die. Please let us in.
The unhinged girl strolls wordlessly into the bar.
The next guy steps up.
Hello, he tells. Fine evening were having. Cant wait to beverage at the bar with like-minded adults.
Sure thing, the man tells, and he hands you this.
The next two people step up.
Hi, were Hollywood couple John Krasinski and Emily Blunt. Wed love to come into your bar and be nice to our many fans.
An unattended briefcase overflowing with cash is next in line.
Hi, I am Liz, the business-casual genie. I want to get into this bar even worse that I will award you three wishings if you let me in, and the wishes dont even have to relate to being business-casual.
Hi, we are famed alt-rock outfit Foo Fighters, and we would love to play a free demonstrate for everyone in your bar, including such reaches as Everlong.
A masked man steps up, pulls out a handgun, and aims it right at your head.
I will SHOOT your FUCKING head off if you dont let us all in! he shouts. You havent let ANYONE in all night! We simply want to have fun. No jury will convict me for this.
You need to learn that actions have consequences! he hollers at you. Im going to give you one more chance, and then I am squeezing this trigger with hilarity!
The gunman pulls the trigger and a loud explosion is heard. It seems to echo around the entire world. When you open your eyes, you see that the sun has begun to rise and that the line outside the bar is gone. You check yourself for a wound but find none. Everything is the same, except you are wearing a brilliantly white suit.
The man from the darkness steps into the days new sunlight and puts a hand on your shoulder.
You did it, he tells. You bounced the perfect night.
The man giggles.
The future is a blank slate, and you are its scribe, he tells. No one has in the past bounced the perfect night before, so it is you alone who must write the next chapter.
He turns to leave, and as he does, he tells, If you ever require me again, simply hold this coin between your palms for five seconds and I will appear.
He flips you a coin, but you lose it in the sunlight and muff the catch. It rolls into a drain.
You look up and the man is gone.
Thems the breakings, kiddo, the man tells. Bouncing the perfect night has consequences. You will lead a long but solitary life. In fact, we might as well kiss a bit.
He leans in to kiss you on the lips.
You passionately kiss the man, and in doing so, a wave of calm cleans over you. No matter how alienated from society you are now that you have bounced the perfect night, you will always remember this kiss.
When you open your eyes, you are alone, and your billfold is gone. Time to start some new adventures!
Okay, fine, whatever, I dont need this anyway, tells the man. I get action all the time.
He walks away in a huff, and you are left alone to ponder your thoughts. You expend the rest of your life wondering if you should have just kissed that mysterious man.
