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[ilikenewsocks]

The other variety of customer approach I've learned to dread is the coming of the "late night drunken slut." Whatever their motivation for coming up to me, all late night drunken sluts seem to break the ice with me by saying the same thing: "Are you in a bad mood? Can't you smile?" Any breakdown in my bouncerly facade will open the floodgates here. If I smile, laugh, or respond with a straight answer, there's no telling what unpleasant surprises I'm in store for at this point in the evening. I learned this yet again on Saturday night.

"Hey, why do you look so angry? Can't you smile?"
"Yeah, I can smile. Here you go."

"See? It's not that hard," she said, awkwardly adjusting her bra and skirt. "Do you want to see my tattoo?"
"Sure, why not."

This one proceeded to turn around and drop her skirt and panties around her ankles, unveiling for me the pride of her existence: A tattoo of Elmer Fudd following rabbit tracks which led directly into her butthole.

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